#smut o'clock

[violetsiren90]

When you're in deadlock traffic and you're trying to decide between reading smut and fluff and your gas gauge decides for you. 💁‍♀️🍆💦💜

[annievrse]

it's a bad idea, right?

eren x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: seeing your ex after a night out… it’s a bad idea, right? cw: 18+, smut (afab!reader, unprotected sex, creampie), exes to lovers, swearing. w/c: 4.5k a/n: first time writing a ~proper~ smut, kinda bad, kinda fucking terrified to post but, we move 💪 olivia's new song is perfect for an exes to lovers whore such as myself, so i had to use it in a fic. enjoy :)

Despite having the same friends, you hadn’t seen or heard from your ex for 2 months. The break-up was mutual, something about growing apart and wanting different things. Sure, you were upset, devastated even, but something inside you that knew you’d hold him again. And somehow, that one sliver of hope had wrapped around your heart and held it hostage. 

It’s how you found yourself at Moose with your two friends, Hitch and Annie, on the brink of passing out. The club’s multicoloured lights gave you a headache, and the generous amount of alcohol you had consumed an hour earlier started to wear off, but you continued to dance, laugh, and sing with the two girls. 

You held your phone in your hand as you threw your arms in the air. The room was lively and had been the best night you’d had at Moose in the past few months (or maybe it was because you knew who would call you tonight…). 

But when Hitch slapped you on the arm, and the phone in your hand started vibrating simultaneously, you had an inkling of who was calling.

“Don’t answer it,” Hitch yelled over the music, her eyes narrowed. 

You shrugged and, without looking, declined the call. “Who was it?”

“Don’t act dumb,” She shook her head, still jumping around. 

You rolled your lips between your teeth, and your heart started pounding faster. There was only one person who could elicit that tone from Hitch. 

You kept a playful smile on your face, and it remained when your phone rang again. But, this time, you faced the screen toward your body so the girls wouldn’t see. 

Eren’s name flashed on the screen, along with his contact photo: him with bedhead, shirtless, with the biggest smile on his face. Why his contact was still in your phone, with that specific photo, was beyond you, but all questions were out of your head when you turned around and left the dance floor without explanation. 

Swiping right to answer, you brought your phone to your ear. “What?” It probably wasn’t the most polite thing to say, but you were half-drunk, and your feet hurt. 

“Hi to you too, baby.” 

The tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. It was the first time you’d heard his voice in months. 

“Eren,” You said, squeezing through groups to get to the bar. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m great, actually, now that I’m talking to you.”  

You could hear the smirk in his voice over the music, and that’s when you could tell you were in trouble. “What’s up?” 

He hummed into the receiver, but you could barely catch it. “Wanna come over tonight?” 

“Why?” You asked, but it was playful. 

“I got a new place. Wanna give you a tour.” 

“Do you? Well, where was this call, I don’t know, a month ago?” 

Eren groaned into his phone. “Just come! Please, I miss you.” 

You paused as you were adjusting your spot on the bar stool. “You want me to come over?” 

“Do you want to come over?” 

“Yes,” Your voice was breathless as you answered, and Eren’s soft laughter in the background wasn’t helping. “As friends.” 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll text you the address, bestie,” He said. “Can’t wait to see you.” 

And then he hung up. You knew what he wanted because you wanted it too. 

Flashes of Eren played on a loop in your head: the last time you saw him, the first time, him smiling at you in that cocky way of his, his body on top of yours, his under yours… it was insanity.

“Why’d you leave?” Hitch shouted in your ear. You jumped, a guilty look on your face that you hoped she and Annie wouldn’t notice. 

“I feel sick. I think I might go home,” You cringed at how the words came out of your mouth. 

And when Annie side-eyed Hitch, you knew they knew you were lying. 

“I’ll just get an Uber,” You unlocked your phone and clicked on the app, receiving a text from Eren simultaneously. 

How convenient. 

Typing in 843 Campanula Street, CS Apartments, you knew you should stop, but you couldn’t. A car popped up: 5 minutes away. 

Getting up to leave, you knew they would follow you outside. So, you held Hitch’s hand and pulled her, who pulled Annie out of the crowd and out of the entrance. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and stepped out into the warm night air. 

“You should probably not see Eren tonight. You’re not in the right headspace,” Hitch said behind you. She knew you were lying about feeling sick, so you may as well play into it.

“Can’t two people reconnect?” You teased, glancing over your shoulder. 

“Bullshit,” Annie stated boredly. 

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren…

“Listen, I only see him as a friend,” You rolled your eyes. “We’re done, we’re through, we’re never ever getting back together, okay?” 

Hitch and Annie shared a look. You’d just told the biggest lie you’ve ever said. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You looked down the road for your Uber.

Then Hitch choked out a laugh and Annie sighed. You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“We just don’t want you to get hurt again,” Hitch said softly after she finished coughing. 

You shook your head. “I won’t. Besides, I’m going straight home. I’ll ask him what’s up in the morning.” 

Hitch nodded knowingly. “Yeah, okay. Have fun at home. Text us when you get there.” 

Your Uber pulled up next to the curb. You smiled at Hitch and wrapped your arms around her neck. “See you.”

Turning toward Annie, you only grinned, making her look more bored. “Don’t be an idiot.” 

You threw your hands up in defence. “I’m not. I’m going home.”

“Bye then,” Annie waved and turned to reenter the club. Hitch stayed a little longer to ensure the Uber left, waving enthusiastically after it. 

You knew you should stop, but you couldn’t. 

Fuck it, it’s fine. 

—

When the elevator dinged, you stepped out onto the second floor. It was a nice complex with white walls, gold door handles, and dark, clean carpet, an upgrade from his previous apartment complex just off-campus. 

The floor was quiet for a Saturday night, except for the bass from party music coming from the lower floor. The carpet was plush under your feet, and the hanging lights were gold too. Maybe you were more tipsy than you thought as you picked out details you would’ve before. 

You saw nobody as you passed the first apartments. But, as you turned the corner of the hallway, Eren was standing in the doorway of the last apartment with a cocky grin. 

“Hey,” he called. You looked around and hushed him. It was 1am, after all. “Pish, they’re probably all out anyway.”

You felt your face heat up when you got closer, feeling self-conscious in your party dress and shoeless feet. But you couldn’t stop looking at him. Somehow, in the last 2 months, Eren had gotten more attractive. His black t-shirt was taut against his chest and biceps. His hair was pulled back into its usual half-bun, but the pieces in the front made him look prettier. You swore you’d seen someone much hotter for your sanity, but nobody came to mind. God, he really encapsulated everything you’d ever want and need. 

“Seeing you tonight… It’s a bad idea, right?” You giggled, swinging your heels in your hand. 

“I’d say it’s the best idea ever, but depends on who you ask,” His eyes raked up your body as you walked toward him. “Besides, just friends, right?”

The dimple you’d missed appeared on his cheek as he smirked, and your confidence grew. 

“We’re the best of friends,” At the sound of your voice so low and sultry, Eren blinked. 

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and when you reached him, his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your cheek flush against his chest. The action didn’t surprise you because you would do the same. 

“Hi,” He whispered before pushing you away, his hands still on your shoulders.

You were going to speak, but your brain short-circuited. The rational side of your brain continuously asked you why, why, why, while the other side screamed at you to kiss him. It was a jumble of static and blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren… 

All you could think about was him. 

Fuck it, it’s fine!

“Wanna show me,” You paused, flickering your eyes to his. The usual bright green of his eyes turned darker, and his grip on your shoulders tightened—his hands were burning your skin. “The apartment?” 

This seemed to snap Eren out of his daze because he shook his head to rid his thoughts, then nodded, stepping back and widening the door to welcome you. 

“Uh, yeah, so…” Eren stumbled, closing the door behind him. “This is the apartment.” 

You walked inside, placing your purse on the granite kitchen counter and your heels on the floor. 

“It’s lovely,” You muttered. From the couch to the posters and photos on the walls, it was so Eren, but it was mature. And it was lovely, different, attractive, but your attention wasn’t on the decor. It was on the owner of said decor, but you weren’t going to make that obvious yet. 

Eren rubbed the back of his neck as he watched you look around the space: into the open-plan living room, down the small hallway to the bathroom and the spare bedroom, and then back into the kitchen and to the lone door on the other side of the living room. 

“Your bedroom?” You asked, your voice light. You weren’t giving anything away yet. It was risky being here in the first place. There were reasons why you broke up, but you didn’t care at that moment. This was more fun than ignoring each other. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eren teased, breaking out of his frozen state to meet you at the door. 

The air was charged like it used to be, but you dismissed it, making a beeline for the couch—a large L-shaped black leather lounge. As soon as you sat down, all the aching in your back dissipated as you sunk deeper into the throw cushions. You groaned in relaxation, propping your feet up.

“Why do you always get the comfiest couches?” You closed your eyes. “S’not fair.” 

Eren didn’t say anything as you shuffled around to get comfortable, pulling the hem of your dress down your legs. He looked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. 01:47.

“You tired, hm?” He asked, and you nodded, pretending to yawn. Eren narrowed his eyes when you did so. He’d seen that action before, the lesser version of your actual yawn—he’d seen the real one too many times to know when you were faking. 

“Guess I’ll take you home then.” 

Your eyes snapped open, and you shook your head. But when you saw Eren, a cocky smirk rested on his face, much like when you arrived. 

“I knew you were faking,” He laughed, stalking toward you. You pouted and looked up at him, your gaze catching his for a second before you looked away. 

“A more detailed tour, please,” You reached out your hand, and Eren pulled you up. 

The momentary touch of skin on skin was enough to fry your brain for a few minutes as you mechanically followed him into the bathroom, where you washed your face with his face wash, then into the spare bedroom to look at the view from the window, and finally, into Eren’s bedroom off the living room. 

Nothing was said as you entered, but the smell of his room was the same as it had always been—it was just in a different space without you to experience it. Cedar, geranium, bergamot, apple. It was the scent you bought him for his 19th birthday 4 years ago when you first started dating. You were stepping into a time machine, and all the emotions that came with it hit you in the face. 

You willed yourself not to cry as you turned your back to him to look over his desk. You ignored the few extra things he’d gathered without you in the two months you’d be apart, but it was all the same. It was Eren. 

“You like it?” He mumbled, the heat on your back making sense. You didn’t realise how close he was standing until he spoke, his hands on the desk beside you, caging you in. 

“It’s very you, Ren. The whole thing,” You spun around, your hips against his. “I really like it.” 

He smiled in relief and let his eyes wander your expression, recounting every mark, pore, scar on your face that he had memorised. It was all the same. You were still you. 

“I’m glad,” He breathed. “Thanks, bestie.” 

But you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were focused on his mouth. The realisation made Eren lick his lips again, but you noticed they twitched with anticipation this time. 

“This okay?” You whispered, slowly wounding your arms around his neck and pushing your hips harder against his. 

“You’re kidding, right?” He smirked, gaining his confidence back. His hands slid from the desk to your hips, and he leaned closer, breaths mixing, lips lingering. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

Eren’s lips brushed yours as he spoke. And you almost caved. Your fingers played with the loose hairs of his half-bun, and the action reminded you that you’d done this before, more than you could count—but never in the situation you were in right then. 

“Fuck it.” 

You don’t know who made the first move, but soon Eren was swiping everything off his desk and onto the floor so he could lift you onto his desk. You spread your legs apart and locked your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer. The kisses were sloppy and hasty, making up for lost time. You smiled when he began pushing the hem of your dress higher, his teeth tapping yours as he grinned too. 

Panting into each other’s mouths, you slid your hands down his chest and into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“I want these off,” You mumbled, getting your nails under his briefs and pulling them down with his pants.

“Well, I want this off,” Eren laughed, reaching behind you to fiddle with the zipper on the back. The sudden exposure of your back to the hot air of his bedroom sent goosebumps over your skin. 

The front of your dress began to loosen, and soon, Eren pulled away from you, his hands carefully dragging the straps of your dress down your arms. His sweats were halfway down his legs, and his briefs sat awkwardly over his ass, but he couldn’t care less, not when you looked the way you did. 

The more you reflect on that night, the more you disagree. The thought of being in a club not an hour ago left you feeling gross and probably smelling gross too. But at that moment, you didn’t care because you were with him, in his new room and apartment, and all you could think about was him.

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren… 

Eren laughed breathlessly at the sight of your tits, and when your dress was at your waist, he cupped them with his palms. “Fuck, I missed you.” 

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren… 

When Eren leaned down to press kisses to your neck, you reached your hands to play with his hair again. “I… missed you… too.”

“Tell me what you want,” He breathed heavily into the space under your ear when he heard you struggle around the words. 

You whined in response, tilting your head back.

He laughed lowly. “I know you know how to use your words, pretty girl.” 

The pet name caused a moan to escape your throat, and soon you were clenching around nothing. Your mind was far away, head in the clouds, from being with him like this again. “You…” 

“Where?” He pulled away from your neck, his lips plump. “Where do you want me?” 

“Eren…” You frowned, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him. Eren’s eyes retraced your expression, his hands brushing stray strands from your face. 

A cheeky grin spread across his cheeks. “You’re so damn cute.” 

“Everywhere,” You finalised, leaning up to capture his lips with yours. 

Eren got the message and wrapped his large hands under your thighs to pick you up. Your legs remained around him as he expertly approached the bed without looking. 

“Gotten a lot of practice at that?” You joked, breathless. 

But, Eren shook his head and kissed your cheek. “There’s only ever been you.” 

The thought brought heat to your ears, cheeks, and body, and soon, you were burning. “Me too.” 

“Fuck,” He half-laughed, half-groaned, laying you on the bed. Eren gave you a crazy grin before he opened his mouth, biting your shoulder. You tried to push him away, giggling, but you never forgot his strength. He went down your body, pulling your dress down your legs as he went, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your stomach. Gripping the sheets, you arched, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the feverish marks they leave. But before he reached your underwear, he sat back his heels and pulled his shirt over his head by the back collar—like he always did. 

There was nothing to be shy about, you’d done this a thousand times with him, but you placed a hand on your torso nonetheless. When Eren noticed this, he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Nuh, uh, no being shy around me,” he whispered and picked your hand up, holding it as he leaned over you. You quickly spread your legs to make room for him between them, and he wasted no time filling the space, tucking his other arm underneath your shoulders and lifting you up so your chests were flush. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and will ever see, understand? Us not being together doesn’t change that.” 

You sighed, tears springing in the corners of your eyes. Maybe it was the moment or the weeks of not speaking to the one man you trusted with your life, but you couldn’t help the words that tumbled out next. 

“I love you,” You mumbled, lifting your free hand up to fun through his hair, pulling the rest out of the bun. 

Eren smiled a tender smile you knew all too well, which he reserved for you during moments like this. “And I love you. I’m gonna show you how much, okay? Will you let me do that?” Eren’s voice was soft and warm, your skin ablaze, and your heart grew tenfold. 

You nodded, searching his eyes with your own. All you saw was tenderness, infatuation, and everything you had grown accustomed to in the last 4 years. You pressed your lips against him in a quick peck in response to his original question. 

Eren laid your body back onto the bed, trailing his hand down your side and into your underwear. You gasped at the coldness of his fingers as they dragged through your slit. 

“So wet, baby,” Two of his fingers started rubbing circles around your clit, making you arch into him. “Miss me?” 

“I thought we’d already established that, Jaeger… shit,” You squeezed your eyes shut when he pushed two fingers into you. 

“Don’t get sassy with me. You know how that goes,” Eren smirked, watching you fall apart from just his fingers. 

“Eren, don’t—oh fuck,” You moaned as soon as you felt his fingers go precisely where they needed to, his thumb on your clit. He knew you inside out, and you knew he was getting off on that thought. 

Pure white pleasure set fire to your insides as you climaxed, though the embarrassment of cumming so hard on just his fingers never came. Because it always ended like this. 

You looked down at your hips, where his hand was inside your underwear, and nearly blacked out from the sheer familiarity of your first time with him. “Take those off right now. We are not repeating our first time.” 

Eren barked a laugh, shaking his head as he pulled them down your legs. “I thought it’d be cute,” He mumbled. 

“Get up here,” You scolded, but the demand was lazy and playful, making Eren want you more (if possible).

He climbed up your body again, his pants and briefs on the floor, as his cock rested against your stomach when he kissed you. There was no time to be wasted, not when you’d waited months for this to feel him again. You always knew you would hold him again. 

Eren sat up, and you wrapped your hand around his cock, lazily pumping him a few times. He was hot and heavy in your fist, and the feeling was delicious. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” You giggled. 

His eyes found your core, where you were dripping onto his dark sheets and clenching nothing, and the sight made Eren moan and screw his eyes closed. “It’s just you… fuck Y/n.” 

And then you took your hand off him, and Eren’s jaw fell open, looking down at you.

“C’mon,” He whined, and you shook your head, laying back on his bed. 

“Fuck me, Eren.” 

At your crude words, Eren bit his bottom lip to stop his smile. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He hovered over you, his hair brushing your cheeks as he looked down to guide himself into you. He ran his cock through your folds a few times, causing you to jolt, before he sunk the tip into you. 

The stretch was like coming home after a long time away, burning with slight pain before the pleasure took over. You welcomed him back into you. Circling your arms around his neck, you buried your hands in his dark locks, pulling the way you knew he loved. 

“Jesus,” Eren cursed lowly when he bottomed out; the sensation of you around him was one he’d never forget. “You good?” 

“Yeah, baby,” You squeezed his sides with your knees, dragging your nails softly along his scalp. He didn’t move for a beat, eyes trained on your nose's scrunch and relieved smile. 

“Good girl,” He whispered, pecking your lips as he rocked in and out of you. Your hands pulled at his hair harder than before, and he groaned into your lips, your mouths touching but not kissing. “You’re so tight, fuck.”

And when he picked up his pace, you cried out into his mouth, the feeling and sound of his body on top of yours familiar and obscene. Above you, Eren made the pretty sounds you’d once begged to hear again. And soon, perhaps too soon, your stomach twisted into a coil again, his thrusts becoming too much when he continually hit that one spot like he always did. His voice became rough and desperate, panting your name before the volume increased. 

Words tumbled out of his mouth sloppily, curses and jumbled questions, and your name. His usual deep groans turned to whimpers, and the sound made you reach your high faster. 

“Close?’” Eren asked, running a hand down your body to find your clit, fingers slippery as they circled quick. 

“Mmhm, yeah,” You mumbled, nodding sporadically and arching your body to mould to his, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

And then, the coil in your stomach snapped, and the white-hot flash that burned you from inside set you ablaze. Your body opened up for him, and Eren chased to meet you at the top, his movements becoming sloppy as he fucked you through your high. You’re too sensitive, warm, and wet, but Eren came inside, filling you fully.

He groaned deep into your ear, shuddering, and at that moment, you vowed to never let him go again.

—

After your activities last night, Eren gave you his favourite t-shirt and wrapped you up nice and tight in his sheets. You kissed him repeatedly, making promises under the blanket of night, the moon your witness. Never again would you leave, not when you knew him like you did, when you’d spent four years of your life moulding to each other. You cried, Eren cried, you laughed, he held you, you flicked his forehead, he tickled you. It was like you’d never said the words that caused the downward spiral of your life in the first place. 

Reaching over to grab your phone off the bedside table, your notifications were filled with messages on messages from your group chat with Hitch and Annie, and… Reiner?

07:24 Hitch: Where are you?????? Answer pls!!!!

07:59 Annie: Y/n istg 

08:50 You: Sorry I was asleep

08:50 Hitch: Thank god 

08:51 Hitch: We’re gonna facetime rn 

You groaned and turned your head toward a sleeping Eren. His hair was all over the place, his face innocent and soft, his skin golden and back bare. He was all you could ever want and more.

You slowly lifted the charcoal grey duvet to swing your legs out and sat up. Your entire body ached, and your legs shook as you stood up. Stifling a laugh of embarrassment, you tiptoed out of his room, careful of the one creaking floorboard he’d warned you about the night before.

It wasn’t until you got to the living room that your phone vibrated with an incoming group Facetime. 

“Hi,” You said tiredly, trying to block as much background as possible; they knew your apartment better than you did. 

“Good morning,” Hitch glared through the screen. Annie said nothing. 

“What happened to your neck? Hm?” The brunette asked, her voice accusatory. 

You moved toward the couch, sitting on the lush black leather, tucking a pillow behind your back. “Oh, I tripped and fell—”

“Yeah, into Eren’s bed,” Annie cut you off. 

Hitch muffled a laugh, and you stared at her in disbelief. 

Your mouth opened and closed with no sound. “No?” You visibly cringed when the usual statement came out as a question. 

“Y/n!” Hitch yelled, a smile taking over her false scold. Annie rolled her eyes with a hint of a smirk. Then, all that could be heard was laughter. 

“Well, at least you’re okay. I mean, it’s just Eren,” Hitch giggled. You smiled at her, grateful for your friends. 

“Oh! Reiner texted me too,” You suddenly remembered seeing his name on your lock screen. 

“Reiner?” The confusion in Hitch’s voice matched the thoughts in your mind. Why would Reiner text you privately?

You clicked around your phone until you opened Reiner’s message. 

02:49 Reiner: i’m happy for u and all, but pls stfu

But you couldn't find it in yourself to care, even after the realisation that all your friends knew you'd slept together washed over you. Because all you cared about was him.

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren…

a/n: prologue

[hoshione]

the tears won't stop.

dude is ADORABLE.

[kth1fics]

00:00 (Zero O’Clock) (M) | KTH

00:00 (Zero O’Clock)

⟶ Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Established Relationship, PWP, Slice of Life, Domestic Fluff, Smut, 18+ ⟶ WC: 6.8k+ ⟶ Warnings: disgustingly fluffy fluff (for me lol), super sweet interactions and love, unprotected sex, neck kisses, brief fingering, language, etc ⟶ Beta: @daechwitatamic​ jumping jo jo bean ⟶ Summary: A night full of movies and intimate conversations with the love of your life and his fluffy dog whom you love more than anything leads into something more. ⟶ Author's Note: Yeah. My sweet, sweet, heart throbbing love for a man and his adorable Pomeranian. What else do you expect of me? I didn’t add too much detail toward Yeontan here, but let me have you know – I adore that dog to no end. ⟶ Song Recommendation: Closer (ft Paul Blanco, Mahalia) by RM

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi 

“I love you,” he whispers in a soft baritone. Darkness surrounds you besides the lighting from the flat screen television across the room. It runs credits after a movie, names and titles all gradually sliding up the screen to credit all the workers who assisted in the development of the film. “I really do love you,” he adds. 

It’s midnight on the dot; motionless comfort sits in the middle of the living room as both you and Taehyung lay tangled together on the couch. Never having a moment where you are not touching. Holding onto another like it’s your duty. As if it’s your job to make sure the other is there physically. Not caught up in a fever dream of happiness. Only the softest and kindest of touches are exchanged through the series of movies the two of you enjoyed throughout the night. Caressing one another's hands and limbs, gripping just enough to not let one slip from their grasps. If one of you attempts to pull away, the other is quick to pull them back.

You’re disgustingly in love and so is he. It’s just how it works. There’s nothing between the two of you that suits the stereotypical definition of the word ‘perfect’. Contrasting differences and different likes and dislikes can do that. Opposing personalities when it comes to opinions and personal preferences. Raised in separate environments. But without a doubt, pushing aside those things that don’t match one another and accepting one another’s flaws — now that is what makes your relationship with Taehyung perfect. Where it is so effortlessly easy to work along with another, to communicate and keep moving forward. How the two of you continue and fully engage yourselves in another to keep learning and continue to grow. With full blown adoration and a magnetic bond that is fueled with such loving intensity; you and Taehyung are completely perfect for each other.

“I love you more,” you begin to smile slowly. You hate how easy it gets to make you feel giddy and happy. How a simple confession just means so much for you to hear. Because you know Taehyung means exactly what he says and he will always say it to remind you. 

He has no hesitation with letting you know that you truly are the love of his life, and just as he pulls you in closer as if the two of you had any more space left between you, Taehyung grins wholeheartedly. His face turns toward you as he leans in, placing his cheek against your shoulder while his arm reaches around your front to secure your frame against his. 

The warmth of the blanket covering the two of you on the couch already holds heat to keep your bodies warm. But you feel even more comfort with the touch of Taehyung’s skin against yours as he casually tucks his hand under a portion of your hoodie (actually it’s his and you stole it for the night). He, too, wears one of his own; it helps keep the both of you sheltered from the chill of your house.

Your tired eyes glance over to a window that reaches views of the outside. Streetlights glow dim on the road as thick flurries fall down and stick to the ground. It’s beautiful and serene as the two of you watch in silence, favoring how a scenic sight like this is your favorite thing to witness — even in the comfort of your own home.

“I could just stay here all night,” he says in the same low tone. “I don’t want to let go.”

At that, you slide your own hands across his arm. Holding him to you and squeezing slightly to emphasize that you enjoy this as well.

“We don’t have to move,” you promise. “We can stay like this until we fall asleep.”

Taehyung turns his head even more to nuzzle his face into your neck. Pressing himself against your skin to enjoy the closeness of your bodies and the faint scent of your body wash that hardly lingers on your skin. He’s an absolute cuddle bug, giving you all of his vulnerability because he knows you would never abuse it.

The breath of his nose fans out and tickles your skin, raising goosebumps when he hums in content. His lips press delicately against you with no rush, just lazy and exactly how he knows you like it.

“I’m happy with that idea,” he lets out a short giggle.

You turn slightly and attempt to face Taehyung, opening up your body to direct all of your attention on him. He notices your movement and pulls away enough to let you shift. Immediately, you connect the palm of your hand to his cheek. Rubbing your thumb softly on his tanned skin that has the smallest amounts of stubble growing in from his chin and upper lip. Taehyung releases another satisfied hum as he closes his eyes, easing into your touch that does wonders to his heart. Your fingers skim the roots of his wavy black hair, combing toward the back of his head to collect a fistful. You don’t tug on them tightly, but you continue to groom his strands like a brush.

The back of the couch meets the side of your face as you lean into it, smiling warmly at the man who’s intertwined with you. Your legs lift to lay across his lap where one of his knees is bent to accommodate his position. The hand that he keeps around your body now tugs you, sliding you as close as possible so he can lean in.

“Kiss me once,” he requests. “Then kiss me twice,” he adds. “Then kiss me once more,” he quotes the lines from a favorite song. 

Taehyung leans in to connect your lips with his. Molding together as you’ve done over a hundred times before. They’re plush and plump, moistened from his constant tongue licking and teeth biting. But also they feel so soft and smooth. So light, so sweet. Kissing anyone you’re a little bit infatuated with is always wonderful. But kissing Taehyung is nothing short of extraordinary. He’s someone who wants you as much as you want him. Where even after years of intimate touches and tender loving it still feels sort of dreamy. 

And when your tongues meet on kiss number two, you taste him as if it is the first time. You feel yourself falling apart. Pieces of you shatter and fall around him in the safety of knowing he will be there to pick them back up. To hold and cherish as he takes you in each and every time. You’re so utterly ready to melt away in his embrace, you want to give your all to him. Where you lose yourself on the couch, the floor, in his hair and his heart. To feel him inside and out of you; all around you. 

Lock your souls together as one whole. An unbreakable entity.

Once kiss number three begins to happen, you murmur your confession of love again as your bottom lip quivers with emotion. You remind him that he is loved and how lucky you are to have found each other for a moment of the most unimaginable happiness you can know.

You would give up anything to feel like this for eternity.

“My love,” he smiles when speaking against your lips. “You mean the entire world to me.”

His heart swells with adoration and glee. There’s nothing more he wants than what’s happening right now. Loving his partner, his love. To make you feel protected, appreciated, and wanted — no, needed.

Taehyung’s hand runs to the back of your neck to draw you into him. Intoxicated on you. He places his lips on yours once again and this time he leans forward, hinting for you to fall back onto the cushions as he’s ready to follow you.

A soft growl resonates, not from you nor from Taehyung. As your head falls softly back onto the cushion, you bump into the fluffy butt of another love of your life — your shared child; the tan and black colored Pomerainian, Yeontan. He originally is Taehyung’s baby, he got him when he was a wee puppy. But a few years down the road you were introduced into the mix, and Yeontan — who was definitely skeptical of you at first — grew to love you more and more. Just like his father.

Now you call him yours. And some days, Yeontan likes you better. Usually on the days you sneak him more treats than he’s allotted. But we don’t dare tell Taehyung this.

“Oh!” You smile and twist your head toward the dog who now begins sniffing your face. “Sorry, baby!”

Taehyung’s large hand comes to pat the top of Yeontan’s head. He pets him with kindness. “I forget he was over here,” he says. “Forgive me,” he begs toward the dog who’s began licking his hand. “Tannie, I need you to move.” Taehyung softly and slowly slides his palm under the side of Yeontan. With full on reluctance and sass, the mere 8 pound dog huffs as he stands on all fours.

“Aw,” you sigh as you feel bad for the pooch who now is being evicted from the couch.

You hear the tap of Yeontan’s nails clink lightly against the tile flooring as he jumps down from the cushion. He quickly looks around in the mild darkness of the house to find his best exit strategy.

Preferably away from his father and adopted mother who are seconds away from fornicating on the spot he was just resting on. (Although he’s just a dog who probably does not know the full extent of what the two of you are about to do). As Yeontan descends down the pitch darkness of the hallway toward the bedroom, you frown for him. Feeling bad for the upset dog.

“It’s not like you to kick Tannie out of the room,” you comment with a pout.

“He’ll be fine,” Taehyung murmurs as he continues to lay on top of you. “Besides, I don’t want him seeing what we’re doing.”

“Protecting your son’s eyes from the vulnerability of two lovers?”

“Exactly.”

The playful nature of his tone is hidden by the breathy deep whisper and soft plush lips heating up the shell of your ear. It tickles and sparks bursts of small firebolts through your system.

“We wouldn’t want to set a bad example,” you chide back, smirking as you turn your head and allow Taehyung’s lips to skim against your cheek. You exhale a breath you didn’t notice you held, trying to find the will to close the small distance between your lips, but the tension growing between you and Taehyung fuels you. “Like how his father does nothing but tease.”

“I always fulfill,” Taehyung draws back slightly, a pout dressing his features. Like an arrow subtly striking an apple’s skin, you pricked a tiny hole into Taehyung’s ego. “You know I do,” he adds.

Your palm reaches up and cups his chin as you tap your fingers softly against his cheek, smiling to yourself. It takes everything in your body to resist kissing away the jutted out bottom lip on Taehyung’s frowning face.

“I know you do,” you reassure softly. It warms his heart hearing those sweet, kind words of affirmation. You swear you can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, threatening to break his saddened facade and into a pile of putty.

“Then show me you know,” he bids through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping ever-so-slightly across his lips.

Your eyelids flutter with a thrilling chill running through your body, excitement blasts through your core and heat rises in your cheeks.The soft linen blanket that covers the two of you hordes all your body heat, the rising temperature increasing over time.

Taehyung uses this opportunity to cradle the back of your head, positioning it gently where he wants you while his other hand slides up the length of your leg and coaxes you to hook around his hip. He closes the gap with a teasing smile, hungrily molding your mouths together as though he’s desperate to taste every drop of you. Taehyung inhales you, greedily, and immediately comes to suck at your bottom lip – hooking it between his teeth before letting it pop back.

A small satisfied sigh rests in your throat, your mouth chases his as he pulls away just enough to be out of reach. His fingers comb through the roots of your hair, nails raking softly across your scalp.

“Come back,” you whisper a plea to him. “Tae –”

“– I’m just admiring you.”

“But I want to keep kissing you,” you sulk. “You’re doing exactly what I just said you do.”

He giggles, a deep baritone hypnotic melody that rumbles inside his chest. “I know.”

Taehyung doesn’t want to drag out the night further, it is quite late. But he can’t help himself from stopping every now and then and basking in the amazement of you. Looking at you, taking you in. It’s his favorite pastime if you ask. But he’s genuine and so devoted toward you, that doing nothing but seeing you is enough to fuel the electric butterflies in his stomach and fill his heart to the rim. He truly adores you.

Those gentle chuckles diminish and quickly morph into muffled, shy moans as Taehyung reconnects your awaiting kiss. You waste no second by diving your tongue into his mouth. It takes even less for him to counter your intrusion with his own, losing yourselves in a rhythmic dance.

You feel the way his warm large palm runs up and down the outer meat of your thigh that’s around his frame. Your hips involuntarily roll toward him as the need of Taehyung grows stronger between your legs. He’s lucky you’re wearing shorts right now, he would be disappointed if he couldn’t feel the heat of your skin against him.

“Can we lose these?” He gestures as his fingers run up toward your waistband. You feel the coolness of his fingers touch your delicate skin, it’s not too cold to make you wince but you note that Taehyung needs to be warmed up too. 

You nod into the kiss, body moving along with Taehyung’s as his fingers hook around the band of your shorts and whatever underwear you have on and slowly, achingly, slide them down and off your legs. He’s sure to keep himself hovered enough with the blanket around his shoulders, caging you in from the chill of the outside air. His eyes roam your exposed lower half, nothing he hasn’t seen before. But he always knows how to appreciate a beautiful sight, drinking in the picture of the sheen of arousal coating your pussy.

“Your hoodie,” you comment as you lean back enough and shrug your arms through the holes of your own lengthy sleeves. With haste, you work the material over your head as Taehyung does the same but quicker. Revealing his bare torso – a soft stomach and smooth chest – and fanned out black hair to you.

Still hovering and even planting a single foot down to the ground, Taehyung grips the hem of the thin tee shirt still covering your body. “This too?” He asks curiously, fingers itching to pull the soft material up your front.

“It’s still cold,” you deny with a sorry look.

Though Taehyung doesn’t press further. He only wants to keep you comfortable and he accepts your tender denial.

He nods as the hoods of his eyelids shade with subtle gleam and haze. You blink, a deep exhale escapes your chest as you witness the tightening of Taehyung’s nipples as they harden. Every impulse in you screams to act on instinct and touch them, rub against them to tame their hardening. 

And so you do, softly, with the pads of your thumbs. Giggling to yourself when he winces only slightly at the contact and returns a toothy smile.

Taehyung takes revenge by sliding his hands under your thin shirt, fingers pinching the tender flesh of your waist to tickle you. He lowers himself down fast, refusing to allow you to bolt up from your position and scurry away from his grasp.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he promises with a hum. His mouth skims over your temple, pressing fluttering kisses down the side of your face as you turn away from him.

You feel the warmth of Taehyung’s skin against yours as his arms scoop around you. It’s ultimately comfortable being guarded in his embrace, feeling held and protected all in one. The press of Taehyung’s lower half sits right at the apex of your thighs as he rests against you. His erection is strongly evident and hidden just under the menace of his sweatpants.

He uses this opportunity to press into you to give you the reminder of what you’re currently missing out on, yet you will fully receive. Another teasing antic of his, and you love it entirely. It causes enough friction to rub your clit deliciously. It also refreshes your memory on how hard –  how damn thick Taehyung is down there.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer to you for a deeper kiss. A meaningful lust. One that feels that it could be your last, so you make it everlasting – as much as possible. Where your breaths are caught, trapped inside your lungs with nowhere to escape. How time can pause, even in such a heated intimate position, and feel completely exposed in an emotional kind of way. Your tongue pushes past his lips and teeth and he responds with an enthusiastic rut of his hips. Gaining himself a subtle moan from you that only his ears can pick up.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” you pant. Your legs spread wider on their own accord. You abandon all thoughts of trying to stretch out your time of canoodling and hint to Taehyung how willing and ready you are. Lightly massage the back of his neck as you kiss him again, you smile sweetly into the lips of the man you’ve given everything to. “Don’t stop,” you whisper.

A gasp leaves your mouth as Taehyung slides his fingers between the two of you, running his fingers directly along your folds. Your slick, the natural clear and sticky arousal, now coats his digits the more he fondles your lower lips. Giving him such an easy gliding area and access to your cunt. With all his love, he begins rubbing small, quick and diligent circles against your slippery clit – drawing yet another sighing moan from your mouth.

“Does this feel good or should I slow down?” he questions with mirth and a satisfied hum as he dips his head to the junction of your shoulder and neck. Slotting his face right against your soft flesh and teeth nipping at the first contact against a sweet spot he knows all too well. You hiss, shuttering at the love bite and eyes fluttering shut, tight, as you savor the miniature pinch of pain. “Y/n?”

“Why…” you exhale a mewl, fighting and failing from melting into the couch below you. “...do you even ask?”

A deep, throaty giggle vibrates within Taehyung’s chest. He presses down with the flat of his tongue, exploring that exposed column of your neck to pull more sounds of pleasure from your mouth. He matches the tempo with the rolls of his fingers, nudging your engorged clit around like a dialog stick on a controller.

Your cunt throbs excitedly, anticipating the moments Taehyung plunges his fingers into you. Another delightful moan escapes your throat with the build up of your shaky breaths and it only confirms to his ears that you are in fact enjoying every little bit of this attention.

Taehyung continues to massage his wet tongue into a sensitive spot of your neck before grabbing it between his teeth. He sucks on it with vigor, diligent on making sure he leaves an impression on your body as his fingers slither their way toward your entrance.

“Ah, Taehyung,” you moan with a croaky voice. Your chest rises and falls as heat smothers you under this blanket and the man slotted between your thighs. Carefully, you slide a portion of the material down Taehyung’s back, enough to let in a small spill of cool air as your nails lightly rake down his spine.

He moans at how sparks of fire run in the wake of your nails, a warm sensation drawn to the risen skin. His name rolling off your tongue like second nature also winds him up, thinking that your clit has been catered to far enough and now it’s time to deliver his next step.

His decision on sinking two fingers rather than one is honestly due to the amount of arousal already coating his fingers. You’ve given him plenty to work with, telling him without actually telling him how your body is unbelievably ready for him. Taehyung’s thumb rubs gently over your clit as both his index and middle fingers plunge deeper into your dripping cunt, curling up his fingers to force your walls to clutch and release on instinct.

Your gasp of relief tickles his fancy. You dig more prominently into his back with your fingernails now, blessing his skin with small crescent indents as your other hand knots itself in his hair. The sounds you begin to make, those sharp little groans you cannot hide from him, makes his cock twitch eagerly.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” he questions in the middle of his assault. His lips morph over the lobe of your ear as you hear his soft exhales releasing from his nose. 

Your cheeks blast with fire and the honest question nearly short-circuits your brain as you try to comprehend what he’s asking all the while you’re fully enjoying what is currently going on. When you fail to respond to Taehyung, and instead grip onto him tighter, he falters the speed of his fingers. Decaying his rapid speed growth with agonizingly slow and languid fingers thrusts until he stops fully. You don’t realize he’s halted until you notice the way your hips have been chasing his movement and pussy gripping onto his digits.

“No!” You bite your bottom lip to avoid letting the word come out as a scream. Instead, a whiny moan of desperation takes over as you’re pulling Taehyung flush against your body with need. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I can give you something better,” he insists on a different approach. Perhaps tonight isn’t the night you need his tongue down there, and he’s perfectly alright with that. His lips press into your cheek while his breath fans out of his mouth. “Let me,” he begins to reinsert his fingers, “sink my,” his knuckles graze past your opening and fingers bend slightly to a new angle, “dick into this pussy,” he growls as his two fingers begin to scissor you open like stretching the elastic of a balloon.

You whimper at the sound of Taehyung’s deep voice whispering into your ear. He’s surprised with how fast your hands move to his sweatpants. Reaching down, you palm his length eagerly, feeling the leaking tip of his cock already poking out of the waistband. Taehyung groans as you take him by surprise, squeezing over his girth and running your hand along his shaft. You want to shove your hand under his pants to feel the skin to skin contact, how warm, hard, and heavy he feels once you secure your fingers around him.

“I want to make you feel good, too,” you confess.

Taehyung offers a gentle kiss as his hand helps shimmy his pants down his thighs and past his knees. He kicks them off quickly before leaning his chest against you again, gripping your wrist and pulling it away from him. He pins your arm against you prior to letting it go in favor of sliding his palm up to interlock his fingers with yours. Below, you can feel his swollen cock nudging against your inner thigh at an odd angle.

“This will make me feel good,” he affirms with a small thrust into you.

His fingers tremble oh so slightly as they cup your chin, lightly pulling your face toward his. Your lips meet again, molding themselves like two puzzle pieces made perfect for another. So deep, so passionately. You barely even notice the continuous rolls of his hips, setting a slow and cautious pace.

“I love you, Y/n,” he leaves the words on the surface of your lips. His eyes, beautiful as the shine of the television which has been long forgotten adds a crisp glow to his dark brown irises, scanning over your features as he takes you in. They flicker back and forth with yours while his fingers push away some flyaway hairs from your face. The others which are preoccupied with being locked within yours tighten their grip with yours in a protective way to offer comfort and reassurance. To emphasize how seriously he means to speak.

Your heart would skip a beat if it were actually possible without having cardiac arrest, but that’s what it feels like – in some manner – whenever Taehyung confesses to you in such a way. Love, the word, is strong enough. It comes with an unlimited number of reasons and meanings. Love, itself, is something scary and heartwarming all in one. To have this kind of love, the one you share with Taehyung, man – there is nothing like it. There can never be a duplicate or a replacement for it. You pity those around you because what you feel with your boyfriend feels like nobody else can have it – with him or anyone else. It’s indescribable – the feelings that swell deep in your heart and mind. They fuel every nerve and fiber of your being. It makes you vulnerable, through and through. But you would always give that chance; will always willingly give Taehyung your entire entity if you can.

Because he means that much to you. Your whole damn life has been made until now and you want nothing more than to continue writing it with Taehyung. You could spend forever and a day tangling in your half-naked embrace, innocently kissing away all your life with Taehyung if that were such a thing.

You try your hardest to stop yourself from stepping to that stair of emotions, you really do. The plateau of all your touchy-feely feelings that makes you feel weak and scared. But it’s only because you hate to give anyone the options to see them. To possibly hurt you so easily because you expose yourself.

But not for Taehyung.

Over the course of your relationship you’ve grown to allow him and only him to see these sides of you. You accept him and all. Which makes him one of the very few human beings to be worthy of seeing such a sensitive part of you.

Tears sting and threaten to break past the brims of your eyes and Taehyung tenses. He knows. Of fucking course he knows. He feels you, not just physically, but he can feel that connection you don’t need to describe to him through a cycle of words. Taehyung has never requested for you to explain. From the very start he’s completely accepted it. It’s understanding and patience, listening and learning. Even with two headstrong cardinal signs, where bickering and intense fights are bound to happen, the two of you make it work. Because even with all those hard times together, there are great times that outweigh those unfortunate happenings. It makes you two stronger together, feel really connected with one another.

“I…” you bottom lip quivers. It’s hard for you to admit even when it’s just the two of you. Your eyes close with frustration, but you can show him better than telling him. “Come here,” you whisper before latching your mouth onto his.

Taehyung steadies himself on his elbows. He moves enough to align himself without the assistance of your hands or his, resting his smooth cockhead at the dip of your pussy and right at your entrance. Taehyung rolls his hips into you, pressing his dick between your velvety folds with a growing smile on his lips. He lathers his cock up with your drenched pussy juices, rutting his cock against you before lifting just enough to align himself properly.

Shallow pressure taps and knocks at your entrance, teasing and begging to be let in. Taehyung hovers you as he molds his lips with yours. When he pulls back, he remains centimeters from your lips.

“Please, say it back,” he whispers in that pleading, soft baritone voice. It wrenches your heart, hearing how heartbreaking it sounds coming from his lips. It plucks every single one of your heart strings, yanking them off their cords and breaking them completely.

The light from the television turns off from being idle for far too long, darkening the room even more and leaving just the silent snowy landscape outside to illuminate the living room. You can still see thanks to the soft light, Taehyung’s features angling slightly more, but you can still see his beseeching eyes waiting for you to tell him those magic words.

“I love you, Taehyung,” you sigh, trying to hide the choked up sound threatening to come out of your throat. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek, and as you attempt to reassure him with the gentle gesture, you notice something wet on your finger.

Small, salty and sweet tears run down Taehyung’s face. You wipe them up carefully, not voicing your concern and halting your actions. Instead, you pull him back to you to lock your lips. Giving him everything in one whole meaningful kiss as you cradle his cheek in your palm.

Slowly, he glides himself in with a soft push. The stretch makes you tense momentarily, but the breathy moan that escapes your mouth gets eaten up by his. It’s a delicious feeling, this intrusion welcomed with anticipation and excitement. The pleasure causes him to snap his head to the side as he breathes a moan into your ear, sending chills down your spine as he spears his cock into your walls at a slow pace. It feels amazing for him as well.

Inch by inch you feel Taehyung sink further into you, touching all those areas on your walls that need to be touched. His cock fills you, widens your canal and leaves no room for extra space. Taehyung slots himself expectantly, nudging himself as deep as possible as your warm, slippery pussy hugs his dick with indefinite need. A yearning from missing the way his cock makes you feel.

“More,” your hands grope around his back and slide down to the small of his back. His skin is so unfairly smooth, you would love to run your fingers against it for eternity. You sigh again as your legs split as wide as they can go, pussy throbbing with intense vibrations. Edging closer and closer to snap that coil that’s been winded tight within, waiting to snap and spill all over. “I want more. I want you,” you emphasize by gripping the meat of his ass and pulling him into you.

“You have me,” he promises with kisses against your cheek. You can still hear that emotional twinge in his voice like an off-tune guitar. Where Taehyung’s emotions play too heavily on his heart and have a voice of their own. “Y/n, I’ve given you everything.”

Taehyung finally gives in to the pleasure of your whiny need. He bottoms out in one smooth motion, the seat of his lap sinking right against you. He drags his cock out at a leisurely pace, only to repeat his steady pace and plunge right back in. He’s experimental at first, the last thing he wants is for it to hurt if your body isn’t fully ready for his size. But you coo and squeak the sounds of satisfaction and pleasure in the air at every movement he makes, alerting him that he has the green light to do anything and everything.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you find his mouth again, kissing his tongue-licked lips. You hook your legs around his waist and begin to roll your hips up to match his actions, meeting him as his waist comes back down to you. “Can I keep you forever?”

“Whatever you want,” he breathes.

Your tongues dance behind another’s teeth, battling out this physical love as your bodies spiritually connect as much as possible. Taehyung continues to thrust his cock into you in a loving speed, nothing brutal or with vigor – just full blown love and adoration.

Both of your bodies hold an amazing amount of heat now. It’s the first time you actually notice it. You never thought you’d feel this safe in such an intimate position. Exposed completely, pinned completely. By the hands of someone else, and not controlled by your own decisions. Taehyung’s arms cage you in as if they’re 20 stories high in a castle built with the finest cemented bricks and barricades, guarded with a protective army and magical dragon ready to fry any intruder who dares step near.

“I want –” you gasp as Taehyung’s cock drags along a sensitive bit of your wall as he simultaneously rubs against your clit with his pelvis. A short, heavenly whine escapes your lips and you feel your body screaming at all ends. “– I'm close!”

Taehyung gently grips your jaw and tilts your head to face him as he continues to shallowly roll his hips into you, making sure to hit that spot again and again. 

“Look at me,” he requests. “Don’t look away.”

He looks down at you like you’re everything he’s ever wished for. He loves you. He cares for you. He’s given you every single bit of him inside and out. He feels the most complete with you. Even if he doesn’t know how to tell you this every day. How he doesn’t know how to explain to you what he sees and feels. When words fail to describe the way every nerve and fiber in him dances in unison when he thinks about you. When he touches you. When he’s inside of you.

You smile softly. Taehyung truly is your weakness, an Achilles heel. You’ll do anything for him, all he needs to do is just ask. Blink… Breathe your way. You’ll be willing to do everything. If Taehyung ever asks you to jump, you’d respond ‘how high?’ He’s made his way under your skin, closer than you’ve ever been with anyone. Burrowed himself, anchoring his being to you like you’re his lifeforce – or is he yours?

Your eyes meet his, witnessing how wide his pupils have grown. Filled with a glaze of lust. Taehyung gauges your facial features as answers, rutting himself a bit harder into you. He notices how your blinks begin to falter, how your eyes threaten to roll back and how badly you want to close your eyes and relish in the pleasure. How your head wants to lean further back, pressing harder into the cushion below you as a slur of desperate whines begin to escape your throat. Indicating to him that he’s bringing you closer to the edge of release, inches close to being knocked off a cliff into an abyss of pleasure.

“T-Tae,” his name comes out as a plea. Your fist finds its way to the back of his head again as his hair slips through your fingers.

“If you can see how beautiful you look right now,” he shyly grins. He doesn’t tell you how his climax is racing with yours as well and he struggles to keep his composure until yours crosses the finish line first. “I just want to make you so happy, Y/n. I’ll keep giving you everything.”

Taehyung’s confessions make you feel embarrassed especially during such an act. So pleasurable and intense. It’s something you have to get used to because he’s notorious for admitting his love in ways like this. With you opened like a book; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Where it hits you the most, coming in with full force. It’s always hard for you to comprehend it – but during these times you never have the moments to actually ponder his words. You just need to listen to the words and hear his voice.

Accept it.

“I’m… Fuck…Tae,” you quickly gasp, trying to respond but you’re constantly trying to catch your breath. The rhythm of his thrusts increases in speed, he’s determined to draw that orgasm out from you. “I… I!”

Your body tenses and jolts at once, hips faltering but continue to stay open as your pussy eats up his cock. Sucking it in with a fluttering tempo as your orgasm crashes and derails off its tracks. It dives right into a pool, drenching every inch of you. Your pussy becomes noticeably more wet, squelching noises resounding in the air as Taehyung continues to roll into you. Perspiration trickles across your skin, trying to cool down your body from the immense surge of heat that blasts through you. Tears dripping from the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as you stare at Taehyung. Feeling nothing but weak under him as pleasure ricochets throughout your body.

“I have you,” he reassures. “Y/n, it’s ok. I have you even if you don’t realize it. Even if you don’t think you’ve given yourself to me. I’m right here.”

“I love you,” you whisper. Your voice cracks, choked up from the immense love and pleasure. How your body cannot cope and grasp reality. Where everything you felt control of has been stripped and taken by the hands of the man hovering above you.

“I love you, too,” he responds breathlessly. Desperately. 

Taehyung still battles his own release even though his body acts on its own. Yet he continues to increase in speed, delivering his cock into your cunt repeatedly. Needy moans spill into your mouth when he gives you another kiss, wishing he could stop and wipe away every stray tear that has fallen from both you and him.

He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power, swelling his heart each second that passes by. Your drenched pussy makes it far too easy for him to slip and fall, ready to bust open and release every single drop in his tightening balls. Before his load is pulled by the trigger, he pulls out of you and buries his face into your neck. His body stalls as his fist energetically runs up and down his shaft. Taehyung’s hips shake above you as he rasps out the affirmation of his release into your skin, mouth parted and kissing in anguish.

Ropes of white cum spurt against your lower half and some against your shirt like paint being thrown onto a canvas, adding character and design. It’s warm and the subtle thump of it landing on your body makes it seem suddenly sexy. 

Taehyung plants a kiss to your forehead, hovering there for a few brief moments as the two of you recollect your breaths and thoughts. You notice the arms holding him up shake with lack of strength and adrenaline pumping through him. He must be tired and you begin feeling guilty for Taehyung doing most of the work tonight.

You lightly push against his chest to indicate a change in position. He lifts, leans back enough to seat himself comfortable on the couch as his cock lays against his stomach, spent and softening. Following him, you move forward and swing a leg around him. At first you sit yourself over on his thighs, not wanting to add pressure to his cock which must be sensitive still. Taehyung looks dazed, momentarily confused as his stunned blinking speaks directly to you.

“Kiss me,” you request as your hands grip the bottom of your shirt and pull it above your head, tossing it on the ground behind you. 

Your hands run up his chest to his neck, gently running them to cup either side of his face. You hold his head, admiring the tired and sleepy look on his features.

“Again?” he questions as he reluctantly rips his eyes away from gawking at your exposed chest.

“Yes.” You answer, even when you know he’s asking more than one question.

You lean in, feeling the way Taehyung’s palms skirt the meat of your thighs and guide themselves toward your ass. He pulls you closer to him, ignoring the swelling of his cock that increases in pressure. Your lips meet, feeling the smooth cupid's bow meet yours. It’s sweet, genuine. You pour everything you have in you into the kiss, somehow hoping he can feel all your emotions in one gesture.

“Thank you,” you smile into the kiss.

The digital clock behind you reads 00:24 am. Flurries continue to fall outside, adding on another blanket of fresh white snow. Your loveable dog rests in his own puppy-slumber within the house, you do hope he forgives the two of you. The television fails to revive for another film. You and Taehyung continue to envelope yourselves with another, tangling your limbs, bodies, and souls.

Being closer than you’ve ever been.

Moodboard by: @kth1​ 

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[localravenclaw]

Casual Sunday ♡

It's okay, guys, I am completely fine!

Gonna add this one important thing because he's right, I truly am greedy.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sirius smut in kelp au, the only ideas that come to mind are either fighting for treasure or mermaid au

okay no but pirate!sirius is a whole different genre then pirate!remus. pirate!remus is soft and damaged, where as pirate!sirius is a lot more just like a classic cocky pirate. he's greedy, he's filthy, we love him.

i imagine he probably climbed the ranks extremely quickly (not that pirate!remus wouldn't become a captain, he just prefers to lie low, blend in). maybe seduced his way to the top, who knows...

he would honestly be amazing to write a dark fic about, but if we're going lighter, I imagine you meet him when he comes into dry land to spend some of his gold. booze, sex and gamble because what else would he need?

you hadn't been working at the brothel that long, and when he walked in, with that sea legged swagger and that heavy coin purse, he quickly had the whole establishment wrapped around his ring-clad finger...

they lined you all up along the staircase and offered him the best of the best! Camille from France who was renowned for her skilled tongue, Violet for if you wanted someone flexible, and even little Clara who still had her maidenhood intact. but no, as soon as he laid his eyes on you he knew, he had to have you.

and had you he did... he was rough, selfish and eager to feel the warmth of a woman once again. though when he had finished (probably rather quickly), exploded his pent-up load all over your tits, his demeanour seemed to melt away and he became an entirely different person.

he talked, genuinely got to know you and told you in exchange about all the crazy adventures he had experienced. he was a natural storyteller. who wouldn't become infatuated with a man like that?

at first, he just weaved his fingers with yours as the two of you spoke, then wandering fingers turned into intimate cuddles, where you occasionally shared small pecks, distracting him from his tale. eventually, the story was dropped and the soft kisses wandered further down your body.

it felt like he didn't come up for air till the sun rose, determinedly keeping his head fixed between your thighs, eating you out till you nearly passed out (or maybe you did 👀).

he spent every second he had with you in that little bordello room until his time on land ran out. kissing you longingly and promising that he would be back, that he one day he'd take you away from that place and give you a better life...

[staarborne]

Help I woke up like two hours ago, idk how long exactly, but I can not get back to sleep and I am tired as fuck and for some reason since I can't sleep I've been thinking about cars (the movies) (the ones with like lightning mcqueen and cruise n shit) and I was thinking about if they were human, like they'd sill be racers obviously and they'd race in the type of car that they are and then I was thinking about what they'd look like and how old they'd be and I came to the conclusion that mcqueen would be like 36ish, cruise would be 24ish, and that black car guy (I think he's in the 2nd one or something) would be like 27ish and Maytr (is that how you spell it?) Would be in his like late kinda 40s, maybe like 49 or something

[spacequokka]

Cause you're mine...

[ladysnows]

@draecaris said: ❝ i love being inside you.❞

leg  slips  off  hip,  resting  on  pelts  beneath  back  as  warmth  spreads  in  fine  flush  along  chest.  it  peaks  at  décolletage,  fingers  sunk  between  shoulder  blades  burying  nails  into  flesh,  he's  sweat  slick  and  everywhere  he  brushes  against  her  is  a  welcome  shock  to  each  nerve  ending.  hums  —  bit  swollen  lips  skim  along  jaw,  resting  at  the  whorl  of  ear,  and  gift  sharp  nip.  just  shy  of  opening  him  up,  welcoming  a  hiss  to  cheek  in  response,  feeling  the  restless  shifting  of  his  body  till  thigh  muscles  tremble.  he  stays  right  where  she  needs  him,  their  chests  pressed  close,  firmly  resting  against  pubic  bone.     ❝    stay  .  .  .    ❞    her  husky  voice  trails  off  at  the  end,  the  sole  of  her  foot  skimming  up  his  calf.  the  higher  it  glides  the  deeper  he  seems  to  sink  and  the  more  she  can  feel  him,  thick  and  pulsing  inside  her.

breathy  moan  and  a  languid  stretch,  and  her  belly  floods  with  more  heat.  more  tender  aching  want.  he's  carved  a  place  here,  she  refuses  to  ever  give  this  up.     ❝     ᅳ  just  like  that.    ❞    when  he  can  no  longer  sit  still,  and  she  can  taste  his  desperation  on  her  tongue  then  he  can  move.  then  she'll  push  him  onto  his  back  if  only  to  see  his  eyes  glaze  over  with  the  rolling  of  her  hips.

[songmingisthighs]

Missing Out

group : ateez

pairing : dilf!mingi × reader

genre : smut

wc : 4.1 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut; daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, age gap (mingi's like mayhaps at least a decade older, but both are still within legal limits), thigh riding, spitting, alcohol consumption (not to the point of being drunk, it's just for vibes and... spitting lmao),

a/n : frfr i hope he doesn't see this fic because God i would not be able to defend myself. tbh i planned on posting this on mingi's bitthday but i got shit happening to me. shit without my consent and I'm just trying to ride the stress like gandalf hopped up on cocaine riding smaug. so ykw i decided to post this on my birthday instead lmao. special thanks to @kitten4sannie for listening to me drop some ideas while i was on a road trip, i did some adjustments but it's still sexually frustrated dilf!mingi this fic is finally out so i hope you and everyone enjoy it <3

a/n/n : i take no responsibilities for any calf cramp that may or may not happen but alyssa, i still blame you for the great leg cramp at ass o'clock

a/n/n/n : my birthday sucks because it felt more like public service than anything but i got ticket to go to singapore again so i'll be reunited with my little brother and little sisters soon✌️ i'm raising money for my mental wellbeing which is so totally code for i'm trying to find a way to make my shituation better by making myself just the slightest bit happier after today's shenanadoodles

buy me coffee ?

After the day Mingi had, the cold drink in his hand felt like the reward he deserved. It was only then that Mingi realized why people always say that the Family Court is rough. Still, of course, it was extra rough for him because his ex-wife, the horned creature incarnate (a goat, not the devil), had dragged his name through the mud just to get the maximum alimony because she was a narcissistic bum with no life skill to fall back to as if Mingi was the one who told her to quit her job as a dental hygienist when they first got married.

During the mediation meetings and court proceedings, she took all of the potshots she could While no one took her seriously, it still pained Mingi because the more she and her lawyer attacked him, calling out all of his insecurities and questioning his character, the more obvious it was that Mingi had wasted 9 years of his life on this loser and he missed out on all of the marital milestones. The main sore spot was having kids. She argued that putting her body through pregnancy was out of the question because there were risks that could cause her body to look weird in the future and it's inhumane how a woman's body had to contort in such a way to accommodate another living being. But when her breast implant popped when she slammed the car door too hard, it was 'a normal occurrence'.

As much as his friend Yunho told him not to, Mingi couldn't help but wallow in the time he absolutely WASTED on the bitch only to be screwed over. The only good thing that came out of the divorce was the fact that he got out of it without having to pay alimony because his ex-wife had become too cocky with her cards. But still, Mingi had to give her the car, the savings account (that wasn't much compared to anything considering she had drained it to accommodate her filler addiction and alcohol dependency), and Tony Son, their personal trainer, the one thing Mingi could credit her because she had been the one who introduced him to the man who was able to sculpt his body to perfection.

"Is this seat taken?"

Mingi snapped his head to the side to see a woman younger than he, dressed in a tight-bodiced red sparkly dress that showed just enough cleavage for it to be classy rather than trashy and the A-line satin skirt stopped just three fingers width atop her knees. Slowly, Mingi nodded and gestured to the seat on his right side wordlessly. It wasn't until the woman flagged down the bartender and ordered her drink did Mingi questioned why she sat next to him when there were other seats in the bar.

"So, are you alone?" she asked, striking up a conversation with Mingi which honestly caught him by surprise because he had been told that he had a resting bitch face that doubled in intensity when he wasn't in the mood and he was doubling in his bad mood. "Yeah... I am, so..." his words allude to him wanting to be alone, but there was something about the person next to him that intrigued him so much so that his eyes seemed to be glued to her. Just the sight of her drinking her vodka cranberry made Mingi's eyes travel from her face down to her lap, watching the way she moved so gracefully. "So... You don't mind my asking why a man as handsome as you are would be sitting alone with a scowl on his face," she pointed out, forcing Mingi to consciously unfurrow his eyebrows and fake taking a sip of his drink, "I'm not scowling, I'm just tired and pissed off for wasting 9 years on a selfish bitch that deprived me of anything I want in life," he spat venomously, even the slight mention of his ex sent a really unpleasant taste in his mouth. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?" She pouted, inching closer to Mingi as somewhat of a signal. Noticing this, Mingi scoffed and shook his head but he still entertained the woman, "Got a time machine to help me undo the past 9 years?" "No, but maybe I can give you what your ex couldn't."

You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip when the look of shock on Mingi's face melted into intrigue. You had been watching him for an hour, sitting all alone, nursing his one drink as he toyed with his ring before chucking it into his breast pocket. Thank God he did because you were not about to approach a potentially spoken-for man. It took you a while to get substantial evidence of his status and it wasn't just because you were distracted by his plump ass in those slacks and the matching suit jacket and slightly unbuttoned black dress shirt didn't help your case.

"Little girl, I think I'm a bit too... Far for your reach," Mingi pointed out, raising an eyebrow at you as he wasn't sure that you knew what you were offering him. Mirroring him, you raised your eyebrow and shifted so that you faced him fully as you raised one leg and cross it over the other, successfully inviting Mingi to get a glimpse of more skin. "You don't know me or what I can do, sir," you smirked challengingly, now openly inviting him to poke you further.

You were delighted when you saw Mingi's jaw clench and throat bob after you called him sir. It was proof to you that Mingi had some sort of inclination of being in control and his little confession about not getting what he wanted from his ex-wife might be a glimpse of the kind of fun you could get from him. So without hesitation, you decided that you were going home with him.

Surprisingly, Mingi responded positively by leaning in to cup your chin and pull you close, just a wispy breath away from having your lips meet and you so desperately wanted to taste his because they just looked so damn juicy and plump. "You don't want to know all the things I've been deprived of... Baby." Your eyes darken and your legs crossed tighter to suppress the sudden arousal washing over your core, excited at the confirmation that Mingi was playing into your games just as you had wanted. All you needed to do was lock this down. So you let your hand lay on his thigh, squeezing it suggestively and enjoying the feeling of his muscle tensing underneath you each time your hand slid closer to his crotch to the point that your nail was scratching the inner side of his thigh just right. Despite being physically affected by you, Mingi still maintained eye-contact, daring you to poke his button just right.

"Yes, I do... Daddy."

In the blink of an eye, Mingi smashed his lips on you and all of the oxygen was knocked out of your lungs in one go. His lips were soft but the way he used them was rough yet calculated. You could taste the smoky whiskey on his tongue as he slipped it inside your mouth. Little did you know, he too, was enjoying the way you tasted. Your lip gloss had a sweetness to it that made him wonder if you're the type to plan things or if it was just a happy coincidence. He also took note of how you allowed him to lead you and the more he asserted himself onto you with every nibble of his lip and every caress of his tongue, showing that you're more on the submissive side and he likes it. A lot. The more you felt pleasure, the more you pleasured him back as evidenced by your hand rubbing against his raging boner.

Mingi smirked at the way you whimpered when he finally pulled away from you to slap a couple bills on the counter before he got off the stool, pulling you along with him. You wobbled slightly but Mingi immediately pulled you flush on his chest and despite having just made out with him, you found the gesture very hot. "Wanna go see if you can keep up with the list of things I missed out on?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mingi must be some kind of a business owner because no way he would have had a rather impressive office where you found yourself in. Well, on top of him on his couch, grinding your panty-less core against his thigh with your top down, allowing the older man to ogle at your tits as you tried to make yourself cum.

"Is that the best you can do?" Mingi taunted, circling his crystal glass which produced a tinkling sound from the ice in the drink he poured as soon as you reached his home. "Daddy, I want you to touch me," you whined but your hip was still relentlessly moving after making a big deal of how his thighs were so strong and you wanted to sit on them like a throne. So instead of just sitting, Mingi told you to make yourself useful and prep your pussy without his help and he wanted you to do it by riding his thigh. His thick, glorious thigh. "Don't you want to touch me, daddy?" you teased, cupping your boobs and tweaking your own nipples whilst throwing your head back, making a show out of it just to get Mingi to touch you. Sure, Mingi was intrigued, but he knew damn well that he was holding the reigns and he had to hold himself back from jumping at the opportunity to completely ravish you too soon. "I do, baby, but you're being a brat right now and refusing to listen to me. Had I wanted that, I would've stayed with my ex-wife." Your head snapped back up at the mention of his ex-wife and you glared at his smug smirking face, "You have me half naked on your lap and you still mentioned your ex-wife?" you gathered your skirt in your hand, exposing your cunt to Mingi's eyes and slowed your pace to a prolonged drag that left long, dark stain courtesy of your arousal.

Finding your petulance adorable, Mingi chuckled and pulled you in for a searing kiss with one hand cupping your chin and the other slapping you on the ass as if telling you to speed up your movement. "You're an adorable little doll and I'm gonna break you," he muttered against your lips before you could reply to him, Mingi tugged your hair back as he casually took a sip from his drink. The action made you yelp and Mingi swiftly leaned over and spit the drink into your mouth and clamped your jaw shut. "Swallow," he commanded and as you came down from being surprised, you stared into Mingi's eyes. At first, you only stared at him, feigning defiance just for fun and Mingi found that both intriguing and annoying. His grip moved to tightly grasp your jaw and he growled, "Swallow. It." He demanded in a stern voice that made your panties more damp as your cunt clench, leaving you unable to do anything more than whine and swallow the burning liquid. Mingi found you very mesmerizing even on an act as simple as you taking heed of his words. The stray spit and alcohol that trickled from the corners of your lips enhanced the glimmer of your smudged lipstick and lipgloss combo, turning Mingi on with how effortlessly sultry you looked. He was down and he was down bad. He wasn't even sure if he was down because Once the liquid was no longer there, you rolled out your tongue to proudly show your obedience and Mingi let out a shuddered breath seeing you just blindly following his orders like the good puppet you are.

"Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me."

In a flash, Mingi flipped you both around so that you were trapped underneath him with your head strategically on the armrest. The elevation allowed you to watch as Mingi dragged a hand down your body as if you were a work of art. "All this time... I was missing a lot all this time, that bitch took nine years out of me and gave me nothing," Mingi shuddered both in anger and in arousal. The contrasting thoughts between being so angry at his former partner and the excitement of being rewarded by being able to ravish you felt like waves crashing inside him. It was thrilling. It was exciting. It got his adrenaline pumping and God, he felt alive. "Poor baby," you purred all the while slowly popping the buttons of his dress shirt off to reveal the soft skin underneath, "You're so frustrated, It's a good thing I'm here now huh?"

You swung your leg up and used the tip of your toe to tilt Mingi's chin upwards maintaining a somewhat neutral expression but the twinkle in your eyes indicated clear intrigue. "Tell me all the things you want to do. What do you want most?" the question made Mingi roll his eyes back and he grabbed your leg by your ankle. "You nasty slut, you want to have an older cock so bad you're enticing me with empty promises, huh?" He mumbled against the skin of your leg, trailing his lips down from the heel and lower to your calf as his body followed down until he eventually stopped at the mid-section of your inner thigh. You helped him by flipping your skirt up, exposing your cunt wholly to him and slotting the leg you lifted on his shoulder, "Empty promises? I want to give you whatever you want daddy, and in order for me to be able to do that, I need to know what it is."

Thinking that he had nothing to lose anyway, Mingi smirked and decided to test you. "I want a baby," he stated, "I want to put my baby in you," he said oh so casually as if he hadn't had his fingers poking and prodding your cunt like they just belonged there. Truthfully speaking, Mingi was expecting you to push him off and ran away screaming because what kind of a hookup just casually dropped a bomb as big as he did?

But it seemed like Mingi's luck was turning around for the better because you replied by reaching forward to free his cock from his pants, trying as best as you could to suppress the surprise at Mingi's size (but failing as evidenced by the way your eyes bulged slightly and your tongue peeking out to lick your bottom lip in hunger) before you leaned back and opened your legs widely as an invitation for him. "Then do it, fuck me so hard and dumb and deep that I'd have no other choice but to have your baby," you smiled up at him. Mingi could only stare at you in shock initially, not really knowing what you meant until you whined and pulled him closer using the leg that was hooked on his shoulder. "Daddy, don't make me wait too long. Come on, put a baby in me!" you pleaded, cunt throbbing with eagerness to feel Mingi's cock stretching you now that you already caught a glimpse.

The shock melted away from Mingi's face and even as he was guiding his cock to your core, he was still carefully watching your face, not wanting to waste any twitch or shift in your face from feeling him but also he was trying to be careful in case you showed him any indication of regret or if you changed your mind. But the way you whined and rolled your hips so your wet cunt could meet his cock more gave him the green light.

"You dirty slut," Mingi grunted before he shoved his length inside you in one fluid movement. The accumulating arousal from you riding his thigh provided proper lubrication but his sheer size was not something you're used to so your body tensed up at the impact. "F-fuck, daddy, y-you-" "Am I tearing you apart, baby? Are you being split into two on daddy's fat cock?" he asked in faux worry that was just him being condescending towards you. But you don't care, you found it hot even when he talked down to you as if you were nothing but his plaything. "Yes, yes, daddy, I'm being split open on your cock but I love it! I love it so much!" you moaned, hands clawing at his skin, causing red streaks to appear from the pressure of your nails, "Fuck, I want more!"

With that, Mingi pushed your legs up by your thighs, exposing more of your lower half to him. "Be daddy's good girl and hold these open, I wanna see your pussy taking my cock raw," he hissed, eyes zeroing on the way your puffy lips split open to accommodate his size. Carefully, as if assessing a great piece of art, Mingi watched attentively The view almost brought tears to his eyes but he channeled the somewhat endearing moment into fucking you stupid into the mattress.

Each drag of Mingi's cock felt like fire against your inner walls. Although there was a slight discomfort with each movement, the added pleasure of being filled like you had never before made you addicted.

If you thought you were enjoying yourself, Mingi was very close to combusting and he was trying his best to not cum too soon as he didn't wanna be branded as the geezer who came too early. But he couldn't help it, not with the way both his ego and his cock were stroked. It was as if you were made for him and he felt that the moment he entered your sopping cunt. So Mingi shifted his focus to you instead, working to get you to cum first.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. I need you to cum first so you'd be ripe and open for me to fill you up," Mingi huffed, pressing his pointy nose against the junction of your neck that sent tingles down your spine, "We need to do our best to make sure that you'd be good and pregnant, right?" The weight of his words caused your head to spin as the thought of him filling you full for his own pleasure filled your mind. "Yes, yes daddy, make me cum please," you whined into his ears, your body reacting almost automatically by rolling your hips against his own to match his speed and desire. Mingi growled hungrily and his pace quickened significantly as the impact got harder. You were sure that after this your ass would be different shades of red and blue but you couldn't care less. Especially if Mingi wanted to do more rounds with you, you'd gladly wear the bruises like a badge of honor.

"Fuck, you're so hot like this, you're so hot when you're willing and submissive for me," Mingi grunted, even verging on whining into your ears because you just felt so good to him but he held firm, "Are you close, baby? Are you cumming soon?" Lucky for him, you nodded hurriedly, confirming that you were close. Your brain had been marinating in the dizzying arousal that it was embarrassingly quick for you to nearly reach your climax in a rather short time. However, your response was deemed lacking to Mingi who wanted to hear a verbal response from you. Mingi was quick to slap you hard on your left tit as a punishment, feeling the need to chastise you for simplifying your response.

The words died on Mingi's tongue and his hips sharply halted to a stop when he saw you yelp and shudder before coming completely undone underneath him, writhing pathetically as your nails grazed his skin, leaving red streaks for Mingi to show off for days on end. His eyes darken when he saw tears pooled in your own eyes before dropping, creating the illusion of your eyes sparkling which served a rather complex combination of innocence and sinful. "M-M- Daddy," you whimpered in almost a hushed tone, barely comprehensible but to Mingi the sound was thunderous in Mingi's ears, ringing, because his baby girl needed him. His baby girl wanted him. His baby girl who's willing to give him anything he could ask for was longing for him. So who is he to deny you?

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state seemed to unlock something primal in Mingi because while you were reeling down from your orgasm, Mingi was instead put into some sort of a trance. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, slightly hoping that he could taste your sweetness in the air, and his hips restarted with a pace so hard and quick, for a moment you forgot that Mingi was a human.

The pleasure from your orgasm tripled with the additional friction continuously given by Mingi whose head was flooded with the thought of truly possibly getting you pregnant from this first time. Not that he was planning on only fucking you once, not after he felt how good you made him feel both emotionally and physically. He was planning to pamper you to death and maybe that was the sexually frustrated side in him but he didn't care, he didn't care how crazy he was because you were the one who made him crazy.

The sound of hips snapping together in a rhythm accompanied by your drunk-like moans sounded like a symphony in Mingi's ears. "F-fuck baby, I'm gonna fill you up now," Mingi grunted, his eyes closing and his forehead dropping to your shoulder, "I'm gonna fill you up with my seed to the brim and you're gonna be a good girl and keep it all in so my baby can grow safely inside of you, okay?" He whispered so intimately against your shoulder that both your lips and cunt wept. You wouldn't be surprised if there was a pool underneath you after you were done and you won't hesitate to ask for more. "Cum, daddy. Cum inside me. Fill me up so hard and full like you promised me!" You whined, your hands snaking around his shoulders to hold tight as the overstimulation caused a tingling pain that made your toes curl while Mingi was getting such a high from his ego being fed.

"Fuck, baby girl, this is it, I'm gonna put my baby in you!" Mingi grunted and thrusted, once, twice, thrice, before his hips stuttered and you felt a gush of warmth spilling deep inside your cunt. The physical feeling of being filled up made your eyes roll into your head and the realization of what just happened made you blush as if you weren't whoring for his cock not 10 minutes ago.

As Mingi slowly came down from his high, his mind cleared up and he was able to pepper kisses from your shoulders, up your neck, along your jawline, and then gently all over your face. The contrast of the sweetness of the older man and the nasty act you both just did made you suddenly turn all giggly and shy. "Aww, come on, are you trying to get away from me?" Mingi smirked, trying to chase another kiss from your lips but you kept dodging him, "That's pretty absurd considering I still have my cock inside of you, plugging you full." Your eyes widened at the vulgarity of his chosen words and you couldn't help but smack him on the shoulder but fail to hold back a giggle, "Don't say it like that!" "Like what? Like the way it is?" Mingi teased, pushing himself up to trail a finger on your stomach which made your breath hitch and your muscle to tense, "I need to make sure you really do get pregnant so you can give me my baby just like I wanted," his voice trailed as his fingers drew patterns on your skin almost lovingly and the nonsensical side of you wanted to believe that he was showing his affection to you. You figured that there was only one way to find out.

Without missing a beat, you took his finger that was tracing your skin into your mouth and start licking around as if it was a lollipop, effectively causing Mingi's attention to shift to your face and his cock to twitch inside you. "Who said we're only gonna try this once, daddy? You're gonna fuck me as much as you like until I'm good and pregnant."

The smirk that bloomed on Mingi's face was devilish and almost menacing, showing his genuine intention to get wamhat he wanted.

"I hope you'd never ask. I'm gonna fuck you all night long and you're gonna be a good girl and take it all with no complaint."

As if you'd say no.

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[slvttyplum]

hi love! can you please write a jealous gojo smut

being friends with an ex wasn't ideal at all, but there you were, cracking it on the phone with them at 10 o'clock at night in bed. satoru thought he had to be dreaming, seeing things, or hallucinating, but no, he wasn't doing any of those things; he was seeing it nice and clear, with that pretty ass smile on your face that he thought was reserved just for him.

at first, he let it slide. he knew before that you stated that you and your ex were casual and would catch up every few months, but your phone time with them started to become frequent, and he wasn't liking it one fucking bit. this was off the rails, and he knew that if he was doing this, you would throw a fit, and that's exactly what he was about to do.

there you were, laid up on your phone again with a smile on your face as you typed and typed away without a care in the world, satoru's cheeks flushing red from anger, thinking that someone was out to get him, that this was some sick joke, but it was neither; you were just too nice, and he was going to handle it.

there was no discussion, argument, or ultimatum; it was just his dick inside of you with an angry face. he could teach you better than he could tell you. with something like this, he couldn't be patient. he tried to give it some time to dial down, but that wasn't happening any time soon, so he had to distract you in the best way possible, in a way that he knew your mind would be flooded with him only.

shock was the last thing that came to mind when satoru started to fuck you out of nowhere, not taking any time to slip your panties off either. you thought it was just him being a horny dog until it started to become frequent. he started to just walk in the room and scan his eyes at your hands to see if your phone was sitting in them, and if it was, he would just fuck you with no question asked.

it didn't even have to be at night or even once a day; you could be minding your business, and he was there, tossing the phone out of your hand and sliding your panties to the side. it started to become more like a chore than satoru actually fucking you, until one particular night he fucked the marbles out of your head. he fucked you so well you could barely breathe; it was so good you almost had to tell your friends about it.

he came into the room like every other night and scanned over you to see if that phone was in their hands, and surprise, surprise, they were. satoru was over the whole situation; he was tired of it, so he had to be petty one final time, and he would stop, but not because he had to, but because your ex wouldn't want to text you after what was sent.

it was a given that satoru would record during sex; that was jerking material; why wouldn't he when you gave him permission to? so that's exactly what he did, taking his time this time, setting up his phone, and doing the usual foreplay. getting you nice and wet, so wet that his finger could easily slip in and out of you with ease, slowly pulling down his briefs and sliding himself into you.

its like you saw heaven, your pupils growing bigger and a sharp gasp slipping past your soft lips. there it was, that expression he hasn't seen in a while, an expression of shock and pleasure mixing together to get that sexy lewd look on your face.

multiple positions, sweat rubbing off on each other's bodies, and makeup on your face running that you didn't even know was still on; it had your toes curling and back arching. you never wanted him to stop, and luckily for satoru, he didn't. he wanted to make a statement and send a message that you were his and for his use only; no one else was going to have the experience of fucking you the way he did or having you gasp for air whenever he hit the right spot.

tossing you around and not even asking to change positions, laying you on your back just to push you against his chest and slam into you even deeper. his dick so far inside of you, you thought it was going to get lost, wanting to clench and feel on your stomach, but satoru poinned both your hands against your back.

"tell me how good you feel, baby; no one else can make you feel like this, right?" his mouth close to your ear but still loud enough to where the camera could hear, looking directly at it and pushing into you more, small gasps slipping out of your mouth and your saliva dripping down your chin. satoru kisses your cheek as he grinds into you, trying to make himself go deeper, knowing it was impossible. 

"yes... only you." your eyes rolling to the top of your head and your head spinning, satoru fucked you so good that night you had to call sick to work the next day, and as for the recording and your ex, you didn't even think about them after that night, and that was perfect because you never found out about the recording satoru sent.

never go tit for tat with satoru because he was winning every time.

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

[vultbae]

hot boy delivery ✩

college!art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: Tashi's handsome alleged boyfriend knocks on your door and asks for her since she's your roommate. But she's not there, so you'll borrow him for tonight.

↳ warnings: smut (minors dni), tipsy sex, mentions of cheating but isn't, porn with plot, mean!reader at the beginning.

↳ notes: yall know the drill english is not my first language! so sorry if anything doesn’t make sense

word count: 5.7k

Stanford isn't what you would call a party school; there isn't an endless rage circuit or binge drinking regarding students –or at least the ones you know. So when you decided to enroll in college, you knew any unpleasant symptoms like headaches or fatigue would be caused by academic all-nighters and no hangovers as you believed years ago. It was a deal-breaker, but it was Stanford at the end of the day.

Your parents had enough funds to bring to the table independence privileges most college students don't have, for example, living off-campus."¿Why would I decline this unusual offer?" you thought at the time, giving in to the advantageous idea of complete autonomy and no supervision—you had seen places around the Palo Alto area, cozier and more stylish than any archaic-looking dorm room Stanford had to offer for a few thousand dollars a year —six to seven, to be exact.

Somehow, you had ended up on the shithole you had been attempting to dodge for so long. Your best friend, Diana, had gaslighted you into believing that coexisting in the same place with other young people is one of those stimulating aspects of attending college. Heck, rowdy dorm parties, popping Plan B's, snorting coke from someone's fake boobs!

Bullshit. Diana had gotten into Stanford, too, and all of your thrilling anticipations of rooming with her vanished when she had to rescind her offer due to the scarcity of financial aid. She ended up committing to Virginia State University. At the other fucking end of the United States.

You had promised Diana to go above and beyond to fulfill those wild ideas about college. Guess what? Now, you were forced to live in a rusty dorm without your extravagant Palo Alto apartment, your best friend, and rooming with a weirdo.

And, of course, you still hadn't snorted coke out of anyone's fake boobs.

"Oh my god," you breathe out with a sigh of annoyance. You let the back of your head fall over the headboard of your bed as your hands reach up to rub your tired-looking eyes; your laptop is lying on your lap, screening the article you have to read for some core course. It's almost seven o'clock, and you are about to surrender and take a twelve-hour nap. 

You can't, though. Your eyes roam around and descend on your roommate's side: empty, noiseless, as if there wasn't someone there two hours ago. The apathy in your facial expression is prominent as you notice the cluttered desk, bed blankets hanging off, and wrinkled clothes over the floor. "How disgusting," you think, shaking your head and facing your laptop again, pushing it off your legs this time.

Your roommate was indeed something else. After swallowing against your will the miserable fact that you wouldn't room with Diana, your parents had already paid for Stanford on-campus housing, and it is what it is. A month before moving to California, you had seen the name of your designated roommate for the freshman year, Tashi Duncan.

You are not confident about the sort of woman Tashi is. Although you had been cordial and accommodating with her —even though you didn't want a roommate, she is not what you would call a friend. Tashi is a tennis player, apparently a very talented one, since many people around campus ridiculously fangirl over her  —but you don't know if it's because of her model-like physical complexion or her sports talent. Well, it's not like you care. But despite sharing a dorm room, Tashi's interactions with you are minimal and curt, and conversations with her are typically one-sided. She rises early and evaporates for the rest of the day.

Doubtful, you pick up your Nokia from the nightstand and quickly text her, "Wya?" to feel responsible –she has never done it, though. Since you live in an on-campus residence, entry isn't monitored until eight p.m. during the week, and you already know she won't arrive by that time. She probably won't arrive at all.

The anxious chewing on the bottom of your lip ceases when your phone vibrates with the "I'm staying at Art's x" message popping on the screen. A mix of relief, bliss, and sovereignty surges from your body's core. You don't know who Art is, but you've heard Tashi talk about him a couple of times, so you assume he is her boyfriend, sneaky link, or whatever freaky shit she would be up to. You briefly contemplate the text, instantly replying, "take care :)" and waiting for her not to respond.

You sit there, stunned for a hot minute, considering the countless activities you could do now that you are —and will remain—all alone. Mild daylight peers through the opened curtains, although it's getting dark. Your head slightly turns to the two-lite slider window between both beds, revealing the distinctive greens of the trees that reach your view—a typical Stanford campus panorama. 

The bedroom is ample; the floor is covered with cheap deep blue carpeting, and the walls have been sealed with a matte layer of pearl white. Your mural side is preciously decorated: polaroids, stickers, and decorative leds shimmering in a warm yellow tone adequate for winter, while Tashi's side is... three posters: two from random tennis players and a large Spider-man one. "What are we, ten-year-olds?" you murmur, eyes rolling back, exasperated as you sit in the sight of the oversized picture.

You really can't get what is so amusing about Tashi.

Your phone rings suddenly, and you sense your muscles twitch at the unexpected ringtone clashing against the lifeless four walls. A big "Diana" is written in black letters, blaring at you, which is a good sign of an enjoyable night. With no second thoughts, you pick up.

 "¡Hey girl!" are the first words you hear from your best friend. 

You haven't seen her since the summer break –four months ago–and time hasn't been your ally in terms of missing your friends. Diana and you always intended to attend college together; nevertheless, you can't predict anything about college. Now, she resided in Virginia, while you did in California. 

"I've missed you so fucking much," you grin against the phone, talking with enthusiasm. You stand up to walk to the shared kitchen, "how's everything been in Virginia?"

Diana scoffs at your question. "Do you for real think I called you to talk about boring-ass Virginia?" she mockingly complains, sarcasm dripping out of her voice. "The real question is, how's everything been in Cali?" she adds, half screaming the last two words.

Your humorous facial expression morphs into a disgraceful one. "Well, mediocre if you take out the fact I live in this dorm. Otherwise, pretty shit."

"At least it's a Stanford dorm," Diana points out, giggling.

"Well, you are partly right," you answer, now supporting your arms over the kitchen table, "I just wish it was my dorm at least and not Tashi's, you know."

"Right, your roommate; what's the deal with her?" she asks.

¿What's your deal with her? If this were a frankness competition, you'd undoubtedly roast her without needing to lie. Sharing an apartment with an entitled asshole who thinks she owns the place makes it challenging.

"She's not my type," you let out, sighing. "I've been trying to talk to her for God knows how long, and she doesn't give a shit," you pause to breathe through your nose, trying to keep your cool. "Like, I can't understand. Do you know how many people would love to room with me?"

Diana's gasp nearly pierces your eardrum, "She's such a bitch!"

"Yes! She is," you interrupt her, squeaking out your words. "Also, she brings dudes or the same dude, I don't know, like at least twice a week. She doesn't even care if I'm sleeping; what if I throw water at them next time?" you inquire decisively, not caring if your words sound nonsensical.

"You do you, girl," your friend says, slightly chuckling, "I assume she is not there now, isn't she?" 

You hum. "She isn't. She is at some dude's place. So that means I have the dorm for myself."

"Don't you care if she is safe or something?" Diana queries, almost instantly biting back a groan in response to your silence. "Yes, I know she's an asshole, but at least you should know. Some guys nowadays are creeps."

"I do, I do..." you hastily assure, your voice tone appeasing your friend's worries. "I do know the guy's name is something like Art, and I could find out his last name if I scroll through our chat. I'm pretty sure it's her current boyfriend. I've heard her talk about him."

"My God, that girl has some real action!" she hollers; a burst of mocking laughter spills out of her lips. "What about you, though? I miss hearing hookup stories from your side. Don't waste your time; Stanford has hot ass guys!"

And she was right. The amount of handsome guys around campus was not minor.

"You know what?" you say, pointing at the air as if you were talking to Diana in person, "I'm not even going to reply to that comment. I've been so focused on-"

Your words are cut off by urgent, loud knocks coming from the main door, "The fuck?" you think. Your jaw clenches but abruptly loosens as you realize Tashi can't be here after her presumptive schedule; you don't expect anyone.

And also, there's a rainstorm outside. 

"Was that knocking on the door?" Diana asks, and your attention goes back to the call. You hum in response.

"Yeah, and I'm not expecting anyone." you reaffirm while your hand reaches out to your little notebook, where you keep all the emergency numbers. You sigh out a frustrated "fuck" when you realize you don't have the number of the security guard downstairs. "I should check through the peephole; it's probably a dumbass mistake anyway," you add, trying to sound unbothered.

¿Who the fuck would sneak into an all-student residence? For what, to steal? You haven't bought groceries for two weeks. It would be a shitty investment of skill.

And obviously, you curse yourself under your breath for being such an exaggerated bitch. But, seriously, who would visit you?  Not even the wildest of your friends would wander across campus at night with this weather.

"Call me when you do it. I have to do some homework now," Diana demands, and you are snappy to obey and hang up the phone. 

You stay still, eyes stuck on the main white door. A minute passes with absolute silence encircling you until you hear the identical frantic knocking again. Same tempo, everything.

"Goddamn, relax," you murmur to yourself.

 It takes a couple of steps forward for you to approach the door and a single step to the front to see through the small peephole.

Your eyes wince slightly at the sight of a boy you've never seen in your life standing outside. You even feel the need to comically scratch your head as you notice a short-arm cast dressing up his right arm; how bizarre. "¿Is this mother-fucker trying to rob me?" you talk to yourself, making sure he doesn't hear you. Obviously, he'd predict any regular person to open the door without a doubt –"Poor boy, he's wearing a cast."

"He's too hot to be a thief," your mind suggests. And yes, he is. If you are one hundred percent honest, he seems like he would study at Stanford. He looks kind of familiar, even. You can't clearly analyze his features due to the lack of lighting in the hallway, but when his head tilts to the side, a sharp shadow forms under his jawline, and his blonde curls bounce along with his moves. 

You text Diana again. "hot boy at my door x"

Although suspicion is gnawing at the back of your mind, you open the door. With a gentle twist of your wrist, you turn the knob clockwise and cautiously swing the door inward. The hinges creak softly, and the chilly air from the hallway rushes in, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes narrow in recognition —and confusion—for a beat. A lightbulb suddenly flickers on in your mind.

"Hey..." the guy in front of you greets you softly and politely, his voice barely above a whisper.

You have seen his face around, but you can hardly remember his last name—Dawson, Davidson? Something like that.

"...Is Tashi around?" he asks, his voice carrying a note of desperation.

Your gaze rakes down his figure. He's wearing a Cardinal performance polo from Stanford and thin black polyester shorts, both soaked—presumably from the storm roaring outside. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath, and as if by carnal instinct, your eyes delineate the muscles of his abdomen tightening; the outline of his six-pack is visible through the soaking polo clinging to his torso. Tiny water beads accumulate along the strands of his blonde hair, glistening, growing heavier, and descending onto your doormat with soft plops.

He's hot as fuck, you think. Straight out of one of those cliché Teen People magazine covers. But it's not only his physique. Something about how he stands there, dripping wet, vulnerability mingling with his athletic build, piques your interest. It's sort of contradictory and sexy as fuck.

Your eyes drift down to your own outfit—pajama shorts and a crop top. It's not too practical, considering the chilliness from the residence hallway drives your nipples to react against the thin material of the top. His gaze falters for a second, lowering to your bare midriff, and you catch the way his cheeks redden. You hear how he chokes with his saliva.

But it’s bizarre, too. His functional—left—hand is grasping a large Smirnoff Ice bottle by its neck. Your features smooth out at the sight of the clear glass bottle containing one of your favorite low-alcohol cocktails.

It's a raw lure, just like the owner of the bottle.

But it's still bizarre. Because why is this hot-ass guy holding a delicious-ass drink standing outside of your dorm?

You pull your gaze away from the Smirnoff bottle. "Aren't you supposed to be hiding the booze?" you blurt out, raising a finger to point at the bottle.

Maybe your tone was too sardonic, or it was the uncaring disregard of the Tashi question because the blonde guy's face reddens in a deep shade of crimson —again—spreading rapidly from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Aw, he's embarrassed. His eyesight shifts to the bottle, and he acts as if the bottle magically spawned in his left hand.

But you don't wanna spook the doll away.

You audibly clear your throat, trying to rectify your rudeness. "And no, Tashi's not here," you add, attempting to depict kindness and capture his attention again.

He stays silent. As the rosy hue of his cheeks vanishes, you can sense he's building up the courage to keep interrogating you. "Do you know where she is?" he timidly asks, gliding the bottle under his left arm as if trying to hide it now that his plans are ruined.

The guy's smoking hot but fricking awkward. It doesn't make sense. He's six feet tall, lean, handsome, and muscular; why is he acting all timid? He's standing past your doorframe, practically asking for clearance to trade words with you. It doesn't make sense.

"Yeah, she's staying with this Art guy. Maybe you know him," you say, gaze unconsciously disembarking again on the Smirnoff bottle.

The guy's eyebrows furrow and his blue eyes dart back and forth as if digging for an answer hidden in your dorm. His facial expression gradually shifts from puzzlement to realization and then to frustration.

"Son of a bitch..." he mutters under his breath, his voice laced with malice.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning amazement. "Sorry?"

It makes you wanna chuckle at the sudden, humorous switch in his expression.

He inhales sharply, his blue eyes scintillating with sadness and something deeper, perhaps a sense of betrayal? You don't know. "Are you sure Tashi's not here?" he questions again, the tone of his voice hardening. "I'm Art."

The prior flickering lightbulb turns into one illuminating your memory's dim corners. His facial features now have a name: Art Donaldson, another celebrated first-year tennis player. There aren't many Art's around, so the first time you heard his name —even before Tashi— falling out from one of your closest friends' lips on campus, you should've known it was him.

So if he’s Art, that means Tashi lied.

Shit. Tashi's cheating on this guy.

You hope he doesn't notice because you know a flicker of darkness is dancing across your eyes as the seed of an idea takes root in your mind.

A smirk curls your lips as you relish the scrumptious irony. "Oh, you're Art? The one Tashi talks about all the time?" you say, voice dribbling with mockery.

He doesn't respond; he just looks at you with those piercing blue eyes. But then he speaks, "Yeah, I guess..."

You seize the moment, reaching out and stealing the bottle of Smirnoff from beneath his arm. "Well, I guess I'll take this," you say, twisting the cap open and taking a long sip. "You won't need it, right?."

You know exactly what chord you want to strike.

Art's jaw tightens, his face a mix of irritation and helplessness, but he doesn't oppose. You can see his struggle and even sense how his mind races to make sense of the situation. He was expecting Tashi, who was not his girlfriend yet, but he had arranged this to get to know her better. Instead, he's faced with you—an unexpectedly attractive challenge.

And, of course, he wanted it. There was the initial shock at finding you instead of Tashi, but an undeniable attraction stirred something profound within him —a foreign sensation he hadn't felt before. And he's by no means a virgin or a "lame-ass," as Patrick would call him from time to time. Art knows how to have fun. But he's used to the upstarting idea that women must be salivating over merely hearing his name. That's why he obsessed over Tashi Duncan; she is dominant.

But of course, fucking Patrick had to take her tonight.

You lower the bottle, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "Or maybe you shouldn't go back to the rain," you say with a shrug, "you could come inside in case Tashi comes back, and I'd think about sharing the Smirnoff with you."

He hesitates.

You step aside, holding the door open wider. "You don't wanna go back to the rain, don't you?" you add with a mischievous grin.

For a heartbeat, he stands there, his resolve wavering. Then, with a resigned sigh, he steps forward, crossing the threshold into your college dorm like a lost puppy.

You close the door behind him, drawn to let out a scream when he's not looking after how things were interestingly evolving. The room grows warmer for Art and you, the atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken intentions from both sides. You take another sip of the Smirnoff, savoring the lemony taste. 

"Make yourself comfortable," you express, gesturing to the modest common area where the kitchen is. Art follows your lead, his movements stiff from the water and his arm cast.

He's about to push back the strap of his black Adidas duffel bag to roll it down his right arm —cause he was holding THAT and the Smirnoff bottle, when he turns to you and, contemplating his words, he speaks, "Do you think I can use your shower?"

"You would do it anyways if Tashi was here instead of me, so..."

Art takes that as a yes.

-

The bottle of Smirnoff sits nearly empty on the wooden night table beside your bed. Although you had explained earlier to Art that Smirnoff ice was "inoffensive alcohol," it hadn't failed to cultivate an effect of tipsiness in both of your warm bodies. Art's initial awkwardness had been disbanded by the bitterness of the alcohol coursing through his veins. And your mean facade had shifted into a more loquacious, sarcastic, and bold one.

The common area had grown colder. In one instance of exorbitant bravery, you offered to move to your room— Art had said yes way too fast. The space was cozier and filled with your personal touches.

Art is sitting on your bed, the back of his head supported against the wall, while you lie on your stomach beside him, propped up on your elbows, attentively hearing as he converses about another obscene anecdote of his. The dim yellow lighting from the led lights from your side of the wall casts a soft glow over both of you, making you equally horny and exhausted —the calming sound of the rainstorm outside didn't help.

Art had changed into a grey T-shirt with "Stanford Tennis" printed across the chest. His strawberry blonde hair is nearly dry and slightly tousled...

The rich, warm sound of Art laughing fills the room and clocks you out of the trance. "...I swear, I walk in and see Tashi doing some nasty, weird thing to him. The next morning was hell for him. I couldn't believe he was into that type of shit."

"God, was she pegging him?" you giggle, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands.

Art chuckles, shaking his head. "You don't want me to get more explicit."

You pout playfully. "Don't be an asshole. Tell me." 

Art raises an eyebrow, intrigued, half-smirking. "Why are you so interested? Are you going through abstinence?"

The truth is yes but against your will. The bad thing is that you can't filter the information spilling out of your mouth whenever you drink.

"Depends. Are you gonna bully me if I say yes?" you ask, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

The rhetorical question prompts Art to tilt his head, confused. "I'm not a playboy myself. And also..." he slightly lifts his right arm with the cast, alluding to it. "After my injury, I can't do much."

Your thoughts started tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. You started picturing too many scenarios where Art would still be able to fuck with the arm cast on. The amount of vivid, fleeting mental scenarios internally summoning the attention you couldn't provide right now makes you feel physically ill and euphoric.

"That is not true."

He giggles again, a sound that causes your heart to flutter despite your mind warning you about potential word vomiting. "Well, I can't even jerk it off. Is that enough for you?"  

"Not really. There's plenty of stuff you can still do. Ask someone to give you a blowjob or something," You suggest, way more convinced of your comment than you should. 

Art’s natural smirk fades as he processes your sentence, his eyes squinting as if he's about to test something. He's holding back a chuckle, "That's a wild thing to say to someone you met two hours ago." 

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, "Don't tell me you are one of those people who think sex is taboo."

"Hey, no, I'm not." He raises his left hand in front of you, palm open and facing outward. "Asking someone to suck my dick is just gonna give me a fat restraining order."

At this point, the notion of reality has altered for you. Not much, but to the extent things that would commonly make you pause and reconsider your life choices now seemed perfectly reasonable, even hilarious. "Asking this guy I just met to fuck me? Awesome!" You think. You feel an overwhelming sense of camaraderie, a genuine tie to Art, fueled by the shared silliness of the circumstances and nasty anecdotes of this so-called Patrick. 

"Oh, please..."  You wave your hand carelessly as if waving away his absurd comment. "Who would put a restraining order over that?"

"What would you do if someone asked you to suck their dick?" 

But, before replying, you push yourself up onto your knees. The bed creaks softly as you shift, and you slide your legs out from under you, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed. 

"So?" he insists as you finish changing your position.

"Oh my god. Well, it depends on who's asking." 

Your last words hang in the air between you and Art, electrifying and charged with suggestive tension. Predisposing yourself to Art's potential lack of boldness, you let the tipsiness strip away your remaining self-respect. "If you asked me, I wouldn't say no," you add.

Your words cut through the alcohol-induced haze like a sharp blade, leaving Art momentarily sober. It's difficult for him to think properly. It feels like a thick fog full of thoughts and bitter rememberings encircles him, but you cannot see it. 

He helplessly daydreams about the scenario where this is Tashi instead of you, tossing salacious remarks at him and attending to whatever crap he chooses to say. But it isn't. He doesn't know you properly; he hasn't seen your serve or even how you hold a tennis racquet. And you haven't seen much from him either.

Patrick doesn't know about you either. His Patrick, with the captivating smile and the big-dick aura. The one that has been setting him up with women forever, as if he couldn't do it on his own. 

That's how he realizes the attraction towards you —even if purely carnal, is authentic and unpretentious. It's not polluted with anything else. You aren't flirting with him because you eventually want to mess around with Patrick. 

There's bone-deep curiousness humming through Art's veins, but he won't fuck up the first time a gorgeous girl wants to fuck him.

"Then I guess I should ask you," Art states, attempting to maintain his voice steady as his heart plummets.

You lean in closer, your faces now inches apart. The dim glow of the led lights casts a golden hue over your skin, making the moment feel even more surreal for Art. “Good, 'cause I have wanted to do you since you knocked on my door." 

The familiar aching warmth starts to pool at the bottom of your abdomen as Art's lips attack yours, parting them with easiness; you kiss him fiercely, savoring a mixture of Smirnoff Ice and spearmint. Art kisses you like he's starved of it; he slips his tongue inside like he has been patiently deferring his devilish invasive thoughts. He is, damn, a wonderful kisser. Flawlessly proportional: immodest, licking into your mouth, so sexually arousing, at the same time so tender, holding you close with such courtesy it makes you want to scream.

With the strength of his left hand, he draws your body closer to his, deepening his mouth as much as possible on yours. The contact makes your stomach jolt, tardily falling into account you are blending Art's masculine scent with yours. Art's upper-body muscles harden at the ecstasy, and the subtle contour of the veins on his arm arises on his skin, popping out as he possessively grasps your waist.

Between wet kisses, his mouth quakes as he lets out a hushed chuckle, "Wait, is it true... what you said?" he mutters into your mouth and raises your chin, taking a pair of hot seconds to look at you straight in the eye.

You relish the sensation of his fingers racing down your waist and descending on your hips, gently squeezing; your hands are holding onto the nape of his neck, caressing his skin. You kiss him again and roll his bottom lip between your teeth, "I've never wanted to fuck anyone so bad," you husk into his ear, words purring as you teasingly lick his ear lobe, lowering the wet kisses until you end up licking down his throat. You trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down his skin; your nails scratch lightly over his back, folding at the sensation of his warmness capturing yours.

Art swears he's about to pass out.

You swing one leg over his lap, carefully straddling him. Art wastes no time, lining his hips with yours, pressing and grinding, compelling your body to feel small in his presence; the mean grip of his hand drops to the end of your back, slowly running down your sides to cup your ass over your pajama shorts, slowly plunging his fingers on your skin. Quick, discreet moans slip out of your mouth, each one driving Art to his edge. The hardness of his cock pushes against your pussy, making you gasp between kisses. 

Your cheeks prick with heat as you hear a clap sound, a slap against someone's skin: your skin. Art spanked your ass rough, and you could anticipate the red handprint remaining in your butt for a couple of hours. His hand smacks again, grasping the over-sensitive plush of your ass at the end, making your muscle throb, "Art!" you whimper, squirming.

"Don't be too loud," he whispers against your neck, demanding.

Art's lips trail down your jawline; his breath catches in his throat every time the aroma of you transits to his chest. You tilt your head back to grant him better access, and your vision goes fuzzy as you discern Art's teeth sucking and biting on your neck, "...d-don't mark my neck," you add between whimpers, piercing his eardrum in the most sensual way imaginable.

"Can I mark this, then?" he snaps back, his right-hand cupping one of your tits over the material. The lustfulness creeping through your body evolves into dizziness, changing how your heart palpitates.

You overtake him and take your crop top swiftly without wanting to see him making extra effort. You audibly gasp when he determines to bury his face between your tits, his thumb and pointing finger skillfully rubbing and then rolling your nipples between his fingertips. 

You are so fucking overwhelmed. Art realizes, and with a wicked smirk plastered on his face, he gives a low coo, "You are so sensitive-"

"Shut the fuck up," you cuss softly, thrusting your chest out, slightly arching your back at the filling sensation. A slimy coverage of saliva grows over your left nipple; Art's mouth works over your bud, flicking with his tongue, making you impossibly wet, "Art, please, I need-"

"Need what?" he glances up at you, neglecting your nipples coated in spit, the cool breeze clashing against your skin and prickling your dermis with goosebumps. 

You pant under your breath as his fingers play with the waistband of your shorts. You grab his hand and put it away, "I'll take care of you."

Your gaze descends to admire the outline of his cock, pushing against the thin fabric of his shorts.  "Let me taste you," you beg, tracing a finger down his chest and reaching the waistband of his shorts.

"Pretty convenient since I can't do much, huh?" Art suppresses a laugh. 

You don't say much. You come off his lap to drag him to the end of the bed, feet touching the carpeted ground. As you sink lower, you unconsciously smile at the things you will tell Diana tomorrow. 

You squat down on your feet, your hands positioned on Art's thighs, supporting your body in case you lose balance. You palm his clothed dick, rubbing your fingertips against the slim layer of clothing, anticipating how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth; you shoot Art an incredulous look, enjoying his heavy-lidded, lustful grimace. 

Your fingers hook around the waistband of those goddamn shorts, sliding them down, along with his underwear. In one fluid motion, his cock springs free with his reddening, glistening tip slapping against his stomach. 

You think this is the perfect situation to overpraise him. You assume these guys love it. Tennis players with a big ego —and a big dick.

"You are so big, Donaldson," you praise, prolonging the word so seductively and not breaking eye contact with the blonde guy. You admire him, captivated by how his Adam's apple twitches; he gulps.

Your fingers wrap around his length, gripping his base, starting to stroke, gingerly moving from base to tip, stopping to rub his swollen tip and spread pre-cum along his shaft, simulating lube. His muscles tremble at the touch, yanking at your hair. You dart your tongue out, flattening it, licking his cock up and down, kitten-licking his thick tip and sweeping your lips across it, loudly slurping the shiny, gooey substance leaking from his dick. Art's torso feels deficient in oxygen as you lock eyes with him, simultaneously stroking his cock mercilessly, sucking on his head; his lungs ache for air.

You bob your head slightly, and your mouth opens wide, taking him further and increasing your pace. Your mouth is warm and wet; he can't wait to stretch other holes if you feel exceptionally good like this. 

"How does it feel?" you take a look at Art's journey, who has his head thrown back. You want him so bad to praise you back. When his head returns to its place, you meet eyes with him and give a tantalizing squeeze to his cock, eager for more reaction. His fingers jump to run through his hair, exasperated.

You don't —and can't know that Art is holding it back already. He's been holding it back since the moment you straddled him, and he could feel the warm wetness of your pussy over his throbbing dick. 

In desperation, he pushes your head, positioning your lips straight over his dick, "Please, princess," you obey and put it inside your mouth again.

He lets out a groan when his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You try to relax and breathe through your nose, allowing him to hit it constantly, deep-throating his length, drooling over his cock, swallowing around him. He strains his hips forward, tugs your hair, and essentially fucks your throat without requiring you to do anything but suck and be good for him.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel the muscles of his legs unconsciously twitching. He's close.

When his hand on your hair pushes you up, you resist and stay there for longer, anxiously waiting for his cum to hit your throat. With a rough jerk of his hips, you finally taste his sperm filling your mouth. You swallow it.

"Shit," Art mutters, hyperventilating and staring at you with heavy-lidded eyes. "You just made me reconsider if I'm still precocious."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Or maybe I give good head?" 

After catching his breath, his eyes fall over your figure. There's something so amusing about you, and it's definitely not the remaining mix of cum and spit over the corners of your mouth.

It's just you.

The rain continues to fall outside, a steady rhythm that matches the pulse of his heartbeat. It wasn't the post-nut clarity that made him philosophical, but he can genuinely feel that the only thing that matters is how amazing he has felt around you.

Art breaks the silence. "Let me take you out tomorrow night." 

-

[eternalxvenus]

↳˗ˏˋtoji's special workoutˊˎ˗ ↴

summary: You were late to meet your personal trainer Toji at the gym. Luckily he let you stay after hours, but he was going to make sure you got a proper workout before leaving.

cw: smut 18+, personal trainer!toji x f!reader, pet names (doll, slut), p in v, Toji is a little mean/rough in this ngl, deepthroating, handjob, unprotected sex, light nipple play, slight orgasm control, degradation, fingering, squirting

wc: 2k

notes: i really hope you guys enjoy this fic! i'm actually kind of proud of it lmao. once again sorry it took so long but feel free to send in asks/requests!

You were driving in your car, contemplating going faster than the speed limit, when you saw that the time read 8:34 pm. You were supposed to meet Toji, your personal trainer at eight o'clock, but you were running behind. You knew he would be irritated since you already pushed your regular workout time from six to eight, and now you were late when the gym closed at nine. 

You pulled into the parking lot, and thankfully, the lights inside the gym were still on. You breathed a sigh of relief, grabbing your gym bag and jogging inside. 

Placing your bag by the lockers, you walked over to Toji, who was lifting weights in front of the mirror. “You’re late. Luckily, I'm friends with the owner. He's gonna let us stay late s'long as I lock up tonight,” he said, his voice slightly strained from lifting the weights. 

"I know, I know, and thank you. My meeting went on longer than it was supposed to and then there was the traffic-"

"Start stretching," he says with a grunt. He sets down the weights and looks over at you. "You're gonna be doin' legs tonight."

You nod and do your usual stretches for your leg days. As you were doing squats, you glanced at Toji through the mirror, and it seemed like he was looking at your ass. You brushed it off as him just watching your form and continued.

You finished your stretches and headed from the stretching area over to the leg press machine with Toji. You got in position as he placed the weights on. "I want ya to do 5 sets, 15 reps each." Your eyes widened. "Last time I only did 3 sets with 12 reps!"

Toji snickered, a smug look on his face. "You're supposed to be getting better and stronger, not staying the same. Plus, you wasted my time being late." You scoffed, "I apologized, and it wasn't even my fault." He rolls his eyes. "Don't care. Just get it done."

~

You finally finished all your workouts (they were excruciating, and you will definitely feel it tomorrow) so you headed off to the showers while Toji cleaned up. You realized after showering that you had left your bag out by the lockers. You called out from the shower room door, "Toji! Could you bring my gym bag?" You didn't hear a response but sat on the bench and waited.

A few minutes later, you heard Toji's voice. "Alright, I'm comin' in." He walked into the shower room, your gym bag in hand. "Here ya go." 

You thanked him and took the bag. You both stood there for a moment in silence, and he didn't make a move to leave. He stood there and took in your damp body from head to toe, and you held the towel a little closer to your body. Toji's tongue peeked out and swiped across the scar on his lip.

He took a step closer before speaking, his voice lower than usual. "Y'know, I don't think I worked ya out hard enough." Your breath hitched as your heartbeat sped up, hammering inside your chest so hard you thought it burst out.

Of course, you knew Toji was attractive. He had a perfect build, his abs, pecs, and biceps constantly straining against his compression shirts. And when he was shirtless, he looked absolutely jaw-dropping. Other women in the gym would ogle and stare, he was a wet dream come to life. He also oozed sex appeal. Whether it was intentional or not, you had no clue. The deep smoothness of his voice and the harsh encouragement given during training caused wetness to pool in your underwear more times than you would like to admit.

The thing is, not only is he a few years older than you, but he has a kid (which you found out after getting a text saying he had to cancel because his son was sick.) This made you assume he was married but didn't wear his ring to the gym. He was also your trainer, so there was the professionalism of it all.

Toji took your chin between his fingers, his thumb lightly brushing your bottom lip. "What do ya say, Doll? Think I should work you out a little more?" He spoke again with a smirk on his face. 

Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips, the scar more noticeable up close. You figured this would be a one-time, heat-of-the-moment thing. Why the hell not. “That's what I pay you for, isn't it?”

The moment you said those words, his mouth was on yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue massaged yours in a way that made you melt. Both of your bodies were pressed up against one another. You could feel the growing bulge in his sweats pressing against you.

“Get on your knees. Let's start by trainin' that throat of yours...” You immediately obeyed, watching impatiently as he removed his sweats and boxers. His cock sprung up right in front of your face, and you realized he was big. Not wasting any more time, your fingers reached his base as your tongue licked his slit, tasting pre-cum as you sucked the tip. Toji hissed at the feeling and bucked his hips towards your touch. When you took him into your mouth, he groaned, placing a hand on the back of your head. You felt unbelievable. His taste makes you even wetter than you were before. “Let's see how much you can take Doll.” He pushed your head further down his length, making you gag as his tip hit the back of your throat, but the noise made Toji groan. 

Your nose was pressed against his pelvis and you reached your hand up to tease his balls. "F-Fuck! You tryna make me cum?" he said looking down.

You nodded making a muffled sound of 'mhm' as your eyes started to water. Toji pulled you off his cock and a string of saliva and pre-cum dribbled down your chin. 

"Such a pathetic slut. Taking my cock down your throat and playin' with my balls like that. You just can’t fuckin’ help yourself, can you?” He moaned as his hardness twitched right in front of your face. “That desperate for my cock, huh?”

You moan as you clenched around nothing. Your voice was breathy and slightly hoarse when you spoke. "Love having you in my mouth Toji." Your hand starts to pump his length while the other cups his balls, fondling them as he bites down on his lip. His head is thrown back, half-lidded eyes fluttering as he rolls his hips along to your touch. 

After a few minutes of you stroking him, Toji pulled you off the floor and laid you on the nearby bench. Your towel had come off, and he finally had an unobstructed view of your body. His hands came up to play with your now stiff nipples. "You're so fucking sexy, Doll. I can't tell you how many times I got hard just watching you work out. These perfect tits bouncing and that sexy ass."

"So you were looking at my ass earlier." you giggled. You noticed Toji's staring at times, but always thought it was a professional gaze, not a lustful one.

"How could I not. Those shorts make it hard to be professional. Now it's time for stretching. Gotta make sure I don't break you."

Suddenly your legs were spread apart, and Toji was working two of his long fingers into you while his thumb focused on your clit. Your breath hitched, and you clenched around him immediately. "Oh- shit! Please make me feel good Toji. I wanna cum, please."

Toji scoffed. "Already begging to cum? How desperate are you, huh? You're not cummin' anywhere except on my fuckin' cock. Got that?"

You nod, unable to focus on speaking while his fingers piston in and out of your cunt, spreading your arousal.

"Use your words slut."

"I won't cum anywhere except on your cock. I- fuck... I promise."

He gave a short hum of approval as he took his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth. "Such a sweet cunt. I'll have to taste you until you shakin' and cryin' another day."

Before you could even process his words, Toji removed his sweats and started rubbing his hard cock up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. In a swift movement, you felt your hole being stretched by his girth.

"Ah- holy... shit Toji!" You nearly screamed as you felt him bottom out inside you, his tip pressing against your G-spot. "You’re so fucking deep!"

Suddenly, Toji's hands were placed behind your knees, pushing them down towards the sides of your head. His pace was nothing short of ruthless. His heavy balls were slapping up against your ass with every harsh thrust. You didn't know if it was because you had just finished working out, but everything felt much more intense. You could hear the wet sounds coming from your pussy. One glance down, and you saw the white forming at the base of his dick.

"M'gonna fuck this tight pussy until I've ruined you for every other man. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Knowing I'm the only man who can make your pussy feel this good." You nodded mindlessly at his possessiveness. A light sheen of sweat covered both your bodies as he fucked you into oblivion. He released his grip on your legs and watched as your back arched into his touch. His hands moved to cup your breasts, pinching at your nipples. Toji then leaned in to place a painful kiss on your lips, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his tongue made its way into your mouth, causing you to moan sinfully.

The force of his thrusts caused a distant pain on your back from laying on the hard bench, but you didn't care. All you could think about was your orgasm that was quickly approaching.

"Damn it... your greedy cunt just keeps suckin' me in. Gonna get me fuckin’ addicted." Toji's thrusts became harder as he placed one of your legs on his shoulder.

"I'm close- so close Toji. Please can I- ah!" Loud whimpers and broken moans spilled from your mouth as Toji fucked you. You were so close.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Cum on my fuckin' cock then, slut." He brought his thumb down and worked fast circles on your clit. Your whole body tensed up as you screamed, eyes rolling back into your head, back arched off the bench. White hot pleasure shot through your entire body as you squirted all over Toji's thighs and abs. Your walls squeezed him, nearly suffocating his dick.

"Fuuuuck... that's it, good fucking girl. Cum all over my- god damn- cum all over my cock!"

You were finally coming down from your high when you felt Toji pull out. Your eyes were hazy and unfocused as you watched him stroke his cock, his eyes squeezed shut before spilling his cum all over your stomach with a groan. "Oh... fuck yes"

He took a moment to catch his breath before taking in the sight in front of him. "Look at that... all fucked out and covered in my cum like a true slut."

You smiled lazily as you sat up on the bench. "I'm only a slut for you."

He gave a low hum of approval before helping you stand up. "You bet your ass you are. Now how 'bout we go get cleaned up in the shower."

You gave a nod as you started towards the shower on shaky legs. Once you were both inside with the water on, you turned to him and saw his dick hard once again and realized you weren't going to get cleaned up just yet. You knew you'd definitely be sore for the next few days and that you'd have to do more late-night workouts with Toji in the future.

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[talaok]

Movie night

Summary: Peter's coming over for your weekly movie night, and you’ve decided you wanna confess your feelings for him, but as it turns out, he has similar plans

Warnings: Smut| unprotected p in v sex, praising, soft!Dom Peter

a/n: thanks to this request I might go back into my Peter Parker era honestly. Also, @wtvbabes (this is not the person that made the request)

It was time for the weekly movie night with Peter, 

You had been doing it for so long that you didn't even remember how or when it started, it was now simply a part of your routine.

Every Friday night, at 6 o'clock you went to whatever house was free, ordered pizza, and watched a movie each of you had chosen.

It was routine, so you shouldn't have been nervous... except that this time, this time wasn't gonna be like the other times, this time you had made a promise to yourself that you were finally gonna come clean, that you were finally gonna confess your feelings.

You had been keeping it a secret for way too long, and you were tired... god, were you tired, it was exhausting pretending like you didn't want more, like you didn't wanna kiss him and hold his hand every time you were together, and perhaps it was the holiday spirit surrounding you, or perhaps it was the fact that Gemma, your other best friend, had given you a 30-minute talk about how you should just "stop being a little bitch and tell him already" after you had started your usual ramble about how perfect and great Peter was,

But you had made peace with yourself, if this was gonna ruin your entire friendship, if you were gonna lose him forever, then so be it, because at the end of the day, if you couldn't have him like you really wanted to, then there was no point in having him at all.

And just then, when you were repeating your script to the mirror for the thousandth time, the words coming out of your mouth not even making sense anymore, he knocked at the door.

For some reason, a gasp fled your throat, but after the familiar "hey, it's me" from the other side of the door all you could do was take a deep breath and fix your dress.

It's all gonna be ok, it's all gonna be ok

"hi" you smiled, opening the door

Your anxiety must have been all over your face because the way he frowned at you told you everything you needed to know.

"hi" he said, coming into the house as he inspected your face "is something wrong?" he asked "Please don't tell me your sister changed the password to her Netflix again"

You forced a smile to your lips "no, no everything is fine- let's just... sit down"

"ok..." he frowned, following you as you sat on the couch "did something happen, or-"

"no" you shut him down "I-I just wanted" You shook your head as you regretted your choice of words "no actually, I need to- uhm- to tell you something"

You watched his eyes widen slightly, but out of all the things he could have said, he chose the only one that made you even fucking more anxious.

"Really?" he smiled "That's funny 'cause I do too"

You swore you felt your heart stop beating.

What could he ever need to tell you?

"w-what?" 

Your voice didn't even sound like your own, it was just fear and stress finding a way to come out of your body.

"yeah" he nodded, watching you closely "so... you wanna go first or..."

"no, no, you go first" you spit out, making him chuckle

He still didn't get why you were acting so weird, but to be perfectly transparent, he was kind of freaking out internally himself, so he didn't really have the brain capacity to investigate further.

"Alright" he laughed "I'll go first"

His eyes focused behind you for a moment as he prepared for whatever was coming, and just then, did you notice that perhaps you weren't the only nervous one.

What is it?

Did something happen

Oh god, did he find a girlfriend?

Your heart was beating out of your chest and then just like that, he came out and said: "Y/n I like you" with a hopeful smile on his face, while yours completely stilled.

Actually not just your face, you as a whole went completely still, frozen at the words that had just come out of his mouth

Did I just imagine that?

Am I dreaming or something?

What the actual fuck is going on?

That was supposed to be my lin-

"y/n are you there?"

He was talking to you, you realized.

"w-w-what?" your eyes were wide open in shock 

"I know" he smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "I know it's out of the blue, and I really really hope this won't ruin anything, but... I've been feeling like this for a long time about you, and I just- I needed to tell you"

And then you could do nothing, absolutely nothing but throw your arms around him, hugging him so tight he probably couldn't breathe.

"y/n?" he murmured, hugging you back, but before he could say anything else you leaned away, still holding onto him as if he were a life jacket, and smiled like an idiot.

"I like you too Peter-" you grinned "I really really like you"

The smile on his face now matched yours, as his eyes sparked with joy

"you do?"

"of course I do!" you almost yelled from the excitement "that's-that's what I wanted to tell you! I can't believe this"

You looked into each other's eyes, both incredulous and unbelievably happy altogether, 

you were so close, but an inch between your faces, that what happened next was inevitable.

His lips were on yours, 

his lips were on yours and they felt every bit as good as you had spent hours and hours imagining.

And then for a moment, you both leaned away, looking at each other as soft silly laughs fled your throats.

"i can't believe this is real" he breathed, melting your heart right into a puddle

"I can't either"

And then his lips were back on yours, but this time... this time he was hungrier.

His tongue was exploring your mouth, and his hands were one holding your face, while the other started roaming your body, pulling soft whimpers from you as your arms remained locked behind his neck, your left hand gently playing with his hair,

And then in no time, without a clue of how or when, you were lying on the couch, and he was on top of you, his legs parting your thighs.

And you didn't need to know when it had happened, because all you knew was that you liked it, god you really fucking liked it.

His whole broad and strong body was engulfing yours, his scent was all around you, his hands were everywhere, and his mouth... his mouth was simply heavenly.

As embarrassing as it was, you couldn't control your body as you started grinding down onto his leg to try and relieve some of the need pooling between your legs.

"please" you pleaded, whimpering softly into the kiss.

"I like it when you beg, sweetheart"

And if you wanted him before, you now needed him

His lips moved to your neck, starting a slow trail from just below your ear, down until he found your shirt as an obstacle.

You didn't need to be told twice and helped him take it off of you in a second.

Your bra wasn't far behind.

"god, you're so beautiful" he praised, making you blush 

he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while his other hand played with the other one, making you lose your goddamn mind as you shut your eyes in ecstasy.

"oh my god" you moaned, one of your hands going to his hair as he switched up the breast he was taking care of.

Your panties were completely drenched

He continued his work as his hands traveled underneath your skirt, caressing your thighs in a way that was turning you into a putty mess in his hands.

His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric, and with the help of you raising your hips, only the sheer fabric of your panties divided him from where you begged for his attention

"Peter" you called, stopping him as he had seated himself in between your legs

"yes, sweetheart?"

"I-I've only ever done this once"

His features softened and one of his hands traveled to your face to cup your cheek as he left a soft kiss on your lips

"don't worry, I'll go slow," he promised "I'll take care of everything, you just relax, ok?"

"ok" You nodded softly "I trust you"

He smiled at that, kissing you again "Thank you"

And no more than a few seconds after that, you were completely bare before him.

"you're perfect sweetheart" he murmured "fucking perfect"

He left a kiss on your pussy, making you moan, before his lips were on you again, and you were more desperate than you had ever been.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, frantically trying to get it off of him.

"Peter please take this off"

He didn't need to be told twice.

His shirt was on the floor with the rest of your clothes in no time, and then came his pants.

He went back to kissing you, the kiss now a heated mess between your moans and his hunger.

"baby please" you whined, your hand going to his boxers 

"what do you want sweetheart?"

"you, please, all of you"

Your voice was so thin and so breathy it was almost incomprehensible

"what about me?" he asked, his mouth next to your ear "You want my cock sweetheart, is that what you want?"

"yes" you moaned, as his hand played with your clit "I'm begging you, please, I need you inside of me"

He freed his cock from the confines of his briefs, as he kept kissing your neck

"you're gonna be good?" he asked, his tip now collecting all your juices and making you squirm uncontrollably "you're gonna be good and take all of it?"

"yes" you breathed "yesplease, yes-"

And without so much as a warning, he had started to push into you

"told you I like hearing you beg"

You moaned so loud you surprised even yourself, and then he retracted his hips and pushed another inch of himself in you, and you were just about ready to die.

"O-oh my god, P-peter" you moaned

He made the same motion again, and you couldn't help but look down at where your bodies were meeting, and that's when you noticed,

"fuck you're so big" you breathed, watching as he thrust only half of his dick inside of you

"it's ok" he purred, kissing your neck sloppily "Just be a good girl and take it" he ordered, pushing in again "Take it all inside this tight little pussy"

A high-peached moan fled your mouth again, as your pussy stretched around him,

"just like that," he said, his hot breath fanning over your skin "That's a good girl"

He was now fully inside you, by some miracle, he had made himself fit, and he felt absolutely perfect.

"fuck you feel so good" he groaned, picking up his pace "so tight" he grunted, feeling your walls squeeze him better than anything ever before "like you were made for me" his thrusts somehow felt deeper now, resulting in even more moans and cries coming out of your mouth

"O-oh god" you whimpered, feeling him hit and hit and hit again that perfect spot inside of you.

"You're taking me so well sweetheart"

The couch was now shaking with each of his movements, while your brain had stopped working and all you could do was cry out as he brought heaven to you.

"look at you" he murmured, kissing your mouth "So beautiful" he praised "so fucking pretty" he groaned, as your walls tightened around him "squeezing me so good" 

His thrusts were so fucking deep you could feel them in your belly, and your orgasm was inevitably approaching

"such a good girl"

A louder moan left your throat at that, and he definitely noticed

"you like it when I call you that?" he asked, smirking devilishly "You like hearing that you're my good girl?"

Again, another cry, followed by a frantic nod now.

Your ability to talk had been lost a while ago.

"It's just what you are" he purred in your ear now "You're my good girl y/n, only mine"

And that, that sent you definitively over the edge.

A series of cries and moans resembling his name came out of your mouth as the best orgasm of your life took over your body completely.

He waited for you to come down from your high before he pulled out of you, spilling his seed all over your belly not a second later.

"fuck" he muttered, his head falling to the crook of your neck

You stayed there for a moment, waiting for your heartbeats and breathing to calm down,

And only then, only after you spent five minutes in the most comfortable silence, did he lean away to look at you.

"I love you, Peter"

You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, it was just the truth

And not a beat had passed, that he had already answered

"I love you, y/n"

[little-diable]

Too Sweet - Dean Winchester (smut)

Of course I had to write something with one of Hozier's new songs. We aren't surprised, are we? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader are stuck in a back-and-forth they can't escape from, until his jealousy manages to push her away from him. But Dean won't let her go, he just won't.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, some jealousy/possessiveness, quite fluffy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

It can't be said I'm an early bird, it’s 10 o'clock before I say a word, baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

“Dean, c’mon! We have to go.” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the Bunker, hands pressed to her sides as she called for the older Winchester brother. Annoyance was flushing through her system, already fed up with Dean not managing to get up on time, already fed up with how he went against everything she told him. “If you don’t get up, I’ll kill you in your–”

The door to his room was pushed open before (y/n) could finish her sentence, eyes staring at Dean. He wore his signature smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest to study her as he leaned against the door frame. 

“You will kill me where?” His voice still had the morning rasp to it that left her thighs trembling, unable to say something as Dean reached for her, pulling (y/n) flush against him. Her breath hitched in her chest, her heart pounding against her ribcage as if she had just finished fighting a supernatural being. “Speak when you’re asked to.”

“Fuck you!” She ripped herself free as Dean’s loud laughter clawed through him, high on the feeling of (y/n) pressed against him. Heat flushed through her as she turned from him, putting some distance between her and Dean before he could taunt her some more. 

For years, the two had been stuck in the same circle, a back and forth that never crossed any lines, just filled with teasing, bickering, and some unspoken heartbreak whenever one of them took somebody else to bed. A circle both desperately wanted to escape from, a circle both hated more than words could express, a circle neither of them managed to speak of to the other.

……

You keep tellin' me to live right, to go to bed before th​​e daylight, but then you wake up for the sunrise, you know you don't gotta pretend

She had her eyes focused on Dean, how he was leaning against the bar with a beer in his hand, with his eyes focused on the blonde woman standing close to him. Anger was flushing through (y/n)’s veins, wondering if he simply wanted to taint her, to annoy her some more after a day filled with bickering, or if he was genuinely interested in the woman who looked like all others he had chatted up in the past weeks. 

“You look lonely.” A voice spoke up, forcing her out of her thoughts. (Y/n)’s gaze found the dark eyes of a man standing close to her. For a second, she wanted to push him away, to tell him to leave her alone, but knowing that she was desperate for any kind of distraction guided her words right out of her mouth. 

“Seems like it.” He sat down next to her, and let his eyes wander over her features, while (y/n) managed to look back at Dean once again. She almost choked on her sip of beer as she found him staring at her from the bar, lips pulled into a thin line, jaw muscles ticking in anger. “What’s your name?”

“Mike, and yours?” A smile began to widen on (y/n)’s lips, urged on by the feeling of Dean’s intense gaze, knowing that he now felt the same annoyance she had felt only moments ago. (Y/n) murmured her name, but no further word managed to leave her. 

She felt him before she saw him, with goosebumps rising on her skin, with her breaths growing shallow, with her mind and her heart racing. Dean came to a halt next to (y/n), staring at Mike before his dark green eyes found hers. Without speaking another word, he cupped her cheek, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

The kiss was over before she could begin to freak out, not sparing Mike, who left the two without another word, a thought. Neither Dean nor (y/n) spoke up, wide eyes staring at one another as both began to realise that they had just shared their first kiss. 

“What the fuck, Dean?” She gave him a push away, reached for her jacket and pushed past Dean before he could say something. For years she had waited for a kiss, needing to feel his lips pressed against hers, imagining feeling him close. But now, as it had happened because Dean had tried to prove something to himself and perhaps to her, she couldn’t find any enjoyment in it.

The cold night clashed against her warm face, she tried to blink her angry tears away as he called her name, catching up with (y/n) within seconds. Dean’s hand clamped down on her wrist, forcing (y/n) to a sudden halt.

“How dare you?” (Y/n) spat her words as she ripped her hand from Dean's grasp, wrapping her arms around her middle as if she were hugging herself. There was something swimming in his pupils, something that tightened her throat, that made her mouth feel dry. 

“Why are you so angry?” A scoff clawed through her, a sound so angry that Dean was close to taking a step away from her, close to flinching. For a few moments, all they did was stare at one another, eyes not daring to break contact, even as her tears resurfaced, blurring (y/n)’s vision. 

“For years I wait for you to kiss me. For years I had to watch you chat up some women who weren't me. And then you kiss me to prove some fucked up point? You kiss me to push away a man who showed some form of interest in me. And for what? For what Dean?” Her words worked like a slap, forcing him to quiet down. (Y/n) turned from him again, she began walking, took about five steps before she came to another halt. “I don’t want to see you again for a while, you can work the case on your own.” 

And for the first time since knowing Dean, she hoped that he’d chase her, that he’d force her to give in. But he didn’t, all he did was stare at her, and watch her leave. 

……

I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me

“(Y/n)?” Dean’s voice echoed through the evening, forcing her eyes from her book. It had been days since they had returned from their last hunt, forced to share an uncomfortable, quiet drive home. Ever since they had returned, they hadn’t spoken, (y/n) had kept her distance, and Dean had somehow disappeared, no longer crossing paths with her. “Can I come in?”

The hum leaving her urged Dean to step into her room. Their eyes were drawn to one another like magnets, leaving her trembling as she closed her book. Slowly Dean walked towards (y/n), sitting down next to her to pull her against his chest before she could pull away. 

“I have been stupid, so fucking stupid. Ever since I met you, I knew that I needed you, wanted you, but fuck, I knew that it was a dangerous game, and losing you was too high of a price. Seeing you with that guy did something to me, I don’t even know what. I shouldn’t have kissed you, at least not like that.” She shuffled around in Dean’s grasp, cheek no longer pressed to his chest, though eyes now fully directed at his face. “I wanted to give you time, but staying away from you is something I can’t do, something I don’t want to do.” 

“I wish you would have kissed me sooner, or in some other situation. You had no right to act like that when you’re the one talking to other women no matter where we go, Dean.” The hum leaving him drew a sigh from (y/n). Wordlessly she placed her head back down on his chest, letting the seconds blur by as he got lost in his thoughts. 

“Can I have another chance to make things right?” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her eyes back towards his again. All she did was nod her head, watching him dip down to softly kiss her. No longer did she feel the same anger, no longer was she annoyed at him for treating her like that, no, she was now solemnly focused on the feeling of his lips moving against hers. 

Dean pulled her into his lap without breaking the kiss, leaving both to hiss as she ground her middle against his. Their hands did impatient work, tugging on one another’s shirts, exposing her bra-clad chest to his wandering eyes. He ripped her bra from her frame, tongue finding her left nipple as his hand worked on the other, high on the sounds wrecking through (y/n). 

“This is even better than I imagined.” She wanted to comment on the fact that he had seemingly imagined a situation like this, she wanted to tell Dean that she had been held hostage by the same thoughts, but she couldn’t. (Y/n) felt his hardening cock press against her core, urged on by her need for friction. “I can’t wait to fuck you, to show you how you’ll always be mine.”

“Forever.” The single word rolling off (y/n)’s tongue left Dean groaning, flipping them around to pull her trousers from her trembling legs, panties following. His darkening eyes wandered up and down her frame while he undressed, exposing his hard cock to her hungry eyes, leaving (y/n) breathless. 

Dean spoke no other warning as he buried his face between her thighs, lapping at her arousal-covered folds, desperate to taste her. Curses rumbled through the both of them while (y/n) was high on the feeling of Dean’s tongue pushing her closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of his thumb circling her pulsing bundle with just enough pressure to leave her gasping. Dean found himself addicted to her taste, to her sounds, to the way she trembled for him only. 

“This is better than heaven, fuck, I’ll do that daily from now on.” He murmured his words against her warm skin, leaving the spots trembling as he let his gaze flicker up to her pleasure-drunken features. One of her hands found his, interlacing their fingers to squeeze his hand, telling him she was all too close. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart, show me how good I’m making you feel.” (Y/n) came with a call of his name, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. Dean was close to reaching for his phone to film every passing second for him to watch whenever he’d be away from her. But the sight of her orgasm wrecking through her was enough to leave him frozen to the spot. 

“Dean,” (y/n) panted his name, slowly opening her eyes to stare at him. “I need you to fuck me, I can’t wait any longer.” 

Within seconds, he had them repositioned, with (y/n) back in his lap, holding onto his shoulders. He rolled a condom down his twitching cock while (y/n) caught her breath, preparing herself for another intense orgasm. Dean’s hands held her waist as she sunk down on him, foreheads pressed together to adjust, to grasp onto the sensation. 

“Oh god, Dean, you’re so big.” Her walls fluttered around him, trying to get used to his size, to the feeling of him stretching her. Dean’s raspy chuckles guided her on, urging her to move, to rock her hips against his. He supported her every movement, stabilising her as she rode him. Their sounds grew louder, more passionate as they took what they were aching for, clinging to one another like boats rocking ashore. 

He’d forever be her lighthouse, the guiding force she’d search for in times of need, while she was the boat sailing him home, allowing him to be the truest form of himself. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” Dean’s praises shot heat through her, forcing her fingernails into his shoulders to cling to him, trying not to pay the ache in her thighs too much of her attention. But Dean seemed to pick up on it, giving her a slight push away to force her down on the mattress. 

With their eyes holding contact he pushed back into her, groaning at the feeling. Dean fucked her as if the devil was chasing him, begging them to give in before he could get his grasp on the two lovers. Their moans ripped through them, telling them that they were close, oh so close. 

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock.” Her fingers blindly followed his command, circling her clit to push her over the edge. (Y/n) choked on Dean’s name as she came, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin to leave behind marks that wouldn’t fade for days. Dean gave it a few more thrusts before he gave in, letting go with a groan that made her clench around him once again. 

“I don’t think it’s ever been this intense for me.” (Y/n)’s confession left Dean chuckling, he parted from her to press a kiss to her lips, eyes searching hers for a second. He threw the condom away before he returned to her bed, wrapping (y/n) in his arms with his eyes glued to hers. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, it had never been like that for me as well.” 

 I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me