#they better fuck that old man SENSELESS

[claudiaeparvier]

ObSESSED with this shot

[cimmanonrowl]

Eat Your Young pt.2

Part One | Masterlist

Coming down from the high that Aaron introduced you to feels impossible at this point. Following your very first encounter after his arrival, there isn't a day that he didn't make you feel desired and pleasured. And what better way to have him sated than letting him fuck you senseless out of pure unadulterated jealousy?

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, oral fixation, oral (f) receiving, masturbation, cum play, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, daddy & sir kink, unprotected, rough sex, angry sex, jealous!aaron, size difference, belly bulging, dirty talk, powerplay: boss/employee dynamic, pure filth, pussy-eater, bearded aaron.

You weren’t sure what was waiting ahead when you accepted the job. 

For one, it was a blessing, given your old employers were moving out of state and you couldn’t go with them. They wanted to bring you, of course. They wanted you to come with them but you had to decline as you have plans of your own after you finish your studies. It was a hard decision to make. You were with the family for almost three years, they helped you through University so you don’t drown in student loans and debt, and the kids loved you as much as you loved them. Even without telling you, you could tell their parents felt bad you’re losing your only financial support at the moment.

That was when Jessica was sent to you like an angel in disguise.

She was an acquaintance; a close friend to your employers, so in a way you knew the woman and some bits of her life. You knew that she was taking care of her nephew, although occasionally; a young kid named Jack. You knew that she loved looking after him but her new promotion at work demanded more and more of her time, so she and her brother-in-law had to look for extra help. Apparently, Jack’s father was a very busy man, as you were told.

And that was when you became part of the Hotchners.

For them, you were heaven-sent.

“I’m fine, Jess…” you mumbled over the phone as you read the street sign quietly. You were almost there, almost, heaving a little as you dragged your suitcase behind you. “Of course, I’m nervous… you know how it is. I’m not very good with…”

“Kids?” you heard her breathy laughter at the other line, more teasing than incredulous.

You chuckled in return, shaking your head. “Fathers, actually. It’s different talking to women and knowing how exactly they want things to be done. Fathers aren’t like that. They expect— they just expect you to figure out everything.”

“Aaron isn’t like that,” she assured you, her voice kind. “You’ll see. He knows how he likes things and will tell you so. He’s a good man.”

Your heart hammered against your chest. He knows how he likes things. And he will tell you so. That’s supposed to be an assurance, right? So, why on Earth were you blushing?

Must be because of those damn pictures, a voice in your head whispered. Last night– maybe it was the nerves, or your plain curiosity after hearing many stories about the man that you let yourself get swayed by temptation. You were not one to research about your employers. A brief personal background was always provided by the agency to ensure that employees like you will be in safe hands, and it has always been enough. But last night, for some reason, you felt the need to know him.

In the past week you were negotiating with Jessica, you never met Mr. Hotchner. You thought it was weird and so reckless of him. He’s a federal agent. You expected him to be paranoid, careful at a fault. Why wouldn’t he insist on meeting firsthand the stranger who will take care of his son? The one he’ll let inside his home? It seemed like he didn’t care at all. All you knew was he was out on a case and wouldn’t be home at least for a couple more days. You don’t even know what this man looks like.

You met his son three days ago, though, and you already love the kid. Jack was a little shy at first, soft-spoken, but cheeky as he was polite. You wondered since then if he got that from his father. But you thought it was unlikely when you started digging information from the internet.

“So serious…” you whispered as you plucked the cherry from the stem, chewing slowly as you continued scrolling through the available pictures of him on the web. 

There were YouTube links that also popped out when you typed in his name. You knew he’s some kind of bigshot fed but it still shocked you when you realized Mr. Hotchner had to stand in front of the camera and make public announcements on the news. It was impossible not to notice that face. But the least you could say is he looks good. Then you had to stop yourself there and divert your attention to the flaws you could pinpoint.

He looks strict and scary. In every video you opened, there was a tight frown on his face. It looks like he barely smiles or doesn’t know how to, and that he’s always constipated. What a poor man. You could already imagine your days in their household getting shouted at for being clumsy.

“You’re here! Dad, she’s here! Dad! She’s here!” the familiar voice of a young boy cut through your thoughts. 

You stood still outside the closed gate of your new residence, peering over where a kid was running toward your direction, and an older man distractedly dribbling a basketball in a mini court. He was topless and sweaty. His arms strong, his muscles taut. And even from a distance, you could tell that he was watching you, too.

Then your eyes met and he smiled, warm and so kind.

At that moment you knew that this wouldn’t be bad after all.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It’s late— later than you realized and Aaron still wasn’t home after a long day in the office. You’ve learned not to worry too much as you’ve grown accustomed to his late nights. He always comes home to you and Jack. But every night, there was a part of you that couldn’t fully relax until you heard the sound of his key in the door.

The clock just struck half past 10 o’clock. Most of the lights were already dimmed and the house was filled with silence. Jack had just gone to bed. These past few days, you realized how things changed. It took you almost an hour to convince him to get off his iPad and stop the game he was playing with his friends, and another hour before he fell asleep reading you his book of choice for this week. Which explains why you’re still up at this hour.

The soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was the only sound that accompanied you as you moved through the living room, gathering up Jack’s scattered Lego blocks and soldier figurines. It was all over the place. You told him countless times to clean up his mess before eating dinner, but he just shrugged you off and told you he’d clean it up later. Hours passed by and he seemed to forget about his promise as he was already engrossed with the weird game he was playing on his iPad. 

Jack was growing fast. And as much as the thought put an ache in your heart, you knew this was also inevitable.

But the thing is, you have no idea how you should deal with these changes. You didn’t dare scold him, no– considering your growing relationship with his father. You didn’t want him to think that you were crossing the line of acting like his mother, or a replacement for her. So, you thought it was better you wait for Aaron to come home and bring up this issue instead.

Another deep sigh escaped your lips as you bent down to pick up another handful of Lego blocks. You’re ready to go to bed, already clad in your satin nightgown, a pale pink that clings to your curves; feeling soft and smooth against your skin. The thin straps would occasionally slip off your shoulders as you reach for more toys, and the hem would brush against your thighs as you move.

“Didn’t think you’d still be up…”

You froze at the voice, still bent over, before straightening up and turning toward the entryway just as Aaron stepped inside. 

His presence filled the space immediately. He’s still in his work clothes— a dark suit that looks a little rumpled from the long day, his tie loosened and his shirt collar open. His hair was slightly disheveled, and you noticed the tiredness in his eyes that he tried to hide as he closed the door behind.

For a moment, his eyes lingered on you, taking in the way the satin nightgown hugged your body, the fabric clinging to the curve of your hips, the way the hem fluttered around your thighs. There was a brief flicker of something in his gaze, appreciative, and scandalously lustful. You saw the slight tug at the corner of his lips behind his thick beard.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted.

Your heart did that familiar, annoying little skip when he languidly crossed the room and caged you in his arms. He sighed deeply, kissed your forehead then your lips, before resting his cheeks at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Rough day, Mr. Hotchner?” you wanted to tease him, but with his hot breath fanning over your neck, the coarse hair of his beard against your skin, your words came out breathless.

You heard him groan, his voice low and a little rough when he said, “You have no idea, baby. Why are you still up, anyway? Did Jack gave you a hard time?”

“He’s just growing, Aaron. That’s how it is.”

“So he did?” he concluded, “I’ll talk to him, baby. There’s just too much going on at work.”

You hummed and nodded, running your fingers through his hair, understanding and supporting him without needing any details. You’ve never pressed him for specifics about his work and you know that Aaron was carrying enough weight on his shoulders without you adding to it. But even so, there was something in his tone and the exhaustion in his face that made you hug him tighter.

“You’re home now,” you said softly, massaging his scalp, “You should sit down for a bit. I can make you something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Just then, you felt his teeth dug gently on the skin of your neck. “How about I eat you instead?”

“Aaron…” you couldn’t help but giggle, ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“Hmm?” 

“Not here.”

He let out a soft grunt. “You smell heavenly, baby. I want to fuck you.”

His voice was raspy, gruff from all the grueling hours he spent in the office. You squirmed and chuckled quietly as you felt his lips trailing wet kisses on your neck, the soft curve of your shoulders, and even your jaw. His thick beard tickling you with every little movement.

You let out a sigh, clamping your thighs as you felt the heat dampening your cotton underwear. “Not here, Aaron. I’ll finish- I’ll clean up this mess first.”

He didn’t seem to hear you. The rough pad of his calloused palm roamed and caressed every inch of your clothed body. His hands moved to the curve of your ass, the swell of your breast, kneading your tits roughly on his hands while rolling your now sensitive nipples in between his thick fingers.

“I missed you so much, angel…” he said in a whisper, “I can’t get enough of your little pussy. You make me so hard, feel that?”

He guided your hand to the obvious bulge in his pants. Although that idea thrilled you, your fingers trembled in embarrassment and anticipation. You glanced up at him with wide, innocent eyes, your breath caught in your throat, while he hissed as you softly cupped and pressed your palm on his restrained cock, moving your hand experimentally in circles.

“Fuck,” he grunted your name, you even saw a muscle twitch on his tight jaw. “Saw you innocently bent over when I stepped into that door. It’s almost like you’re begging someone to ruin your tight cunt, is that right, angel?”

His hand found the dampness in between your legs, already pressing his thumb on your aching clit, yet it was the crudeness of his words that made you whimper. “S-sir…”

“Use your big words, sweet girl.”

“Not s-someone, sir…” you admitted. “Just you. W-want you to use me.”

A satisfied smile played on his lips.

“I know, baby. Want me to fuck you with my big cock, don’t you? Always fucking ready to spread your legs for me, is that right?”

You nodded dumbly, blinking up at him. 

“Are you a whore?”

“N-no...” you said unsurely, “No, daddy. Not a w-whore.”

The dark look in his eyes brought you back to the memories of earlier in the morning. He gave you a small smile. “You’re daddy’s baby, I know, little girl.”

Like he always does, Aaron woke you up earlier with his face buried between your legs. He was lapping your dripping cunt like a madman, licking and sucking with his expert mouth. Two of his thick fingers were pushed deep inside you, making a lewd squelching sound as he nudged the sweet bundle of nerves inside. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably all you could do was moan and tug on Aaron’s hair. When he looked up to see your face, his beard was wet and a string of saliva was hanging from his lips and to your puffy folds.

You already came twice today. One from his mouth, as promised. And one from his big, leaking cock. He had your legs wide open, his hand pressed on the back of your thighs until you were folded almost in half, and rammed his big cock in and out of your weeping cunt with vigor. His eyes were focused on where you were both connected, watching in awe how you willingly swallow his thick cock in your body. He enjoyed watching the bulge appear in your stomach with every deep thrust.

He called you sweet names as he came inside you, flooding your womb with his warm cum. It took him all the self-control (and a message from Morgan) not to bend you again over the sink as he watched you walk to the bathroom, his release slowly dripping down your legs. And he wished you only knew how he wanted to push it back inside and keep his cock buried in your raw cunt for the rest of the day.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The Saturday sun beamed over the soccer field where kids are darting back and forth in a burst of energy. The sidelines were lined with parents and family members, all chatting and watching the game with varying degrees of attention. You were standing among them, your eyes following Jack as he weaved between the other kids, his face bright with determination. Every now and then, his laughter carries across the field, and you couldn’t help but smile as well.

Aaron was beside you, his arms crossed as he watched Jack with that focused intensity he always seemed to have when it comes to his son. You could tell that as much as they were both competitive, he was worried that some accidents may happen. 

“I’m going to check in with Jack for a minute,” Aaron informed you as he let go of your intertwined hand, nodding toward the bench where Jack was sitting during a break. “Be right back.”

You nodded and watched in silence as Aaron strode across the field toward Jack, the sun catching in his dark hair. You took a deep breath, relaxing a little now that you were alone for a moment. It feels good to be outside, to be with Aaron, but you hate the weird glances some mothers were throwing at you. As if you were doing something illegal.

Just as you were about to take a seat on one of the folding chairs, a familiar man approached you from the side, his expression friendly. You recognized him as one of the other parents and father of one of Jack’s friends at school, though you don’t recall his name right away. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and a warm, easygoing smile.

“Hey there,” he said with a chuckle, gesturing toward the field. “Quite a game, huh?”

You smiled back, letting out a small laugh. “Tell me about it. My bones could never. I’m exhausted just watching them.”

The man laughed, then glanced over at the field before turning his attention back to you. “I’m Tom, by the way,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ve seen you around a few times… and my son told me last night he and Jack partnered for the bake sale activity at school.”

You shook his hand. “I think I recall Jack telling me about that bake sale. Is Jake your son?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tom replied, nodding fast and chuckling. “I thought you’d think I’m just making up excuses to come up to a pretty woman and start chatting with her—”

“Pretty woman?” you smiled at the compliment, glancing up at him.

“Well, yeah. Anyway…” Tom grinned shyly, clearly pleased. “Yeah, my son was crazy about beating the other boys or something like that. Tell you honestly, I have no idea what to bring. I’m useless in the kitchen, but I don’t want to be that guy who just shows up with store-bought stuff, you know?”

You laughed softly, nodding in understanding. “I do get it. But it’s a good thing they can choose a partner. If you want, I could help you out. I make a pretty mean batch of cookies.”

Tom’s face lit up with genuine gratitude. “Really? That would be amazing. I mean, only if you have time to accommodate— I don’t want to impose.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” you waved off his concern. “I like baking, plus I can invite Jake to come over so I have another little assistant.”

“Or me?” The man teased. “Just kidding. That would be incredible. You just saved me from embarrassment. The old ladies at school… they’re very, you know.”

The sound of your laughter tangled in the air. But as the laughter fades, you felt a subtle shift in the air. You unconsciously wandered your eyes around and realized Aaron was standing just a few feet away, his eyes trained on you and Tom, his expression intense. His strong arms were crossed, and there was a tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering Aaron a small smile as he stepped closer. “Everything okay with Jack?”

Aaron nodded, though his eyes briefly flickered over to Tom, taking in the easy conversation you’ve been having. “He’s fine,” Aaron replied, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something sharper, something controlled. “Just needed a little pep talk.”

Tom, the poor man oblivious to the tension, smiled at Aaron and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom. We were just talking about the kids’ upcoming school bake sale.”

Aaron shook his hand, but there was a slight stiffness to the gesture. “Aaron Hotchner. Jack’s father.”

Tom nodded, then focused back on you. “Thanks again for the offer. If it’s alright, I was thinking— maybe I should grab your number? You know, just so we can coordinate for the bake sale and all that. Would make it easier to figure out what to bring.”

He was just being friendly and practical, that’s what you know. But the suggestion lingered in the air awkwardly. You could feel Aaron tense beside you, the shift in his posture subtle but unmistakable. With hesitation, you glanced at Aaron out of the corner of your eye. His expression has hardened, his jaw clenched just enough to be noticeable, and there was a flash of something dangerous in his eyes—something possessive, territorial even. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Aaron stepped in, his voice low and edged with barely restrained anger. “If you need anything, you can go through me.”

Tom blinked, clearly caught off guard. He forced out a chuckle, trying to brush off the tension with a good-natured grin. “I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Just thought it’d be easier—”

“You don’t need her number for that.”

You swallowed hard, feeling everyone’s attention on the growing commotion. Aaron’s eyes were still fixed on Tom, his stance rigid, his body language screaming of a barely controlled fury. This wasn’t just about the number.

Tom raised his hands slightly, clearly trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, no problem,” he said, though there was a hint of confusion in his eyes as he glanced between you and Aaron. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

You forced a tight smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Tom. Maybe we can let the kids decide and start there.”

Tom nodded again. “Yeah, sure. I’ll catch you both around.” He gave a quick wave before turning and walking back toward the crowd of parents, his pace a bit quicker than before.

As soon as Tom was out of earshot, the silence between you and Aaron felt heavy. You could feel the heat of Aaron’s anger, his jaw still clenched as he silently watched Tom disappear into the distance.

You glanced up at Aaron, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “What was that about?”

“What?” Aaron finally tore his gaze away from Tom, turning to face you. There was a storm in his eyes, it made your breath catch. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he admitted, his voice rougher than before. Then he mumbled, “Or him having your number. Why would he have your fucking number for? Bake sale and all that, that fucking idiot.”

You grimaced at his admission, of how easily he admitted what he felt. You’ve never seen Aaron like this before— so openly protective, so possessive— and it stirred something deep inside you that was too intense to put a name on.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “He was just being friendly, Aaron. It was harmless.”

“Maybe to you,” His voice was still tensed as he retorted. “But I didn’t trust him. And I don’t like the idea of other men thinking they can just… move in like that.”

You bit back a smile, a little amused by his jealousy.

“We were talking about bake sales, not making any plans to run off together,” you nudged his arm with your elbow teasingly.

Aaron took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he stared down at you. “Oh, so you can joke. Do you think this is funny?”

“What? Of course no–”

“Jack will be out on a sleepover,” he leaned closer to your ear just to whisper, “We’ll fucking talk later, hm? Save your explanations ‘cause I’ll fuck you like a whore.”

Your breath staggered as you pressed your lips shut. You knew by then that it was going to be a long, long night.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang as you and Aaron stumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. His big, calloused hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers digging into your skin as your mouths crashed together in a rough, desperate kiss.

Everything felt hazy, like you were moving through a dream, but there was nothing gentle about the way you were kissing him, or the way his hands were gripping you. It felt like he couldn’t get close enough. It was frantic, dirty, almost reckless, as if both of you were on the verge of losing control and neither of you cared.

You barely noticed the door swing shut behind you as Aaron pushed you roughly up against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through your body, but the only thing you could focus on was him— his scent, his warmth, the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his strong body felt pressed up against you.

“Aaron…” you managed to gasp out between kisses, your voice breathless. You could barely think, your mind clouded with desire, but his name slipped from your lips like a plea, a litany. “D-daddy... slow- slow... down...”

His hands were everywhere— on your waist, your hips, sliding down to the curve of your thighs as he gripped you tightly, pressing his bulge against your needy cunt. You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by another fierce kiss as his body pinned you harder against the wall, pressing you there as if you might disappear if he let go.

“I’m s-sorry… D-daddy, please…”

“Please what?” he groaned against your mouth, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then to your neck, the coarse hair on his chin scraping against your skin as he kissed a heated path down your throat. “Now you’re sorry? Bet you fucking liked the attention earlier. Thought you aren’t a whore?”

“No. I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry. I’m not—”

His rough hands slid up your sides, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it up and over your head with a quick, impatient movement. The cool air hit your skin, but it was immediately replaced by the warmth of his touch as his hands moved over your bare skin, his fingers digging into your flesh like he wanted his mark so deeply ingrained in your skin and your whole being.

“Feels like you’re forgetting who you belong to.”

You shook you head, moaning as you felt his hand travel closer to your heat. “No, no. I belong to you, sir. Only you. I’m so sorry, daddy.”

“Are you?” he barked a taunting laugh. “And why do you belong to me then, little girl? Why does this pussy belong to me?”

“Because… b-because you take care of m-me, daddy.”

“I fucking do, don’t I?” he remarked, tracing soft circles on your clit through the rough fabric of your jeans. “And I’m so fucking good to you. So why are you fucking ungrateful, angel? Batting your eyelashes and giggling with other men like a cheap whore on the streets?”

You felt like crying. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes, your heart hammering painfully against your chest. You messed up and now he’s mad. But you don’t like the words coming out of his mouth. You only want to be daddy’s good girl.

“I’m s-sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, I-I promise.”

“No, baby. I bet you it won’t,” he pulled back for a second, his eyes dark and filled with something primal, his chest rising and falling with the force of his ragged breaths. “I’ll fuck you until your little belly’s round with my cum and you’re pregnant with my child. I’ll knock you up so every man will know whose cock split your tight cunt open. You like that, little girl? You want to be a good whore for daddy?”

You nodded and grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him back down to you, crashing your lips together again as the two of you stumbled further into the room, barely able to focus on anything but each other. Your legs hit the edge of the couch, and before you know it, Aaron was already manspreading in front of you, while you knelt in front of him, your hands laid on your lap.

“Atta girl, look at you,” you keened at the praise, biting on your lower lip as you waited patiently for him to remove his shirt and finish unbuckling his belt.

“Can- can I suck your cock, s-sir?” you said weakly. “Please?”

Aaron hissed as his cock sprang free, slapping the base of his soft stomach. His cock was already hard and leaking, the tip shiny with beads of precum. Your mouth watered at the sight. But still, you waited for his permission, glancing up at him innocently, patiently.

He leaned on the couch and pumped his length slowly, an amused smirk on his lips. “Remove your pants.”

You whimpered and did what he told you. That wasn’t the permission you were waiting for but still you obliged eagerly. Your eyes focused on his hand slowly fisting his hardening cock before glancing up and meeting his eyes. Aaron let out a deep breath as he took in your naked body, your tits, your now swollen lips, and even your thighs that you were subtly rubbing to create some friction.

“Play with your tits, baby,” he said gruffly, “Put on a show for me like a good girl. Go on.”

There was something possessive in his gaze, a wildness that you’d never seen in him before, but it sent a thrill directly through your wet core. You played with your tits, kneaded the soft mound, and pinched your nipples making you whimper pathetically.

Aaron pumped his cock a little faster, his hungry eyes following your movements. “Spread your legs, want to see that pussy of yours.”

It felt humiliating, to scamper on your knees to follow his orders. But still you did. Because the moment you opened your legs for him, Aaron let out a loud growl and gripped his cock tightly on his fist, as if he was trying not to cum just by the sight of your wet cunt. You felt happy with his reaction.

With trembling fingers, you opened your puffy folds to show him how much you desired to be fucked, your clit swollen, your cunt desperately fluttering and clenching on nothing.

“Is that all for me?”

You nodded, your body tingling with pleasure and pride.

“D-daddy…” you sounded meek, all up for the taking. “Want you, p-please. Sir, please? Please?”

You can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rises and falls with each ragged breath as he thumbed the leaking tip of his big and veiny cock. In a swift movement, he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you harder, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you sigh in relief.

“Ride my cock then. Show me how much you want it.”

There was hunger in him that matched your own. The sound of your highpitched whining and Aaron’s deep grunt weaved through the air. You sank down his big cock, your cunt clenching to accommodate his girth. Aaron was so big you don’t think it’s possible to get used to it, the burn of the stretch was there, but it was heady and intoxicating.

“Aaron,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with need as your fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him closer, needing more, needing him. The intensity was overwhelming, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. “D-daddy, help. Help, please.”

“Pathetic,” he growled against your lips. With one sharp thrust, he plunged the rest of his cock into your raw cunt.

“T-thank you, sir…” you mewled at the feeling, grounding your hips in slow circles. “Good- feels g-good…”

His lips trailed back down your neck, your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His beard scratched your skin. Every touch, every kiss, feels like fire, igniting something primal deep inside of you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Does it, angel? Who’s making you feel good right now?”

You arched your back, pressing into him. “Y-you, sir. J-just you...”

A harsh slap landed at the side of your thigh. 

“Louder!”

“You, d-daddy! Only y-you. OH MY GOD, AARON!” you screamed, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as Aaron plowed his cock so deep into your frail body. “You’re making me feel g-good. You fuck me so well, daddy! I love your cock, you own me, you ow-”

You heard a low growl reverberate through his heaving chest. He propped his knees at the edge of the couch for better leverage. You felt his cock pulsating deep inside you, his thighs strong beneath your trembling legs. Your vision was blurry with unshed tears and the force of Aaron’s cock ramming inside you. The noise leaving his open lips was dirty, primal, so filthy all you could do was take it.

You let him ruin you.

Let him use you to his heart content.

Like that’s all you’re worth for.

“I’ll fuck my baby inside of you, little girl, ‘s that what you want?” he panted beneath you, his hips staggering a little. “I’ll make you all round and pretty. Everyone will know whose whore you a-are…”

Yes, yes, yes. You couldn’t bring yourself to say. You just whimpered, your voice raw and absolutely fucked out. You just let yourself feel how his cock assaulted your tight, little cunt. There was a familiar coil in your stomach, and then the familiar squelching sound.

“I-I’m s-” you squealed loudly, high-pitched and frantic. “I-I’m coming, ‘m c-coming, daddy, ple-”

Aaron grunted and plunged his cock on a particularly deep thrust, feeling the tip nestle at the sweet bundle of sensitive nerves that made you roll your eyes. You felt Aaron’s cock slide out of your used pussy, a gush of clear release dampening Aaron’s belly and the floor below.

“F-fuck! Look at that…”

“Oh- oh my go-” you bit your lower lip in overstimulation, yet you didn’t do anything to protest when he thrust his thick cock inside again. “Too much… t-too much, sen-sensitive. D-daddy! P-please, no more!”

His cock slid out the second time you squirted. Another gush of release dampened the carpet below. The force was too overwhelming your knees buckled, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You heard Aaron’s pleasured grunt as you clenched even tighter around his cock, your velvety walls hugging his girth like it was molded to be there.

“S-stop, d-daddy! S-stop…”

He scarcely heard you. You could feel every inch of him, the way his body moves against yours, the heat of his skin, the sweat, the strength in his hands as they explore every part of you. He groped you like you were nothing but a fucktoy— one that he will discard the moment he finally got his release.

“See this, little girl?” he grabbed your neck and forced you to look at your belly. You whined at the faint sight of his cock bulging against your skin. “That’s h-how deep I am, you feel that? That’s how well you take me. G-good girl, baby.”

You nodded. “S-so deep, d-daddy. You make me feel s-so good…”

“I’m so close…” you heard him whisper.

You traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the tension beneath his skin as his breath hitched against your neck. With the rest of your energy left, you lifted yourself and met his desperate thrust. The sound was lewd, disgusting– so wet and filthy.

The world outside disappeared—there was no sound, no movement, no thoughts. Just Aaron. Just him and his big, girthy cock, and his desperate thrust. Beyond the heat of his body against yours, the endless ropes of warm cum flooded your fertile womb. You only closed your eyes and let him take you. Take everything he wants from you.

“It’s coming out of your pretty cunt, baby. Look, you’re so full of my cum…” Aaron said in awe a moment later. He got you lying on your back on the couch, your legs wide open, while he knelt in front of you. He prodded your puffy folds with wide, hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re so messy, angel.”

He licked the cum that dripped out of you. Your cunt felt raw and sore. Too used. So you whimpered as a protest. You’re too sensitive. Too sated. Too much. Too much. Too much–

Aaron smiled smugly when he saw the drunk look on your face.

“Give me one more, angel?”

Happy 600-something, everyone! I know this is long overdue but it's better late than later, right? Anyway, hope everyone's well and healthy (I'm sick right now so don't be like me!) Drink a lot of water and eat well. As always, I appreciate every like, replies, reblogs- everything. Thank you so much for the support. I love you all. See you on the next ones! xx

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[cheolhub]

MEANT TO BE YOURS — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. lying to your boyfriend about being sexually experienced has you stressed beyond belief. it’s a good thing your roommate— aka your best friend— is always there to help you out of every sticky situation.

wc. 7.2k+

warnings. [PLEASE READ THESE!] slight yandere themes (tame obsession, possessiveness, mentions of k1lling reader’s bf, etc.), corruption kink, virginity loss, f. masturbation, cheating (don’t do this), perv!wonu, NEEDY, DESPERATE dom!wonwoo, fingering, heavy praise, pet names (a lot ^^), very light degradation, so much dirty talk (literal filth), unprotected sex, size kink (if u blink, u miss it), kinda angsty ending (oops) — MINORS DNI 18+

note. ok so it’s finally here :p a few things— happy birthday wonwoo, my beloved <3 thank u keir @jeonghantis for reading this over for me, always reassuring me and being my literal rock. i luv u so so much ^^ lastly, this contains cheating which i do NOT condone, nor do i want to glamorize it. it’s simply for the sake of the plot. oj that’s all <3 i worked hard so pls enjoy it >< (if u dont, u should just lie to me anyway)

you were perfect. so sweet and so innocent. you were a doll in the eyes of wonwoo, with skin so smooth against his calloused hands and a smile so perfect, he can’t help but melt at the sight of it. 

his adoration for you was obviously in moderation, he’s a sensible man after all. it’s not like he’d stand over you while you sleep and watch the way your barely-clothed chest rises up and falls down so enticingly or fuck his fist and imagine it’s your tight-virgin cunt milking him for all he’s worth or steal a pair of lace panties and absolutely ruin them. you’re his best friend not to mention his roommate. he can’t do things like that— it’s wrong. 

so why does it feel so fucking good to imagine how sweet your moans would sound while he fucks you senseless, “wonwoo! wonwoo!”

wonwoo maintains his cool even in the most unfavorable moments. when you leave your shared bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around your chest, when you walk around in silky night shorts, when you press your tits flush against him every time you give him a hug— it’s too much sometimes. 

he can't be angry, though, it’s not like you know any better. 

just like how you don't know how loud you’re being when you have one dainty little finger shoved inside your sopping pussy. he watches through the tiny crack of your door with his bottom lip lodged between his teeth, just slight of drawing blood. he sees how your eyes are screwed shut and your back is arched as you inconsistently try to fuck a single finger in and out of you. 

the room is filled with desperate huffs and moans, bouncing between the four walls of his old gaming room; it all rushes straight to wonwoo’s cock. 

you sound so needy and he can tell you’re growing frustrated at the lack of results. you’re craving release, he can tell– 

and he wants to help you. so bad.

he has to, right? that’s his job as a dutiful best friend— taking care of his pretty girl. plus, it’s not like he’s really doing anything wrong. he likes to think he’s just doing you a huge favor. 

he steps away from the door before knocking quietly, hearing the halt in moans and jostling of the white bedsheets he’s memorized the scent of. he stifles a laugh, imagining how hot your face must be knowing that you’re easily flustered. 

“just a second!” you pant and he’s so caught up in thought that he almost misses your soft voice, “okay…you can come in.” it’s as if you’re embarrassed, but you have no reason to be. it’s just him, your roommate. your best friend. your wonwoo. 

he finds that he was right. as soon as he walked in, he noticed your embarrassed face and he could almost feel the heat radiating from your body.

“won?”

his cock throbs in his loose plaid pajama pants at the name you had given him ages ago. “Y/N, i-i just wanted to check on you… heard noises when i was passing by your room,” 

“oh…” you mumble, gripping the comforter covering your body. you’re sheepish, shrugging at his concern. “thought you were out with gyu.” 

your words are barely audible. you’re too humiliated to tell him what you were doing and, not to mention, how you were probably, most likely doing it incorrectly. 

“nah,” he shakes his head, reverting the conversation back to the massive elephant in the room. “anything on your mind?” he tries, moving to sit on the bed next to you.

you sigh, cracking the unfazed facade you wore. tears form on your lash line; you’re beyond embarrassed. mortified, if you will. this is probably the worst possible thing to happen in all your years of living. 

no, this is the worst thing to happen to you in all your years of living– nothing will ever beat you getting caught masturbating incorrectly by your best friend. 

“wonwoo…” you sniffle and he immediately stiffens at the unanticipated sound. “i just… my… boyfriend wants to start doing stuff with me and i lied ‘n told him that i’ve done stuff before, but i haven’t ‘n—“

“hey…breathe, Y/N,” he shushes, reaching over to wipe the tears from your eyes. as much as he’s concerned with your feelings, he can’t help but pause—boyfriend? since when did you have a fucking boyfriend? he knew you were going on dates and meeting guys, and of course he didn’t like it, but he thought they were flings that would eventually fizzle out. why wasn’t he aware of this dick? his chest bubbles with newfound jealousy and discontent. without a doubt, he’d kill the first ill-mannered fucker he saw put his hands on you. 

however, he plays dumb to hide the fact. “what type of stuff are we talking about?” 

you bite back a whine, a small pout forming on your face, “you know what stuff, won, don’t make me say it.” 

he chuckles, airily, shaking his head. yes, of course he knows, but he wants to hear you say it. wants to hear you say filthy things with your innocent voice that he simply can’t get enough of. “i don’t know what you’re going on about. for all i know, we could be talking about drugs,” 

you let out a giggle, playfully smacking his shoulder. “no!” you tell him and he gives you an expectant look. one that screams tell me.

your laughter dies down and you fall silent for a few seconds. you inhale sharply, “wonwoo… he… he wants to have sex with me,” you mutter, completely catching him off guard. “and i lied about having experience… i’ve never even touched myself,” you say unwarranted, feeling your cheeks heat up in mortification once again. you hide your face in your hands after exposing yourself to your more-mature, experienced best friend. “god, i’m such a loser,”

“hey, don’t say that. there’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced. none of that’s important if you love someone.” the same way he loves you. “plus, a lot of guys like inexperienced girls.” he murmurs, mostly speaking for himself, though the only inexperienced girl– girl, in general– he likes is you. 

a sigh escapes your lips at his words, “but… i don’t wanna be inexperienced. i wanna know what i’m doing and how to do it right…i wish i was more like you,” you frown, removing your hands to look at him, confusion prevalent on his face. “you seem like you’re so good at everything when it comes to… that…kinda stuff…”

his throat dries, “h-how would you even know that?”

“well, i mean…you’re not exactly the quietest, wonwoo,” 

wonwoo is shocked, honestly. he knew he had a handful of hookups and one night stands, but he never thought you would’ve known that. 

besides, he always imagined them to be you riding him, crying for him. as much as he loves getting his dick wet, he would never see another girl again if it meant even one chance with you. 

it's a stretch. a big one, but if he could give you the earth, he would– in a single heartbeat with no hesitation whatsoever. “well… then do you want me to maybe… show you? what it’s like…? give you a good first experience?”

your body freezes and your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. sure, you’ve always found your best friend attractive, but you figured that couldn’t be helped. you knew you never had a chance, not when he had an endless line of girls who would do anything for just one night with him. 

wonwoo is the definition of womanizer, he always has been. for as long as you could remember, girls would throw themselves at him and praise him like he was some kind of god. in some ways, you thought he was.

in all fairness, he was gorgeous and tall and strong. a catch, as some girls would say. he smelled good, too. so good it makes your head spin and your body flood with heat. and he had that rare smile– the one he’d only show the ones he loved– and it was blindingly beautiful. it was a smile that made you feel blessed. a smile that made you feel lucky because you were always on the receiving end– wonwoo always smiled at you.

he never pursued as many girls as you thought he would have. you always figured that’s what guys liked– all of the girls fawning over them– but wonwoo was so different. he didn’t like the attention that much, but, unfortunately for him, that’s what comes with being as handsome as he is. 

you knew he was out of your league. he was everything a girl would want and what were you in a sea of girls? a sea of girls with loads of experience and confidence, for that matter. 

you were just lucky to have him in your life because he really was such a good friend. he’s always been so protective of you since he met you all those years ago through a mandatory math tutoring session. nothing could ruin the image you have of him– not even the ear-splitting moans of the girls he fucks. you want nothing but for him to be your friend forever. 

and maybe you have imagined… once or twice… what it would be like to be one of the obnoxiously loud girls in his bed, but that didn’t mean you wanted it… did it?

you try to play it off to see if he was pulling another one of his typical stunts on you. “wonwoo, this isn’t funny—“

“i‘m being serious,” he says so earnestly, leaning into you, the proximity between the two of you quickly closing. you feel like you should pull back, tell him to stop, kick him out— anything— but you just can’t. “lemme help you, sweetheart… i‘ll show you how to feel good,” his minty breath fans over your face.

your body twitches, feeling a soft pulse in your lower region when the familiar pet name falls from his lips. your pace of breath quickens along with your heartbeat. 

“is…isn’t this wrong?” you ask. you want to scold your brain for wanting to do this with your best friend whom you live with. not to mention the fact that you also have a boyfriend.

yes, you think, this is totally and completely wrong. 

he shakes his head, “it’s not, promise, ‘m just helping a friend out… only if you’ll let me,” his voice hushes to a whisper as his hand pulls the comforter off your body, a large hand moving to take a hold of your waist, the other on your bare thigh extremely close to the thin pink fabric of your absolutely-soiled panties. 

you’re left panting at the little contact, skin itching for even more. “wonwoo…” you whisper and it’s absolutely desperate. “wonwoo, w-what will i tell him?”

he feels his blood boil and he has to keep from snapping at the mere mention of that son of a bitch. he doesn’t even know him and, even still, he wants to bash his head in. “you don’t have to tell him anything,” he responds to you sweetly despite how angry and desperate he is. 

you won’t have to do a thing. he’ll take care of everything for you, especially that boyfriend of yours.

you contemplate your options, but it’s getting harder to have a coherent thought with his warm hand being so incredibly close to your needy pussy. 

wonwoo is just helping you, he even said it himself. if anything, he’s getting you out of the sticky situation you made for yourself. 

and so you nod your head, whimpering out the words. “okay wonwoo… please help me,”

unbeknownst to you, wonwoo was hoping you’d say that. hoping you’d let him help you stretch you out (not for your boyfriend, but for him). help you take his cock. help you cum all over him and corrupt your pretty body. he’ll help you leave your boyfriend and realize that wonwoo is all you’ll need. all you’ll want. all you’ll know. he’ll help you, his best friend, his pretty girl, his fucking dream. 

your words trigger something in his brain and it’s all he needs before closing the gap between the two of you. the way he practically pounces on you and slots your lips together, it’s similar to a predator going after its prey.

it’s apparent you’re not as skilled as him as your lips struggle to keep up, whimpering at how rough he was being. you open your mouth a little bit to tell him to slow down, but instead, he pushes his tongue inside and explores the warmth and wetness of your mouth. 

and he can’t slow down. he can usually keep his composure and control himself, but you don’t even know how long he’s been waiting for this moment. if only you knew the perverted things your best friend had done without your knowledge, there’s no way you’d let him anywhere near you. he can’t stop, tongue inspecting every inch of your mouth until he feels your hands press flat against his chest in an attempt to push him away.

your swollen lips turn into a pout staring into his eyes filled with hunger and desire. “won,” you say, a lilt to your angelic voice. fuck, is all wonwoo can think as he finally realizes how hard and leaky his cock is after all this time. “can’t keep up…”

he almost feels bad, but every time he feels remorse it’s overshadowed by the burning desire to hear you, feel you, see you cum… just for him, not your silly little boyfriend, that fucking asshole. he needs you to be his. 

“‘m sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, hands inching up your upper thigh. “i‘ll slow down, yeah?” his voice drips with desperation and, god, you feel your pussy flooding with more of your warm arousal. 

you nod, leaning into him again, pressing a kiss against his lips. his lips are soft as they mold into yours, nothing like what you’re used to. you couldn’t even compare wonwoo’s lips to anything– not even your boyfriend. 

you feel heat course your veins. everything is so hot, the room feels like it’s on fire. when did it get so hot? you want to hide in his neck, in your pillow, in something, but wonwoo gives you no room to be shy. 

the intrusive thoughts are cut short when you feel his warm hand slide into your panties, a deep gasp escaping your lips. his fingers quickly find your hardened clit, untouched and desperate for attention. the initial touch has shockwaves jolting through your body and you swear you won’t be able to survive anything more than that. 

you part your lips from him as his two fingers rub swift circles into your clit, timid whines and moans erupting from your chest and your eyes practically taped shut as you feel his burning gaze on your face. it’s when your hips unintentionally begin to move, grinding into his hand, softly moaning his name out, “wonwoo!” that he loses it. 

“fuck,” he mutters, removing his hand and watching your face of pleasure turn into complete shock. he ignores your whiny protests, gently pushing you to lay on your back. “shhh, baby, trust me. gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, don’t you worry.”

his hands peel the panties off you, rolling them off your legs and inspecting them– they’re new. you don’t need to know that he knows, though. especially since he is the reason you needed to get more.

nonetheless, he tosses them to the side. you’re sure if your judgment wasn’t clouded by the new overwhelming craving you have for pleasure, your body would burn in humiliation due to being exposed to your best friend. the same best friend who’s always been there for you and seen you at your very worst, yet continues to be there for you when you need him. 

with hearts in his eyes, he stares at your glistening cunt, “jesus christ,” he murmurs, “prettiest fucking pussy in the world, might have to keep you all to myself.” he knows the words are going through one ear and out the other, but the way you moan and arch your back for a single touch eggs him on.

“wonwoo,” you whimper softly. 

“yes, baby, what do you need?” he knows exactly what you need. you need him to rub your clit, press his fingers into your tight pussy and open you up, and you especially need him to tell you how well you’re doing– he fucking knows, but he needs to hear you say it. he needs your pretty little mouth to tell him. 

you pant, pussy getting wetter by the second solely off the pet names and wonwoo’s voice alone. “need you to help me like you promised… please help me…”

and he can’t resist when you sound so needy. he’s 99% sure he could cum untouched just at the sight of you under him with tears in your eyes while you beg for him to touch you. you’re so perfect, so so perfect and he doesn't understand how no one has taken you away from him yet. 

“you want my fingers, sweetheart? want me to help you open up this pretty cunt for my cock?” he asks hotly, leaning in closer to your body. 

you gasp at his words, your leaky hole clenching around nothing. “god, yes, yes, wonwoo, yes,” you nod your head vigorously, shyness fleeing your body as you're taken over by pure need. “please gimme your fingers.”

he smirks at your words and his dick twitches at the request. he knows this moment will replay in his head during every second of the day till he can have you like this again. 

“good girl,” he whispers, pressing a peck to your swollen lips and keens when you chase him for another with a whimper. “brace yourself for me… might sting a little, but it’ll feel really good after a while. tell me if you need me to stop, hmm?” 

you nod your head, stomach swirling with endless amounts of anticipation. the calloused pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing into it once more. you figure it’s to distract you from the feeling of his lengthy digit pressing into your hole.

a whine erupts from your throat at the tiny stretch that stings throughout your body. you take a deep breath, trying to relax as wonwoo pushes the finger in and out at a slow and steady pace. 

“doing so well for me, pretty. promise it’ll feel good when you get used to it,” he reassures with a tight-lipped smile as if he’s getting ready to burst at any given moment. 

that’s probably because he is. watching your tight pussy swallow his finger and wrap so nicely around him has him reeling. he thinks about what it’d be like to watch his cock disappear inside of you, for your velvet walls to wrap around him like you were made just for his cock. 

luckily, the sting fades away sooner than you thought it would, just as wonwoo had promised. your tiny whimpers of pain were soon replaced by pleasured moans, and he can tell that you’re ready for more of his fingers. 

he pulls out his middle finger to bring two of them together. you gasp in surprise feeling the pads of his two fingers circle at your entrance before they push their way inside of you. 

it hurts more than the first finger, you have to admit, but you take him in easily with the amount of arousal that pools out of your pussy. you pant, whines dying on your tongue as you feel the burning stretch. you don’t tell him to stop, though, not like you’d want to. 

wonwoo’s close to losing it. he can feel the way you clench around his fingers, almost like you're trying to push him out but suck him in at the same time. you’re so fucking tight and he thinks he must be in heaven. you’re the last thing he deserves, yet here you are, swallowing his big fingers in your pretty, virgin cunt. 

he gradually spreads his fingers, opening you up and the experimental move has you moaning. “that feel alright?” he asks almost breathlessly. 

you give him a broken nod, “feels weird… b-but good.” you attempt to inform. 

you’re sheepish for a few minutes as he’s slowly scissoring his fingers inside of you, but the question comes out before your hazy mind can fully comprehend. “c-can you try three?” it comes out a bit slurred and timid, but wonwoo understands. he completely understands. 

he wants, so badly, to fuck you stupid. to the point where you don’t know how to speak. he wants to call you his greedy slut for wanting more even though it makes him see red. he opts out, though, not wanting your first time to be tainted with degrading words because he knows you’re  good. a good girl just for him. no one else. 

“oh, baby,” he coos, body filling with even more need. he presses his ring finger inside of you and basking in your cry all the while purring, “you’re doing so fucking well for me.”

you involuntarily clench at his words, back slightly arching off the bed as you moan. “wonwoo.”

he lets out a guttural moan at the sound of his name on your tongue. it’s the way he’s heard it in his dreams, the dreams where he’s ruining you for everyone else. 

wonwoo knows he’s crazy, trust, he knows. he understands the way he feels about you is abnormal, but fuck, right now? he feels absolutely, postively insane. 

“god, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispers, his mind slowly drifting. “so fucking pretty taking my fingers like this, taking ‘em like a champ.”

he thrusts his fingers into you with ease, stretching you effectively while being sure to rub at your sweet spot. he watches them disappear and reappear at your opening while also stealing glances at your scrunched up face. you’re such an angel.

after a while, the burning sting leaves and you’re left with an immense pleasure. you didn’t think it would get any better, but there’s an unfamiliar pressure building in your tummy and you feel the need to clamp down on his digits. it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and you swear you’re on the brink of pure ecstasy. 

“wonwoo… wonwoo,” you gasp, hand blindly searching for his wrist as your eyes screw closed. “f-feels…weird… fuck! wonwoo!”

and wonwoo jus can’t. he can’t let you cum like this for the first time, it would be a crime. when you cum for the first time, he needs it to be on his cock.

he hates himself for doing so, but his movements stop. you gasp loudly, “no, no, no!” you cry out, tears forming in your eyes. you were so close, but it was unfairly taken away from you in a matter of seconds. “no, no, please keep going, please!”

“i want your first time to be on my cock, sweetheart, want you to remember it that way.” he says with his voice low. so low you can hear the beautiful rasp of his voice. “you want that don’t you? you want my cock, yeah?” 

you nod profusely, face heating up at his words and the way he articulates them. “y-yes… i do.” you mumble. 

“that’s a good girl.”

you moan at the praise, hips bucking up again as he stands to slip off his loose pjs. when they fall, his hard cock slaps against his covered abdomen and you feel your heart skip a beat at his size. 

you gasp, sitting up as your sensitive cunt pulses once more. it’s so fucking pretty. you’ve heard your girl friends talk about how ugly and gross dicks were, a conversation that you never had input for, but after seeing wonwoo’s, you know they haven’t been blessed with the sight of one like his. 

he’s huge, for starters. it makes your tummy churn and swirl because you know he won’t be able to fit inside of you— not all at once at least. it’s long with prominent veins running through. the tip is flushed and leaky and he looks so hard it hurts. 

“won’t fit,” you whimper slowly gravitating towards him at the edge of your bed, eyes not leaving the throbbing member. “it’s not gonna fit, won,” you look up at him through your lashes and his entire body twitches as he looks down at your doe eyes. 

“and how do you know that?” he grabs your face with one of his hands, squishing your cheeks with his pointer and thumb finger. “you can take it, baby, don’t worry. i’ll be gentle.”

the tone of his voice drops an octave, and this time, you don’t believe him. there is something predatory about his words that makes you squirm and gush under his gaze. you don’t think he’ll be gentle, the way he looks at you like… it’s like he’s about to have his last meal. 

and, honestly, you find that you love it. you love having him look at you like he’s yours and your his. you love his attention. you love having him like this. 

he pushes you back again, your back hitting the plush bed. you bite your lip as you see him join and tower over you. he flashes a smile and you slowly melt and wither away under him, body squirming a bit. 

he looks in between your bodies and realizes he’s not wearing a condom. his face drains of color at the thought of your cunt taking his cock bare. “sweetheart… wait,”

your eyes widen and your lips form into a small pout, “what is it? what’s wrong?”

“need to get a condom,” he huffs and it’s apparent that he’s not very happy about the idea. he’s always worn one. every time. with every girl he’s ever been with. but every single time he’s imagined taking you, it was without one. he wants nothing in the way between you and him, but, of course, he needs to respect you and think about your safety. no matter how bad he wants it.

you furrow your eyebrows, “...why?” you whisper. 

this time, he mirrors your confused look. you’re a virgin, sure, but you must know what a condom is. “what do you mean why, angel? it’s pro–”

you shake your head, cutting him off. “i mean, why do you need it? are you… not clean?” you ask worriedly. 

“no, of course i am!”

“well, don’t leave me here,” you mumble. “‘m on the pill now, so you should be fine without one… now, please? wanna feel like i did before… wanna feel all of you…”

wonwoo now knows he’s died. he’s died and now he’s in paradise. you, and all your beauty, laying under him with the prettiest pout, begging for him. for his cock. raw. everything he’s dreamed of is about to come true... if he doesn’t cum first.

“god,” he mutters. he takes his length in his hand, stroking himself before lining up with your entrance. “you want my cock then?” he whispers, dragging the tip up and down your messy folds. 

“yeah, please… go slow…” 

he lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head before guiding himself back to your dripping hole. he inhales sharply, pushing himself inside, immediately entranced by the feeling of your warmth enveloping him whole. 

you wince letting out a soft cry of his name. he pushes past the resistance and you feel him taking something that’s been so sacred for as long as you could remember, but if you’re being transparent you couldn’t be happier that it’s him. you wouldn’t want anyone else to be in this position.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts with his raspy, deep voice that makes you clench even tighter around him. “fuck, so fucking tight, baby. so perfect.” he can barely trust his voice. it’s barely been five minutes, but he swears on everything he’s never felt this good before. 

you’re not even sure his fingers helped you enough because the stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. “hurts…” you whimper out, eyes screwed close to keep the pained tears from falling. 

he bites his lip to suppress a moan at the sight of you like this, instead asking, “you good, baby? need me to pull out?” he’ll die if you do, so he hopes you answer against the idea. 

“n-no,” you pant, trying to breathe your way through the pain. “j-just go slow…s’big, feel too full,” you reply, brain unable to give him complete sentences. 

his eyes almost roll at your broken words. “i know, baby, i know. you’re doing so well for me, hm? takin’ it well all for me,” he manages to tell you even though he’s twitching like he might explode within the next 30 seconds. 

his praise makes you gasp as you arch your back, a new gush of arousal coating his hard length. when wonwoo speaks to you like this, it makes your head fog. the validation and praise and the lovingness behind it all makes you want to have him forever. you want him to speak to you like you're his baby forever. 

it almost makes you forget that this is just a favor. that you have a boyfriend and he has a sea of gorgeous women lined up for him. almost. 

after a few more minutes of slowly inching his way inside you, he finally bottoms out. you’re already a bit sore from the stretch, but the pain recedes and he fits like a glove. like he was made to be inside you and you were made to take him and all of his glory. it only riles you up, your pussy tightening around him even more. 

he groans out your name, “fuck, don’t do that or i won’t be able to last, pretty girl.”

“‘m sorry,” you mewl. “can’t help it, feels so good, wonwoo,” you finally open your eyes to look into his. “keep moving please?” you pout, keeping your tears at bay. 

he can’t emphasize how close he is to spontaneously combusting and pumping you full just to fuck you over and over again. he wants to fuck you till your pussy’s raw and you’re begging for mercy. he wants to see your pretty tears, hear your cries, see you dripping in sweat and cum. 

he doesn’t say anything, pulling out slowly and pushing himself back in. you gasp, hands moving to tug on the fabric of his shirt in attempts to pull it off. 

“ah, ah, ah,” wonwoo reprimands. “can’t be the only one without a shirt, baby, you gotta take yours off first.” he smirks at your eagerness. 

you nod quickly as you sit up, still so full of him, peeling your flimsy tank top off. you free your chest and wonwoo groans when he finally sees them. 

“so pretty…” he mumbles, pushing you back down with a bit more force than you were expecting. one of his hands comes to squeeze the fat, fondling it like he’s wanted to for so long. his cock thrusts into you again a bit faster and you cry again at the stimulation. 

“t-take it off!” you beg, reaching for the shirt again. 

he chuckles, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the pile of clothes on the floor. once you see his skin, your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him down for a kiss. you imitate the actions of your first kiss earlier, opening your mouth to let his tongue in. you let him sloppily makeout with your own. 

it’s messy. a newfound experience for you. you’ve never had a kiss like this– never had a kiss where it felt like you were about to get swallowed whole. you’ve never had a kiss filled with so much passion, a kiss so loud where you’re moaning into someone's mouth and they’re moaning into yours so lustily. it’s your first. wonwoo’s your first for many it seems. 

wonwoo can’t say he’s never had a messy kiss because he’s had plenty. maybe a few too many. but, unbeknownst to you, he’s never felt so eager for anyone in all his years of knowing you– lusting after you. he wants this so bad. he wants you so fucking bad it’s making his throat constrict, his abdomen tighten, his dick twitch as it’s surrounded by your warm walls.

his cock fills you up so well and you feel like there’s a big possibility that you may get addicted to the feeling. now that the pain has subsided, you can feel the prominent veins pressing into your velvety walls. you can feel every twitch and his bulbous head rubbing right against that spot that’s turning your brain into mush. 

“fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he moans into your mouth, thrusts increasing in pace. 

“love it when you call me that,” you admit, mindlessly. you pull him in closer, nails digging into his back, imprinting red crescent shapes in the skin. 

he lets out a guttural groan, breaking from the kiss and looking into your teary eyes. “you like being my good little baby, huh?” he asks breathlessly and when you whine and clench around him, he chuckles. “i can tell, angel, pretty pussy is loving my cock– swallowing all of me like such a good slut.”

he didn’t mean to say it, but when the words slip out, your eyes widen. his expression mirrors yours and his speed falters. your pulse thumps erratically and you’re sure your heart is going to lurch out of your chest, teeth catching your bottom lip, biting and digging into the pillowy muscle. 

“i didn’t mean–”

“keep going…” you whisper, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him into you and return to his prior pace. “oh, won, please keep going.” your begs make him reel. 

your pupils are completely blown out now. like you’ve taken some type of drug and you’re feeling the euphoric effects of it all. you can’t wrap your head around why you feel the way you do because of one degrading word. 

jesus christ, he thinks to himself. he has to be in love. you’re so greedy, so much potential to be his gorgeous girl. he thinks you’re perfect for him– no, he knows you’re perfect for him. he’s confident with the way he fits in you and the way you trust him with your body. he can’t even care to think about your stupid boyfriend. you’re his now. his to fuck stupid and pump full of cum. his to punish and praise and pleasure. he’ll turn you into his own little cockhungry slut.

his thoughts get the best of him as he nearly blacks out at the idea of you being his. his hips snap against yours with a particularly harsh thrust and he feels his tip kissing your cervix and you sob out, “fuh-fuck!”

and at the sound of your sobs and pleads and curses, he feels as if he can’t restrain himself any longer. he sits up on his knees, hands grabbing at your waist with a vice-like grip that will likely result in splats of purple bruises the next morning. not like either of you could give a fuck. he relentlessly pounds into you, balls lewdly slapping against your sloppy cunt without a care in the world. 

your cries and his groans plus all the pornographic sounds your bodies make together fill the room, bouncing off your cutely decorated walls. he can tell you’re going to cum soon when your breathing picks up, watching the way your chest rises and falls at an alarming rate.

you suddenly remember how you felt right before he had snatched his fingers from you earlier. you can feel it creeping back up, the fiery knot in your tummy tightening. your hand finds the sensitive bud wonwoo was toying with earlier, gently rubbing circles into it. 

he notices immediately and grunts. “such a greedy girl already, aren’t you? i’ve ruined you.” ruined you for everyone else and it’s been the best thing he’s ever done, he fails to add. 

you nod, tears dripping down the sides of your face. “g-god!”

“not quite, baby.” he chuckles breathily. “gonna cum for me? hmm, baby? gonna soak my cock for the first time like the good little slut you are?” he rambles, his own orgasm– that he’s held back all this time– quickly approaching.

you mewl at the mixed praise and degradation once more, fingers working faster as your brain numbs. “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you slur. “oh, ‘m gonna… wonwoo, ‘m gonna–!”

the words die on your tongue– the stimulation on your clit and the stimulation of his cock ramming into your sweet spot has you coming all over him. your back arches and your thighs convulse as you clamp around his cock. a squealing mantra of his name and curses flee your mouth as the tightrope in your tummy snaps.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything as euphoric in your life. it feels so good to let go and gush all over his cock while he fucks you through your orgasm so erratically. you can tell he’s close, too. a few more seconds and he’ll be making a mess. 

“ah, fuck– ‘m so close, baby, pretty pussy’s milking me for all i’m worth,” he moans out the warning. “love it so much.” he loves you so much.

you can barely hear a noise, let alone comprehend any of his words, so you just nod frantically as your sensitive body twitches under him sporadically. 

his thrusts go sloppy and before you know it, he pulls out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. “fuck,” he grunts before he’s overtaken by the immense pleasure your pussy’s given him. he moans and lets out small whimpers as he pumps his cock, painting your sheen skin with his warm seed. he throws his head back as he moans out your name, “Y/N, fuck,”

he wishes so badly he could have came inside of you, but he’s going to make sure there’s another opportunity for that. he’ll be damned if he never fucks your cute pussy again. 

you whimper at the sudden warm substance on your skin. your eyes crack open to see your stomach covered in a sticky, white liquid– or maybe a mix between liquid and solid. your not sure you know how to describe it. 

you look at him as your mind comes to you. his hair disheveled, a few strays sticking to his sweaty forehead and the pace, at which, his chest rises and falls slows till it’s normal once more. 

when you come down, you suddenly remember your boyfriend. you were so sure you wanted him till wonwoo looked at you, made you feel special, took your virginity– now, you’re a mess. the mental image of your boyfriend fogs over in your head with words wonwoo whispered to you while he was fucking you. 

but you shouldn’t think about it anymore, right? everything was going to go back to normal after tonight, wouldn’t it? wonwoo will ever forgot this happened and he would bring some girl over when he thought you were gone and fuck her the same way he fucked you. you’d go back to thinking about your boyfriend trying to push the thoughts of your best friend making you cum over and over out of your head (it won’t work, but a girl can dream). all will be well. for one of you, at least.

“Y/N?” he mumbles. 

you look up at him and give him a small smile, “thanks for your help, won,” you whisper masking the sadness in your voice. “‘m gonna shower…” you don’t wait for his reply before you move off your bed. 

your legs are wobbly and your entirety feels sore. he really did a number on you. you whimper with every step you take and wonwoo quickly finds his pants and slips them on before rushing to your side.

“Y/N, c’mon, lemme take care of you.” he murmurs, his hands finding your waist to ground you and keeping your body from hobbling over. “get back on the bed, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 

you huff, physically unable to fight him on the matter and shuffling back to your bed uncomfortably. the ache between your legs and the nasty feeling of his release drying on your naked body were not a good mix. then you fucking remembered you were naked. you gasp, startling wonwoo, your arms wrapping around your body in attempts to hide yourself as if he hadn’t fucked you five minutes ago. 

“what’s wrong?” he asks, a look of confusion painting his face.

“y-you… i… i’m naked…” you tell him meekly, moving to lay on the bed again. “this… is so weird.”

he smiles softly at your sudden shyness. “back to being shy, are we?” you frown at him and he just laughs heartily, your body filling with even more dread because– god. he’s just perfect and not yours. “‘m only teasing, doll, ‘s okay.”

you don’t reply, awkwardly shifting under his gaze. the pet name sounds so natural. like he’s meant to call you pretty things. like you're meant to be his.

but he’s not yours and you’re not his.

you stutter, words fleeing you in the moment you need them most. “wonwoo… i-i…”

you look like you’re on the brink of tears, guilt wracking your body. wonwoo feels his chest tighten, breath hitching in his dry throat, “Y/N, do you regret it?” he asks, words hushed. he’s anxious. 

“no! no, no, i don’t… i don’t regret it. i trust you more than anyone, wonwoo. i promise.” you say meekly and he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. “i just… can we act like it never happened?”

the weight returns. heavier. it nearly crushes him. he couldn’t forget about this even if he’d wanted to. he’s already tattooed every second of tonight into his fuzzy brain. every reaction, every moan, every single word you gave him is all he’ll think about. 

he clears his throat, a shaky exhale slipping his lips before asking, “if you don’t regret it then why…?” he can’t even get the question out. he knows the answer. (read: the unnamed boyfriend– the one that he swears he’ll kill the second he meets him.)

you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. “you know why.” 

he does. 

“and plus, we’re just friends. and roommates. it’ll just be awkward.” you cringe at your words because, unbeknownst to him, you don’t want to forget it. you know you won’t be able to forget it. not the possessive words that he spat during his sex-crazed haze, not the way his cock felt, not the way he looked at you.  

he waits for you to look at him, but you don’t. you can’t look at him right now. 

“okay.” he says coldly after sitting in deafening silence for over a minute. “consider it forgotten.”

he’ll make you his one of these days. you may not know it yet, but you belong with him. and he’d do anything for you. 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[qhoaaaa]

SO *claps hands* MILO GREER HUH 💛

I feel like if Erik ever does a flashback of Milo/Sweetheart becoming mates

I just

KENDOWHWOEDN

Think that Milo would be so fucking nervous

"Yeah, I just....see you... as my mate... yeap! And I know we've talked about this before and I just... wanted to say that... uhm... no, wanted to ask if... you'd wanna be my... mate?"

(Insert more lovey dovey shit he is yapping abt how amazing Sweetheart is and has been to him and how they have affected his life)

100% Asher would be more awkward but Milo's nerves are fucking SHOT because he's like holy shiiiiiitt I'm gonna fuckign do this aren't I yes I am

Trying to see if Milo would ask/say it in his apartment or the place where they hunted the Shade down together

Bc he's sentimental

Fucker (I love him)

"My ma is gonna be so fuckin happy"

He's crying your honor

Love a man whose in touch with his emotions

When Sweetheart says yes he's like,

"No shit... WAIT what did you say... yea, that's what I thought... (he's like how the fuck did i get to this point)... w-well what do I do now? I DONT KNOW IVE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE"

Ahem (NSFW 18+ AFTER CUT)

Tagging! @annahxredaxted @moronkyne

He mounts them.

This is shameless smut you've been warned. 😈

They fuck first in the woods (if he asked in the woods) , then later at his apartment bc we all know these two can't keep their hands off each other...

Hands gripping their hips, it just comes natural to him, especially after they said yes to being his mate.

Let's out the most feral and gutteral moan when he presses inside them

And erm,,, 🥺

Bites.

Tons of biting, claims he wants to have his scent all over them and loves to see his teeth prints on their sweet neck and shoulders

If Sweetheart is on their belly, he bites at their nape, as if trying to keep them still (RHSIDBDJEJE PLEASE PELASEE EPWLSLSLEELEJR)

"My mate... my fucking mate! Mmhh, gonna... gonna fuck you nice and deep... just how my mate likes it..."

He legit won't stop touching them, his hands sliding over their sides, nails lightly pressing into them, he presses his cheek to their neck to smell them, to smell their pleasure, to hear their gasps and moans: he's worshipping them

Milo kinda likes to manhandle them, so there's times where he grips their hips up off the bed/surface and it makes them shiver, he flips them over onto their back to touch their chest and belly, and scoots closer between their legs to fuck them senseless

He does that thing where he moves Sweetheart's legs straight up and holds them and fucks between their thighs before slipping into their hole, he also spanks their thighs while he fucks them a bit

Kinda like honeymoon sex except they're not married, they're mates

And the whole time, he's just rambling on thanking them for being in his life, for being his mate, and being super cute and sappy while he's about to cum inside them

HE LAUGHS DURING SEX, BE STILL MY HEART

They fell asleep with his cock still inside them and in the morning when they're both up, Milo gently fucks into them again, holding them tight to his chest and he has the honor to see them cum on him AND to cum in them again

If they're feeling it, Sweetheart asks Milo for the good old 69 and Milo's like....

"I fucking love youuu"

Milo's on the bottom (they actually push him on the bed and are like "you better fucking stay down and let me please you" and hes like "ooh... hell yeah Sweetheart" (heart eyess)) , Sweetheart is on top and they're fucking deep throating his cock so well he tells them to go slower or else he'll cum too quickly and they're like, ok and?? , he just laughs and then they just plant themselves on his face

Then Milo's got his hands wrapped around their thighs and is NOT letting them go, occasionally he'll have his hand caress up their spine to see them squirm and he'll wrap his hand in their hair, pulling back gently, to see them arch

Even like this he can't resist to spank and grab at their ass, especially if they're fucking SITTING ON HIM (insert that one meme of Doja Cat about big noses)

When they finally cum, Milo kinda shakes his face against them to get every last drop, his tongue swirling everywhere. This man needs their cum.

And Sweetheart makes him cum when they take his cock as far as it'll go and stay there until that cock is done pumping in their mouth.

They are both cum slutsI MEAN WHATAATTEEJEJDIEJOJ

I'm done yapping goodnight

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓞𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼

Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: You’re a sociology student writing your final thesis, you shouldn’t care whether the new DEA attaché is an asshole, you shouldn’t be getting on his nerves every chance you get, shouldn’t be dreaming of him the way you do, and you certainly shouldn’t be bent over his desk in the middle of the night– letting him fuck you senseless.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, big girthy age gap [reader is in her early twenties Javier is in his mid 40s], petnames [sweetheart, girlie, baby, babygirl etc], smut, explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy kink, dom!Javi, mean brat tamer! javi, sub!reader, major size kink, reader is a menace and a brat, cheek pulling, like two spanks and a slap, minor choking, degradation, name calling, fingering, semi public sex [in his office], rough sex, unprotected P in V [don't do it you’re better than them!!] let me know if I missed anything!!

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: Lotsa porn, lotsa plot. Filthier than I’d like to admit but here we are. Javier is emotionally unavailable but I don’t care. Enjoy nasties. Mwah 💗

Masterlist

My old man is a bad man, but

I can't deny the way he holds my hand

And he grabs me, he has me by my heart

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past

He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me

He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart

You were sure you looked nothing short of unstable– the way you were smiling to yourself as you hit the ‘submit’ button on the first checkpoint of your research paper. The past few months had been absolute chaos, and you weren’t really sure what was worse; the fact that your workplace had become an HR nightmare, or the way you were enjoying every goddamn second of it. 

Not long ago you’d been lucky enough to pack your bags and board a flight to Bogotá, where you were going to be writing your final sociology thesis. You’d fought tooth and nail with the department for this opportunity, and the fact that you were finally going to be there doing the work you’d always imagined– it was a dream. While you were initially a little weary of having to go through the American embassy to access records, and archives, you knew this was the best deal you were going to get, so you pushed your hesitation aside and took them up on their offer. You were obviously aware the department was going to give you hell for it– your work would be put under immeasurable scrutiny, they were going to bother you with emails all day every day, snoop around your work through their contacts at the embassy, and take any chance to fly you back. But it didn’t matter; it was going to be a dream. 

Impressing the ambassador was your top priority, impressing everyone around you really was. For as long as you could remember your bright smile, hard work and sunshine attitude had only worked in your favor. If there was one thing you enjoyed, it was the great privilege of being all your professors’ favorite student. That’s how you’d even convinced them to let you travel thousands of miles away on the university’s dime in the first place. 

The world of academia was hard, especially when you were starting out, everyone you dealt with wasn’t a progressive professor who valued your opinion despite your age and gender. Sometimes you needed help from the sleazy HOD, or the grumpy receptionist and neither cared about your expertise on Helmut Schoeck. It didn’t bother you, all you cared about was the quality of your work, and you were not going to let anyone get in the way of it. So, if good work and behaviour didn't get you what you wanted you just used your batting eyelashes, innocent pout and harmless bribes– the receptionist had mentioned liking strawberry shortcake nearly two years ago in passing, and that information sure as hell came in handy when you needed to get your paperwork sorted out. 

Boy did that skill of yours come in handy during your time in Bogotá

No one was going to make this experience anything but splendid, you were going to get to the embassy, meet the ambassador, charm her and all her coworkers in no time, make some trusted allies and go about your research unbothered and unfazed. You were determined. It was going to be a dream. 

That was until it was an absolute nightmare. The moment your plane’s wheels hit the tarmac you were slapped with wave after wave of absolute frustration. Your phone was inundated with missed calls from an unknown number, and when you called back you were promptly informed by the Ambassador’s secretary that due to spacing issues you were being relocated to the DEA offices at the far end of the embassy. 

Great, nothing better than being around a bunch of cops 24/7 .

You hadn’t made it three steps off the aerobridge before two men– both of whom looked terribly out of place in their baseball hats, grabbed you by the arm and dragged you through the airport. You wouldn’t say the word ‘accosted’ was dramatic when describing the way two employees of the American embassy had apprehended you. They didn't seem much older than you were, but they sure as hell thought they ran the damn place. When you thought about elitist diplomats thinking they were doing god's work you could be sure you imagined Agent Daniel Van Ness and Agent Chris Feistl’s faces before you’d even met them. 

“Ow! What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Van Ness pretty much tossed you into his suspicious, unmarked vehicle, and as if you weren’t sore from your excruciatingly long flight you were sure you were going to need some ice packs when you got to your service apartment. “Okay, let's not make a scene, as I said we were told to get you as soon as you got off that plane” Feistl started the engine with one hand, and put the other one up in mock surrender. 

“Didn’t know kidnapping was part of the Ambassador's agenda in Bogotá” .

The car ride to the embassy was mostly quiet, and you took the time to enjoy the beautiful Colombian city as it came into view, clear your head and mentally plan for your stay. That was, save for the two men’s grumbling about a certain Javier Peña. “Yeah, we miss this meeting and Peña’s gonna be on our ass for the next week” You’d quickly learnt he was a little bit of a hero in the DEA world, whatever that meant– took down Escobar and all. And if you couldn’t loathe him more already he was now promoted to attaché. From what Van Ness and Feistl told you  he sounded like a character– hard ass, stubborn, insolent, the list went on and on. This Javier must really be something

How bad could he really be? Probably some grumpy old guy you’d run into once in a while at the water station or fax machine. He’d pay no mind to you; some irrelevant college student. Besides, you’d win him over with your signature smile. Who knew maybe you’d even become friends? “Well Im looking forward to meeting this Javier Peña” 

 “No one has ever said that. I don't think his mother said that when he was poppin’ out.” 

And boy were they right, Javier Peña really was something. The elevator doors opened to what would soon become a familiar sight– Javier trailing the ambassador as she tried to escape him and the DEA offices. “With all due respect, if I wanted to be a babysitter I would've taken up a job with the RIPs”  She turned to face him, her back to you. “Agent Peña, I'm going to repeat myself one more time, and I really shouldn't have to, but please stop referring to them as the “RIP’’s ”. Talk about professionalism, you definitely weren’t expecting whatever the hell this was when you thought of diplomatic work. 

Noonan almost unceremoniously bumped into you as she skirted away from Javier, raising her hands in absolute elation now that he had to take care of you, and couldn’t bother her any longer. “There you are, perfect! Agent Peña show her around, and please, be nice.” She all but pushed you into him, and you heard Javier helplessly and pathetically yell after her as she walked to the elevator. “I still need that clearance ambassador–” 

Despite the fact that he was looking at you like he wanted to tear you apart you didn't let that distract from the absolute marvel Javier Peña was. If you didn’t know any better you’d be on your knees for the man, and you couldn’t trust that you did. With the way his hair sat messily ruffled atop his head in soft curls, falling dangerously close to his eyes, or the way his now crinkled button up from the tiring workday hugged his forearms, who could blame you? Who knew, maybe you even liked the way he looked at you? 

You shot him your signature smile, and extended your hand to introduce yourself. Forget about Noonan, she’d probably retire soon anyway, it was his approval you really wanted now. With brows raised he took his time assessing you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over your body, or the way he chewed on his lip as he did so. Feeling a little, or maybe very, hot under his gaze you shifted uncomfortably, still holding your hand out politely, but all you got from him besides his shameless gawking was a condescending chuckle, and he was turning away and walking back inside. 

So he really was an asshole. 

You stood in shock for a moment. Was this some sort of odd hazing process at the embassy? What the hell was going on? His voice zapped you out of the absolute embarrassment of an interaction you just had. “You gonna stand there all day?” God he was such a prick. You’d barely been there two minutes and you were already on Van Ness and Feist's team. You couldn’t even imagine what life would be like if he was your boss. Or could you? 

Your gaze hardened at the realization. If there was one thing you were not going to do it was lust hopelessly after a man who didn't even want to give you the time of day, someone who thought he was so much better than you were. You were not going to inflate his already massive ego by crooning for his praise, no! You were not going to let him wield that kind of power over you. 

You watched as he walked through the office, the man sucked the air outta the room with the way he quite literally strutted across it. Practically dragging yourself behind him you tried your best to compose yourself, you were not going to let Peña and his asshole ways ruin your stay– he was going to like you, going to give you the time of day– and if hard work and a good attitude didn’t do it, your batting lashes certainly would.  

—

Swimmin' pool glimmerin', darling

White bikini off with my red nail polish

Watch me in the swimmin' pool, bright blue ripples

You sittin', sippin' on your Black Cristal, oh, yeah

In the subsequent days you surprisingly had made yourself quite at home in the embassy– after all you did spend almost all of your day there. Van Ness and Fiestl soon became great friends, and would often drop by your workstation during breaks, or to invite you out for drinks after work. Things were going rather well, there was nothing much to complain about. The people who worked at the embassy were really friendly, and many of them took a liking to you. If charming your way into everyone's good graces was still your plan it sure as hell was working. 

You’d even met a certain blonde haired, blue eyed office heartthrob. While they were both certainly easy on the eyes, Agent Murphy was otherwise little like his partner, he was friendly, helpful, and generally in a good mood. Hell he even wished you ‘good morning’ when he got into work everyday. In due time you could even say Steve Murphy had become somewhat of a friend, he was quite fond of you– then again everyone in the office really was. 

That is almost everyone. 

Progress in the Javier department of your life had barely made moves. He was such a dick. On your second day you remember knocking on his door and politely asking if he could sign some papers that would get you some cultural records in Bogotá. You didn’t know what response you’d been expecting, but he'd essentially told you to leave him the hell alone.  

You wondered if being such a bitter jerk was exhausting. “Now girlie, runalong..” And with that he shut his door. You didn't want to let it affect you, but it did. You crooned for his attention, but he was so cold and detached, and nothing seemed to get through to him. The smiles, the ‘good mornings’, the way you’d offered to drop his files at the Ambassador's on your way there, it did nothing. He only smiled at you condescendingly, and at one point even joked about how he wasn’t sure you were capable of making it to the other side of the building. 

“Don't worry your head about these files, wouldn’t want you wandering around, lost, tryna find Noonan’s office.” 

Not to mention how he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about your “silly little paper”, how your work was “cute” or “funny”. God, you couldn’t stand it. The way he leaned over your desk, jumbled up your resources while he carelessly looked through them. With his messy, loose tie, and his sideways smile, and warm, comforting brown eyes, and that mocking teasing tone…... 

—- 

My old man is a tough man, but

He got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam

And he shows me, he knows me

Every inch of my tar-black soul

“If he can’t drink it, or fuck it, he’s not interested.” When Feistl had told you that on your first day you scoffed, but it proved to be valuable, and unbelievably, true information in no time. Unintentionally Javier had condemned himself to an eternal state of perdition, you were not giving up, and this time you were going to drive him crazy. 

He surely wasn’t prepared for the little menace you became in the following weeks. You only felt pride when you’d catch him looking at you– embarrassing how he couldn't keep his eyes off. You and your cute little dresses, skirts, those you didn’t initially plan to wear to the office. His glare almost burnt a hole in your back everyday at midday, hotter than the afternoon sun peaking through the blind covered windows as you sat on Van Ness’ desk, laughing at something Feistl said. If there was one thing worse than an HR violation, it was an HR violation with a girl nearly half his age.

You’d found a fancy for discovering his ticks, new ways you could push his buttons. When you weren’t calling him sir as you addressed him, or taunting him with your dopey eyes and girlish smiles you were making his life a lot less convenient. 

“Where the hell is Peña” at least twice a week Stechner would all but slither into the office, talking about congress people, funding and how the DEA was raining all over his parade. As much as you hated the man, he was your trusted ally in trying times, especially when you decided breaking the office’s unspoken rule was going to be your new favorite pastime. That rule was of course, never telling anyone, especially his colleagues, where the hell Javier Peña was at any given time. 

So when Bill walked up to you and leaned beside your desk you faithfully pointed to the filing room you knew Javier was quite literally hiding in. When he walked, more like stormed out with Bill you were sure he could break you in half, the way he was looking at you, but you had given up lying to yourself, you loved it. Every morning he’d come into the office and have to find other places to escape to– from Noonan and Murphy and all other accountability. But for a cop he was pretty shit at it, and you always found a way to tell where it was he'd gone to. It also helped that nearly everyone enjoyed it when Javier had to deal with the bureaucracy, it was free reality tv, and you could be sure if you didn’t know who or what he was trying to avoid, someone else in the office surely would.

You had simultaneously become a great asset to Steve Murphy, who was, more than you expected, willing and enthusiastic about getting shit done, shit that Javier’s stubbornness would only prolong, especially because he knew the mix of Peña and the CIA was anything but productive. Whether it was distracting him while he got support for their missions, or rushing to answer the phones and covering for him and making Javi deal with Noonan you were always game. Murphy was always appreciative. 

“Steve’s out right now, but Javier’s in his office if you’d like to speak with him…” Steve pretty much cackled behind his desk as you handed the phone’s receiver to Peña, and watched as he exhaled heavily through his nose, using every bit of restraint he could possibly muster not to kick the two of you out of the building. He settled for flipping Murphy off instead. 

As someone who wasn’t an embassy employee you pretty much had free reign over the place, and you knew it only made Javier more upset knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. You were thoroughly enjoying your time in Bogotá, you knew Javier was thinking about you, you knew how much you got on his nerves, you loved the way he’d glare at you, boss you around, get annoyed at your little antics. You craved his attention and you were finally getting it. 

Though every once in a while you’d feel a little pang in your chest, at the way he’d roll his eyes at you, be his regular mean self. But you shoved that feeling aside, you did not want his approval. That would be pathetic. You just wanted a little payback.

—

He doesn't mind I have a flat broke-down life

In fact, he says he thinks it's what he might like about me

Admires me, the way I roll like a rolling stone

Javier had been avoiding you like the plague for a good two days. That was after he overheard a conversation you were having with your supervisor he wasn’t really meant to be a party to. You remember twirling the cord wire between your fingers as you updated her over the phone. “Yeah, I need to get to the congress library, they have all the copies there.” You pushed the speaker button, letting go of the receiver to sift through the piles of printed paper on your desk. “Do you have access, did the embassy get you an ID? I spoke to Noonan but she’s busy babysitting her employees.” You bit back a smile. Javier and Murphy sure were a handful. 

“No, of course they didn’t. They don’t give a rat's ass” Frankly, you were exhausted from having to get or find somebody to do anything around there. Noonan was practically no help until the dean was breathing down her neck, for people who had been working in Bogotà for years very few in the embassy knew the directions to anyplace that wasn’t a bar, and everyone was far too busy kissing each other’s ass to get things done. “The DEA can go, can't they? Get one of em to take you” Before you could respond you heard the rattling of the water cooler behind you, and you caught Javier’s half shocked half annoyed expression in the reflection of the window as he scrambled for a paper napkin to wipe the water off his dress shirt.  

“Hmm, I didn’t think of that…..that's a great idea” 

That was on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent turning in the opposite direction anytime you approached him, sneaking past you on his way in and out, and begging Murphy to take that trip to the Congress library instead. On Thursday you were sure you won the lottery. 

Both Murphy and Carillo in the same room, and better yet in the office before Javier had made his grand entrance. They stood over what looked to you like a large map, arguing about something with far too much energy at eight in the morning. You saw this as your little opening. Where the hell was Peña? 

Turns out he was with the Ambassador.  

—-

Likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom, Château Marmont

Slippin' on my red dress, puttin' on my makeup

Glass room, perfume, cognac, lilac fumes

Says it feels like heaven to him

“And you’re going too?” Ambassador Noonan sat back in her chair, twirling her pencil between her fingers, looking expectantly at the irate face in front of her. You thought you’d spare Agent Peña his white lies, answering promptly in that sweet voice of yours.  “Yes, Agent Murphy told me, and besides, if he's around I can access all the archives..” You shrugged your shoulders and shot her your most persuasive smile. “Government ID an’ all” . You almost felt bad for Peña, the way his friends were so quick to rat him out. But then again he’d stirred up enough petty fights over the years so that nearly everybody was quick to get their petty revenge. That jerk was planning to take his little trip to the library– with Carillio of all people, and he was going to leave you behind? Not anymore.

“Well, I don't see the problem, just take her to the goddamn library. Jesus Peña why is everything so difficult with you.” Javier shot you a glare you could only describe as deadly, but you could only giggle at his exasperation. He rose from his chair, leaning on her desk, like he was trying to seduce her into getting out of this situation. You wondered how Noonan showed so much restraint, if you were her you’d be giving into anything he said no questions asked. 

“Ambassador, really, all that is below my paygrade, don't ya think?” Your mouth fell agape, and you turned to him to find he was smiling, looking directly at you. Asshole  “This whole conversation is below my paygrade. You’re bothering me Peña, get to work..” and with that the two of you were practically kicked out of her office and thrown into the hall,  where in the deafening silence you heard the large wooden doors slam behind you. 

You were lucky there was no one else around, especially when he practically slammed you against the wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Tryna fuck my whole day over baby?” You had to physically fight yourself to not give into the death grip he had on your shoulders, to hold yourself up as he caged you against the corridor.  “I just really need these papers, and only you can get ‘em for me ” You bat your lashes at him, and he pressed his forehead against the wall beside you in complete frustration, sighing. He knew that wasn’t true, and he knew you did as well. Any intern could have gotten them for you, but who was an intern in comparison to him? 

“I won't bother you again, promise” you bit your lip and held your pinkie finger up in what Javier saw as practically an act of war. His hands moved from your shoulders to grab you by the waist as you looked up at him. Despite your smiley exterior you were all giddy on the inside, especially when he leant beside your ear and warned in his low whisper, thumbs drawing circles on your flesh. 

“You're playin’ with fire baby..” 

— 

I'm off to the races, laces

Leather on my waist is tight, and I am fallin' down

I can see your face, is shameless, Cipriani's Basement

Love you, but I'm goin' down

As much as you wanted to bother Javier during his little snoop session with Carillo, you still had a job to do, so you shoved your brattiness aside for a few hours and got to work finding the documents you needed from the archives. You were honestly expecting a medal for your self restraint, because once you were done you waited patiently till he strutted outside after his meeting, barely holding up the heavy box with all your findings. You’d been standing there for almost two hours, and the jerk hadn’t even given you a heads up so you could sit inside.

“Finally.” He rolled his eyes, and like he was running some sort of marathon didn’t bother even helping you, speed walking across the parking lot as you stumbled and struggled behind him– attempting to keep up. 

“We gotta get back, now.” 

You buckled your seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway, and relaxed against your seat as you caught your breath. “Where’re we going?” He turned to you and smiled, but it was in that signature condescending way that he always did. Meanie You thought to yourself. “We are not going anywhere. You are going back to the office, and I am going to take care of something you don't need to worry about.” You didn't know whether there was any use still being offended by his patronizing attitude, he could’ve just said you were going back to the office, but that was too normal, too dignified of a response for the great, cartel busting Javier Peña 

“I could come.” He laughed at your pout, as he turned to look at you, rounding the corner. “Baby, don’t ya’ think that's a little ambitious comin’ from someone who got winded carrying a box across a parking lot.” You scoffed, yes, it would've been nice to have some help. “Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to do with whatever it is you're going to do, anyway” Wanting to turn away from him you looked out the window, but that only lasted so long. 

“If this lead comes through, everyone in Bogotà’s gonna want everything to do with it.” You watched as the setting sun drenched your surroundings in a golden glow, and you couldn’t look away from the way Javier’s brown eyes too turned into pools of gold as the sun caught them. His voice a low hum just a little louder than the radio he habitually played as he drove around. It took a special type of maniac to go on missions off the clock. 

“Who’s it for, the lead?” He hummed, and smiled to himself as he spoke, that look on his face you couldn’t quite place– like he was just waiting for his opponent to slip up.  “One of the big guys. You should meet him when we bring him in– you’d get along–  he's a pain in my ass” 

You turned your gaze from the opening embassy gates to meet his eyes, your own narrowed into slits as you stared him down– he was smiling, and you hated it. “Mean.” He shook his head at your irritation, and wordlessly pulled up into the driveway. “Now, you're gonna take those files, and you're gonna sit your bratty ass down, and you're gonna work on that silly paper of yours” You were halfway out the door, lifting the giant cardboard box off the floor of the car with embarrassing difficulty.

Great, there was another thing he could berate you for. 

“That's a lot of instructions..” Your voice was muffled behind your paperwork, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it when he tried to boss you around. 

“Well here's another– don't touch anything while I'm gone.” He laughed to himself as he caught your rolling eyes peering at him over the top of the box, that being the only part of you that was really visible to him. Waiting for you to make it to the entrance he watched as one of his colleagues, one of the many heading out for the day, took it from you, and helped you inside. 

The low hum of the radio replaced the sound of your voice, an old spanish tune coming over the static as he drove out and away from the embassy. 

—

God, I'm so crazy, baby

I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving

I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island

Raisin' hell all over town

Sorry 'bout it

“Didn't I specifically tell you not to touch anything” You lifted your head in the direction of that familiar voice, irritated as usual, but also a little more gruff, a little more tired. For a moment you regretted annexing his office while he was away. You watched as he sauntered in and towards his desk, opposite the little workstation you’d set up on a spare table where he’d dumped his tie and blazer for when the Ambassador popped around. He propped his hands on his desk, leaning against it to meet your gaze. 

God did he look good, the day had taken its toll on him, but it was only doing him favors. That soft brown hair had been ruffled out of place, and that crisp button up sat wrinkled on his back, loosely and messily tucked into his navy dress pants, sleeves haphazardly rolled up his forearms. While he looked like he worked a regular nine to five, from the little you knew about his job, an intentionally minimal amount, you were sure the unkemptness was the result of some high stakes chase, raid or whatever it was he’d set his head to doing that day.  

“‘M not touching, I just needed the AC” He rolled his eyes, but his neatly hung blazer and rolled up tie caught his attention from across the room. “See.. Untouched” You shot him that smile that you knew drove him up the wall, and he shook his head, now concerned more with sorting the paperwork splayed out in front of him. “Must be real hard, highlightin’ all that paper” He pointed to your reference material. As bad as the day was, it wasn't bad enough to persuade him to stop being a jerk.  

The place was a mess, and he couldn’t leave it this way till the morning, that would be a hit to his professionalism far worse than any of the shady shit he’d done over the years. He didn’t have time for your childish antics. At least for the moment. It’d been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to get it over with. Boy did he look like he needed to let off some steam, and while at first glance your actions were doing anything but helping him relax, couldn’t he see you were just begging for him to use you for exactly that? 

Maybe it was because he was tired of your shit, or because he was far too preoccupied with his work at the time, or because the office was dark and quiet and cold, but the next few minutes passed in uncharacteristic silence. You gazed up once in a while to see Javier’s scrunched brows sort through an abundance of filing. He’d sigh heavily every once in a while, and you could only wonder what or who, besides you, got on his nerves that much. You were almost eager to eliminate the competition. The world drowned out in the white noise of shuffling documents and clicking pens and you were once again lost in your paper. 

Every part of you really wished he wasn’t such an asshole. What had you ever done to him anyway, for him to be so cold and mean? You couldn’t pretend you had nothing to do with it, you'd egged him on beyond measure, but you’d only ever wanted him to like you. Okay maybe you thoroughly enjoyed his irritation, but you only really ever wanted his attention. Pathetic.. You thought to yourself. You pretended he wasn’t bothered by you taking over his office for a moment.

“Done yet?” You hadn’t even realized how or when Javier had crossed the room and made his way in front of you. His fingers danced on the edge of your laptop screen. You didn’t feel like answering just yet, so you typed away at your keyboard for a while longer. The silence wasn’t appreciated, and you could feel the exhaustion radiate off him like heat. You caught him fiddling with the pens on your desk, and skimming over some of your printed material from the corner of your eye, and you bit your lip to stifle your laughter when he chucked it back on your desk in what you assumed was complete disinterest. He was going to try harder to get your attention. 

You weren't prepared however when he practically slammed your laptop shut, forcing you to stop ignoring him. Talk about disrupting the workplace. Groaning, you rested your chin in your palms and peered up at him through dopey eyes. A man who had been driven to the edge, that's the gaze you met. It was not going to affect you, that muted rage, that wrought iron glare. You promised yourself. But your desires were already betraying you.. you rubbed your thighs together to alleviate the ache. 

“There a problem?” With a tone that set his last teeth on edge you kept up the facade, against your better judgment. It was just too much fun not to. When you looked up at him through your lashes you could almost see the slight tick in his jaw, and your mind wandered to what other ways you’d like this type of view. “Yes, in fact there is. It's 1am” He leaned forward, dangerously close, to the point you could feel the warmth of his breath fan against your lips, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You caught the faint smell of cigarettes off his disheveled clothes, the scent of whiskey on his lips. You felt your breath hitch, but you hoped he didn't notice. How naive, that was. 

“And” Your eyes darted to his mouth momentarily as you spoke, voice wavering. He raised his brows, almost to tell you not to push him any further than you already did. It was too late, however. Whatever this was had spiraled far out of your control, and he could see the way you squirmed under that commanding gaze of his. Your brain was screaming at the attention, and you had to inwardly yell at yourself to stop being so needy. 

“And?” Your brows furrowed, your lips forming that signature pout when you heard him mock your tone, your voice.  “I've had a long day, baby, and I wanna go home” You huffed girlishly at his ridicule, the way he liked to humiliate you by throwing your attitude back in your face with his snide imitations, his raised brow and faux sympathy. He talked like one does to a misbehaving child. In that patronizing, explanatory melody. You watched him chuckle with slitted eyes, though you were slowly turning to a puddle underneath it all.

“Go home then Mr. Peña. I'm not stopping you am I?” You watched his eyes darken, and you weren't even sure that was possible, but you didn’t have much time to think because before you knew it he was pinching your cheeks between his fingers, his other hand still holding him up on the table. You could only whine under his rough touch as its effects licked between your thighs. He laughed when you mewed at the sting. 

“Oh but you are. You're just beggin’ me to stay, aren't ya’ baby?” Your soft and pathetically unconvincing ‘no’ was muffled as he squeezed your cheeks in his large hands, yanking you in his direction as you fruitlessly attempted to free yourself from his grip. Unable to help yourself you were almost crooning into his touch, your body basically begging him to rough you up. “Such a fuckin’ brat. Runnin’ your mouth all day, showin’ up in those clothes, fuckin up my schedule, acting like a whore” His soft whisper made you shiver, your skin now on fire. He spoke slowly, and every syllable made you want to drop at his feet with a vigor you could only be embarrassed of. He made you feel small, made you feel helpless under his touch. 

You wanted to push back, wanted to defy his accusations.“‘m not a whore” He smiled at your whining, and if you were delusional, and you were, even hopeful,  you’d say he did so endearingly. But Javier Peña didn’t care about endearments, and after the way you’d acted you’d be crazy to think he thought there was anything endearing about you. “Right baby. You're not. Gotta pay girls to act this way ‘round me. But look at you. Didn’t spare you a fuckin dime.” 

He had let go of your face, and had in a moment, quickly and uncaringly dumped you on the table in front of him. You let out a soft “ow” when you felt your knees bump the wood before your legs were dangling off its edge. You were far closer to him now, and if you had felt small before you thought you were only shrinking in comparison to his domineering frame– physical, mental, everything. Your brain was mush, your body was mush, and you could only lean into his touch– benevolent or not. 

In an uncharacteristically gentle gesture he patted your cheeks with the palm of his hand, lightly, as if to soothe the sore flesh, but it only made the way he pulled them mockingly far more jarring. “Know what that makes you babygirl?” He paused for a moment, knowing you couldn't answer, looking down at the way your eyes were now welling with tears at the pain, and reveling in the sight. 

“Makes you a little slut” 

You wanted to respond, wanted to defend yourself, but you could only settle for grabbing his dress shirt in the balls of your first. The fabric of your panties had pretty much soaked through, and you felt it cling to you uncomfortably as you shifted on the table to pull him closer. Practically begging for his touch. 

He let go of your face, but he didn’t plan on being any more gentle. He knew there was nothing you could do, nothing you could say at that moment, and he took full advantage of your silence– telling you everything he’d wanted to scream in your face for the past month. It was even better now however, because as a fun bonus, for his superhuman self control, you were even pleading for him to do so. He could see it in your eyes, feel it on your hot skin, the way you subtly rolled your hips against the table to ease the pang between your thighs. He reduced you to a dumb, empty headed bimbo, with his words alone. He couldn't help but rub it in a little. “Aw baby, no words for me? Where’s that snappy mouth now?” That faux sympathy was back again

His hands rubbed up and down your sides, moving to toy with the buttons of your top as he spoke. Fiddling with them he popped the first few open, enough to expose the swell of your breasts to the cool of the air conditioned office. With lust blown eyes he trailed his thumbs along your collar bones and then down to your admittedly skimpy lingerie– you gasped when he yanked it down, practically tearing if in a swift motion. He admired you for a moment, held you in place when you squirmed against him, wrapped your legs around his waist. 

You shifted on the desk, leaning your face against his torso, looking up at him,  pleading with your eyes. “Like you better like this, clothes half off like a desperate slut that couldn’t even wait to get undressed.” He paused, still admiring, tracing your cheekbones with his thumbs. “Oh, and fucking quiet”  he flipped you on your stomach, your legs dangling of the table when you writhed under his punishing grip– pushing your face down against the wood, bending you over it. “Whaddya think baby?” 

As if he had enough of just looking you felt him flip your skirt up with his vacant hand, and yelped when his palm came down harshly on the flesh of your ass, the sting only egging on your tears of desperation. “You know what I think baby? Think I needa fuck some manners into you.” He smoothed his hands up and down your warm thighs, fingers finding the soaked fabric of your panties as you moaned and sighed above him. He knew what he did to you and he loved it. “Can pretend there's anything in that head of yours besides the thought of goin’ dumb for me”

You lifted your head to look up and behind you, you’d give anything to witness the sight you’d touched yourself to for the past month, but Javier was quick to slam you head back back to where it came from, and send your eyes rolling back into your head as he shoved your soaked panties aside and roughly pushed two fingers into your sopping cunt. "Fuck, look at this tight little pussy, can barley take my fingers." He groaned in your ear, leaning up against you as his digits fucked you at an agonisingly slow pace, just barely soothing the burn of desire building in your core. “Bad girls don’t get a view.” Light headed, you could only squeal, could only hide your face from him as he leaned over to catch a glimpse of your knitted brows and that pout. 

"Y'know how messy y'are baby? Feel how this pussys cryin' for me, drippin' all over my hand?"

You kicked your legs in protest, salty tears streaming down your face and pooling at its side on the wood beneath you. He wasn’t happy when he found you pushing back against his fingers, grinding helplessly on them. For a moment you thought your wish was granted, but he was only yanking you off the desk so you could have your back flush against him, and he could get his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Still languidly pumping his fingers in and out of your soaking pussy he turned your face to meet his, and sneered as his palm collided with the side of your cheek. 

Smack 

“Watch it” You wanted to be a brat, wanted to defy him, but it was all too much to handle at once. You felt fuzzy all over, and who were you kidding you were always going dumb for him. Besides, how could you even keep your mind steady, not when you felt his hard length against you. You gazed right up at him, pushed back against him, eyes rolling back into your head as you did. He only laughed. “Oh baby, think it's gonna be that easy? Think ‘m gonna let you cum jus’ like that? After you've run me up the wall?” He squeezed your breast in his palm, bending you back over the table, now more gently, extending the olive branch, giving you a chance to repent. “‘M not a needy slut like you baby, those little tricks ain't’ gonna work” Javier was an asshole, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting to ruin you. But first he wanted to have a little fun. 

“Please, please, promise I'll be good.” He hummed, pretending like he was debating whether he was going to give into your pleas yet. He wasn't. He wanted to soak in the sight– you splayed out on his desk, begging him to fuck you sensless, his hands roaming your body torturously teasing you as your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping for him. 

“So now ya wanna be good? Well baby I'm not buyin it yet. Gonna take a lot more convincing than that.” His fingers found your clothed cunt once again, drawing soft circles on your clit. You wailed, knuckles going white when you gripped the table edge in front of you. "Feels good doesnt' it babygirl, I know, feels so good when you finally fucking listen." You pushed back against his fingers, practically humping his hand. The tears were back, and he loved them. “Aw, poor baby, too much?” He wasn’t asking, and you knew he didn’t care what you had to say anyway. He wanted one response, and you were far too wound up not to give it to him. 

“Please please please. Won't be a brat, wanna be your good girl.” He kept you waiting and distraught, fingers still rubbing you through your panties as he spoke, knowing very well you could barely concentrate when he touched you, the squelching of your wetness only drove you towards the edge. “Now babygirl, you're gonna listen, and you're gonna listen good, and do exactly what I say. Ya hear?” You nodded your head vigorously, but a smack to your ass reminded you to use your words. “Yes. promise” He laughed. “Such an easy little slut.” You heard the jingle of his belt behind you. 

You shivered when you felt his cock drag against your drenched cunt, tip bumping your clit with every pass as he wet himself with your slick. Your hips moved frantically, unable to get enough of the friction, but he held you back just enough, to where you would remain unsatisfied and frustrated.“Say" I'm sorry daddy. I'm sorry for being a tease.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and the command alone was enough to send you over the edge. 

“‘m sorry for being a tease daddy ” 

“Say “I'm Sorry for being an easy whore”” 

“M’ sorry for being an easy whore” You’d never been more shy in your life, forget around Javier, who could never guess you had it in you. “That’s my good little slut.” But the way he was speaking to you, teasing, mocking, telling you what to do, what to say– you were hot all over with humiliation. You hid your face, pretty much smashing your forehead against the table, making sure no matter how far he lent he couldn't see the way you were coming undone under him. 

He could probably sense it, though, especially by the way you reacted to his little praise. “That's it babygirl. Comin around now are we?” You didn't want him to have that on you, but you were lucky, in a way, because he didn’t care much to tease you anymore. He grabbed your hips harshly and with a rough thrust of his hips he was fucking you into the mahogany desk, your ribs bruising as he held you down against it. He wasn’t wasting any time, wasn’t stopping or going slow to let you adjust, he was reminding you of how tightly you’d wound him up.“So fuckin tight” his voice was a strained whisper behind you, and you made a noise you could barely recognise as your own at his words. “Hurts” you were whining again,this time at the sting,  and you knew he didn’t care but you couldn’t help yourself. “Yeah baby hurts when daddy stuffs you full of his cock? My poor thing.. But you like it don't you babygirl? Like it when I stretch you open” he wasn’t wrong. The feeling of him splitting you open had turned you into a puddle, a moaning mess. “”S too big” his hands smoothed up and down your back erratically.  “I know baby, I know, but you’re gonna take it aren’t you? Gonna take it how I give it to you dirty little girl?” You were, you took it how he gave it to you. “Gonna ruin this pretty lil pussy” He squeezed the flesh of your hips till you squeaked, the pain only adding to the pleasure as his hips smacked against yours. 

You felt your legs shake as his cock pounded your aching pussy. “Jus’ needed daddy to fuck all that brattiness outta ya huh?” You nodded your head and he cooed at the way you melted into his touch. “Oh baby, that’s it, just like that.” Gazing up with hooded eyes you caught his reflection in the glass of his office window, half illuminated by the dim lighting– his own face scrunched up with pleasure. The sight only had you fucking back against him. You felt like jello, your heart pitter pattering at his little praise. 

“My good little slut” 

Wrapping his arm around you he grabbed your face roughly again, dragging you up and against his chest again. 

“My slut, hear me?” 

Yours, yours, yours 

Your brain was a fog, and the only thing you could focus on was the way his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you, making you clench around him as that burn built in your core– a string of incoherent “daddy’s” being the only thing you could manage to get out your mouth.  “My dumb fuckin baby, my whore, squeezin’ my cock”. You repeated like a broken record; “daddy’s, daddy’s daddy’s”, the feeling of your slick running down your thighs making you go dizzy. 

“Look at you, daddy’s little cumdump” your cheeks were burning, your eyes barley staying open. He pulled your face up from the desk. “Can barely look straight huh baby? Gettin all cock drunk on me.” You made out his dark eyes in the reflection. But you couldn’t bear to meet them. It didn’t matter. He was always looking at you.

“Only for you daddy”

Your release was building, like an inextinguishable fire, your pussy throbbing with need, just begging for it, and he knew it too, the way your walls quivered around him, the way you were moaning and panting, whispering soft calls of “daddy” when he held you against him. “Gonna cum babygirl? Gonna cum on my cock, bent over my desk? When ’m usin’ ya like a fuckin toy?” 

Your body went lax in his arms as you came, your lips parting in a wordless cry, eyes fluttering shut. “That's it… cum for me”. You cherished that almost gentle encouragement as you came undone, tummy swarming with butterflies as you shook in his arms. He was still fucking into your sensitive pussy, pushing you further into the desk as he neared his release. You heard a strained curse behind you, before he was fucking you full of his cum in deep, hard thrusts, your legs dangled off the table as you milked his cock. Shivering at the feeling you closed your eyes, his spend leaked out of your sore pussy when he pulled out, dripping down your inner thighs obscenely. You heard his belt jingle again as he caught his breath behind you, and you felt silly for the way you missed his warmth when it was replaced by the chilled office air. He quickly shifted your panties back in place, making sure you stayed stuffed full of his cum. You winced when he smacked your pussy lightly. Raising your head you caught his reflection again, but you hid your face back against the desk almost immediately when you saw the way he admired his work in the reflection, like he could see the way he’d fucked the brattiness out of you. 

With closed eyes you hummed as he turned you over and sat you on the desk. Now that you’d finally got Javier’s attention you were satisfied– all sleepy and fucked out. You wished he’d hold you, but you had to remind yourself fucking you hadn’t taken the asshole out of him. He was still Javier. Hardass DEA attaché Javier. You sat there for a while, and when you opened your eyes you saw him picking up his blazer and briefcase. 

“If you're not up in 10 seconds I'm leavin’ ya here.” He was back to usual in a moment, and in your fuzzy little head you heard a well meaningness in that tone. “In those messy panties.” You pouted at his words, once again, and he watched as you hopped off the table, rubbing your eyes as you gathered your things, albeit clumsily–your knees wobbly to the point where you could see Javier’s smirk behind you as you shoved your laptop into your bag. 

Turning off the table lamp he motioned with his head for you to get moving along, and you rolled your eyes at him as you walked out the door, stumbling slightly as you did. He gave you what you now recognised as that look, brows raised, and you didn’t have the energy at the moment to be combative. 

Maybe you didn’t want to be. 

“Come on now, runalong”

—

My old man is a thief, and

I'm gonna stay and pray with him 'til the end

But I trust in the decision of the Lord, to watch over us

Take him when He may, if He may

I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

And we're off to the races, places

Ready, set, the gate is down and now we're goin' in

To Las Vegas, chaos, Casino Oasis

Honey, it is time to spin

Boy, you're so crazy, baby

I love you forever, not maybe

You are my one true love

You are my one true love

You are my one true love

Let me know what you think please!! I’d love to hear your nasty thots. I really hope you lovelies liked it. Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work. You keep me writing! Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗💗🐝🐝

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Part 5: Wherever You Take Me

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: The cookout gets hot and dinner with Sy is a revelation. Plus, you get to see his place. 😏

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Fluff, Angst, Reader has PCOS, talk of infertility, talk of war, daydreaming about shower sex, anal play, natural hairstyles, clothes kink if you squint, voice/dirty talk kink, Graphic depiciton of sex. Woman on top, size kink, slight choking, squirting, nipple play, begging, raw p in v, copious amounts of cum. I did not mean to disparage yoga in any way.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the fifth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

———-

To say Sy had you shook was an understatement. You woke up expecting to find him there, but then you remembered saying a groggy ‘goodbye’ to him almost as soon as you hit the bed after the workout he gave you in the shower. 

You lay in bed as your anxiety spiked and wondered if he took that as a dismissal. You hoped that he didn't think that you didn’t want him around. But you didn’t want him to think that you were going to just fall into his arms.

You just didn’t know what to do with these old/new crazy feelings for Sy. How well did you really know him? You knew the kid from 20 years ago, but he broke your heart. How careful would grown ass man Sy be with your love? And would he still want you if he knew the entire truth?

You decided to relax and stretch and clear your mind of all the clutter. Yes, yoga was the perfect antidote to Jacob Syverson.

—---

Yoga failed you miserably.

You found yourself checking for Sy as soon as you arrived at the cookout. You socialized as you lowkey searched for him at the function, and when you realized he wasn’t there yet, you inhaled a whiff of the shirt you were wearing for the dopamine hits. It was his dress shirt from the night before that you tore off of him and that you were wearing over your tube top and jean shorts. You couldn’t help it if he left it there and it was the perfect complement for your outfit.

It was well past noon and he hadn’t arrived. You chewed your lip and let anxiety in again. You avoided questions from Carla and Tiffani about what happened, and your mind drifted to how he’d handled you last night. 

Sy’s soapy hands were all over you, pulling on your wet nipples, grabbing your wet hair as his mouth attacked your neck, and sliding over your body under the hot stream of water. He was a quick study, and at the point of your fifth orgasm, it felt as if he knew your body better than you. 

And you let him take possession. 

His slippery fingers toyed with and penetrated your ass as he fucked you senseless against the wet tile, ramming his thick cock inside you again and again as you begged for more. You came again, harder than you ever had, and afterward your energy drained out of you just like his cum streaming down your legs. He had to dry you off and carry you to bed, all the while leaving sweet kisses all over you.

You’d never felt so…loved...and in trouble.

As soon as your towel covered head hit the pillow, you were out like a light. You didn’t see Sy’s look of adoration, didn’t feel the kiss on the forehead that he gave you as he whispered “Sweet dreams,” and his chest puffed out with pride at having put you to sleep, a cocky smirk on his face as he let himself out and strode toward the Bronco. You were snoring softly.

You were busy reliving the experience of the night before, relishing the slight soreness of your body as Carla and Tiffani chattered around you. You weren’t really present until fingers started snapping in front of your face.

“Come back to earth…”

“Oh shit,” you giggled, “sorry, Carla. What were you saying?”

Both of your besties laughed at you.

“Umm hmm. Yeah. Well you answered the question without answering it. That dreamy look on your face says it all.”

You just smiled, rolled your eyes and sipped your cider.

“I’m just chilling. Sy and I had a good talk, and a good time last night. We buried the hatchet.”

Carla and Tiffani exchanged looks.

“I bet you did. I bet you buried it hard. And deep.”

You scoffed at them both, but Carla was unswayed. 

“Tell us, Buttercup. Exactly what size hatchet does Jacob Syverson carry?”

You shook your head and took another drink, rolling at your friends’ ridiculousness.

”Well, if you don’t want to give the details about Sy’s dick, you’ve got to tell us the story of that hair.” 

Carla nodded toward your thick cornrows.

“Did Sy mess it up so badly that you had to detangle in the shower, or did you get tangled up with Sy in the shower?”

Your cheeks heated as you took another swig and scanned the park to avoid answering your intuitive friends. And when you saw the Bronco, you almost choked.

You put your beverage down and straightened up, patting your head. Sy had arrived.

“Does it look alright?”

“It looks dope,” Tiffani looked around to see Betty Bronco pulling into a parking spot.

“Oh shit, she is sprung. This is gonna be good.”

Their teasing faded into the background as you watched Sy unfold out of Betty Bronco and were reminded of the night before as he ran his hand over his beard. That beard. How wet that beard got last night. Both in and out of the shower… 

You took in the vision of this man who indeed had you sprung after one night. You sighed when you saw him come toward you. Although he was dressed simply, a dark grey t-shirt and jeans, he looked like the best thing you’d seen in ages.

Damn, he was hot. Or was it that you’d just spent too much time in the sun? He strode toward you and the way his body moved was dangerous. You felt that you would hit your knees with the slighted signal from him. 

Sy was indeed hot. And you may have also had sunstroke. Both things could be true. What else would explain the way your heart was beating and the weird feeling in your stomach?

Yes. Sunstroke it was. And lust. And nothing else.

Your friends’ laughter pierced your reverie and you got up to meet him before he reached the group.

—------

Sy got home that morning and fell into his bed, daydreaming of having you in it. It was 4 am, and he fully intended on sleeping just a few hours, then waking up and sending you a good morning text.

Soon he was dead to the world.

The next thing he knew, it was 11:30, too late for a morning text. He would just have to greet you in person at the cookout. He got out of bed to get ready, taking extra time with his hair and beard. He hadn’t cared this much about how he looked since high school. He hadn’t cared this much about anything since you. He wanted to be the one that you wanted. If it was a quarter of the way he wanted you, he’d be a lucky man.

Plans rolled around in his head as he rolled toward you in Betty Bronco, but also uncertainty. Was this just a trip down memory lane for you? Just a whim of a weekend, a chance to experience everything you didn’t 20 years ago? 

Whatever this was, he wasn’t going to waste any time. 

When Sy pulled up at the event almost an hour late, lo and behold, there you were. His eyes fell on you, a vision in his white shirt, your lips wrapped around what looked like a beer bottle. Your hair was different. Sexy. But then again, every look was sexy on you it seemed.

“Well, ain’t that a daisy.”

His heart did a thing and he took a beat, trying to be cool. Sy thanked his lucky stars before he got out of the Bronco, his destination not even a question.

—--

You met him under a live oak tree, a few feet from the picnic tables. Carla and Tiffany and a couple of other people called hello to him, but he just nodded and waved at them as he focused on you.

You in his shirt was one thing, but the tube top and shorts you were wearing, he felt as if he hit the jackpot as his eyes feasted on your curves. He licked his lips as if to recall the taste of some of them.

You stood there as Sy’s eyes roamed your body possessively, and although it was 82 degrees, you shivered. Maybe you were getting the flu.

“Hullo there, Buttercup.”

Sy beamed down at you and you screamed at him in your mind as you flushed hot again. ‘Where have you been!? Why did you leave!?’

But instead you just said, “Hello, Sy.”

You grinned back up at him, suddenly okay. More than okay. Sy’s attention was a powerful drug and you’d forgotten that you were an addict. You wanted it all the time. 

“‘D’you sleep well?”

You bit your lip and grinned again as you played with the collar of the shirt you were wearing. Sy could glimpse a hickey that he’d put on your collarbone and he felt the urge to take you behind the tree and give you more. You had some powerful magic.

“Yes. Very.”

He took off his sunglasses then and stepped closer to you. His smile was contagious.

“I’m glad. You were knocked out when I left. Seemed tired.”

Your smile dropped as you chewed your lip.

“Yeah, about that. I didn’t mean to kick you out.”

Sy shifted his stance closer to you.

“You didn’t kick me out, Buttercup. You were exhausted. I said I was going to give you space.”

“You did?”

You stared at him, wide eyed. He chuckled.

“You don’t remember that, do you?”

You sighed in relief and looked at the ground, cheeks heated.

“No.”

Your voice was small and Sy’s heart lurched, He had hope. Maybe you did have feelings for him other than lust if you thought you’d hurt his. He reached for your hand, just your fingers really, and caressed them softly. He smiled at you when you looked up at him again.

“It’s okay, Buttercup. Really. I got some rest. And If I’d stayed, I have a feeling that we would still be in bed right now.”

The deep timbre of his voice and the affirmation of what you already knew had you shook, imagining a morning in bed with Sy. You went silent, staring up at him with those eyes. His cock stirred. Shit, you were so hot when you went lust-mute. He cleared his throat.

“I like your hair.”

Sy nodded at you.

“Thanks. Got a little wet last night, had to do something…”

Sy smiled at the shower memories.

“Looks great. Like your outfit, too.”

He adjusted the collar of the shirt you were weating, eyes sweeping down your form to get a look at you underneath it. He knew that all he had to do was hook his finger in your tube top and your breasts would spill out. He licked his lips as he regarded you, eyes shining with need when he looked back up into your eyes.

Your mouth opened as if for air as you stood stock still, like a deer caught in headlights. You wanted the same things he did. Damn. You were dickmatized.

“I can see what you’re thinking, Buttercup. But everyone is watching us.”

You huffed out a breath, moved closer, grabbing his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. You heard some people murmur and your friends high five and laugh behind you.

Sy felt triumphant. He grabbed your waist and kissed you back. Thoroughly. Then you pulled back, out of breath.

“You’re right. Everyone is watching.”

Sy brought his hand up to the back of your head and looked into your eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

The gruff whisper went straight to your cunt as he pulled you back in for another kiss. 

He finally pulled away and you were still holding on to the stainless steel chain of his dog tags. You looked up at him, ready to ditch the cookout on a word from him.

“Didn’t you get enough last night?”

You were posing the question to yourself, as well as Sy.

Sy inhaled oxygen, because he was drowning in your vibe right now. He grunted.

“Hm. I thought you understood, Buttercup. I will never get enough.”

Another kiss. You whimpered and he just knew that you were wet for him.

“I just want to haul you in the back of Betty right now, but we’re gonna do this thing today. Tonight we’ll go out for dinner, right?”

You nodded, licking your lips as he released your waist and took your hand, leading you back to the table.

—---

You all were sitting around the table playing cards a couple of hours later with your old friend group when someone pointed at Sy’s arms.

“What happened to you, Sy? Did you get attacked by a wild animal?”

Sy looked down at the scratches you left on him with pride, smirked and started to answer, ignoring the look from you.

“Well… Sorta. Kinda. You know I like to live dangerously.”

The wink he threw the questioner was for you, however, and you knew it.

“Sy, you’re too much!”

“Funny thing. Someone said that to me recently.”

You tugged on Sy’s hand.

“Excuse us for a minute, please.”

You gave them your best dignified smile, even though you hot. Sy was chuckling as he followed you back to the live oak tree out of earshot of the group. All they could see was that he was laughing now and everyone could tell that you were giving him the business.

Your friends watched you two and smiled.

Sy put his hands up and nodded, still laughing. You turned away from him, but he grabbed your hand as you tried to walk away. You turned around, annoyed, but then he pointed to his lips, suddenly serious. You gazed at them, smiled and then reached up to kiss him, then pulled away and flipped him off. He laughed again.

"Promise?"  Sy called after you. 

You flipped him off again but grinned as you rejoined the table and Sy went to get more beer. 

“So, when’s the wedding?”

“Shut the fuck up, Carla!”

—---

You let Sy pick you up that evening, and the mood was subdued. He complimented your dress and kissed you on the cheek, careful of your makeup, which you’d carefully applied. Your hair was curly again, the braid-out giving you the look that you wanted. You were quiet as you looked out of the window.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Buttercup.”

You looked at him, anxiety written all over your face.

“Today was a lot.”

Sy looked back at you.

“Today was fun.”

You sighed.

“It was. A lot of fun hanging with our friends. It was like we were a couple. Carla asked… Well, I think people think we’re a thing. They expect us to…”

Sy understood. You were spooked.

“I see. Well, if you want to know, Buttercup, in my head we are a thing, but I know you aren’t there yet. I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not…!”

“It’s okay to be scared. We’ve been through a lot. Name it for what it is. I am not into bullshitting. Especially with someone I love.”

That sentence shut your mouth.

“And I don’t give a fuck what people expect us to do. I want to enjoy any time you grace me with. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Sy picked up your hand from the leather seat and brought the back of it to his mouth. The tender kiss went straight to your soul.

“Just be here now. I mean, we can talk about the past, or the future if you want. But let’s take it one step at a time.”

You smiled at him as he pulled you closer to him and as he kissed up your arm.

“Okay.”

Somehow, you wound up with your head on his shoulder as you drove to the restaurant.

—--

The restaurant was nice, Meyers on the River, and it was a great atmosphere as you and Sy ate on the deck overlooking the lake. You chatted, filling in some of the blank spaces of your lives.

You asked a question that had been nagging you as you ate your salmon.

“Did you- did you go all in during the war? Did you agree with all of that? I mean, almost 20 years Sy. I feel like you had to have a certain kind of mindset to do that.”

Sy shook his head, leaned back, and sighed.

“It was a job. With good benefits. And my family had been enlisted, my uncle Mike. I went and after I found out about Jeremiah, I just dedicated myself to my job over there. I channeled the feelings that I had in order to prepare myself to be a father to being a leader. My men were under my care. It was hell. Hot, sweaty, full of hate. So I became Syverson, the asshole Captain who got the job done. I survived.”

Sy shrugged and toyed with his napkin. 

“There were problems to be solved. And most of the time we solved them.”

You took in what he said and saw there was something deeper there.

“I’m glad that you are back home now.”

He smiled at you.

“Me too. Everything happens for a reason, Buttercup.”

You smiled back and thought about what he said. He was right.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

You sat back in your chair, trying to prepare yourself.

“How do you feel about never having kids? I know about your losses, and you don’t have to talk about it….”

This was part of the reason why you were so hesitant with this relationship. You took a deep breath and decided to name it.

“No. We need to talk about it. It might change your mind about me… us…

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“Doubt that.”

“Just wait until I’m done, Sy.”

“Okay.”

“I have PCOS, Sy. It’s a condition that makes it very hard to get or stay pregnant. I’ve been through surgeries and meds, natural methods. The stress of my relationship also didn't help me to have healthy pregnancies. We were going to do in-vitro, but when I found out about the second mistress, I was done. Scott and I divorced and I was content to be by myself. The condition can be progressive. It’s why I take the pill everyday.”

You looked into Sy’s eyes.

“I don’t know if I will ever be able to have a baby. And I’m certainly not getting any younger.”

“I’m sorry, all that has happened to you Buttercup. But none of this changes a thing about how I feel about you or us. I still want you. I still kinda feel like forever with you.”

Sy had your hand across the table now and watched as the smile spread across your face. Something shifted inside you. Sy knew everything and he still wanted you. Maybe this could be a thing. You wanted to say so much, but instead, you just nodded at his plate.

“Finish your steak.”

Sy grinned at you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The conversation different, lighter after that. The chef came out and you spoke, then he comped your meal.

“I will never thank you enough for helping this place to happen Mr. Syverson.”

You looked at Sy quizzically.

“We solved that problem, didn’t we Ben?”

“Yes! Come back and bring your beautiful lady any time!”

“Will do, Ben. Will do.”

Sy stood up and shook his hand, then left what he would have spent on dinner as a tip. You walked out hand in hand as you looked at his profile. 

“I haven’t told you about my business. I used my payout from retirement and my injury to start a construction company. Captain Construction. We make a pretty good living. And we help folks out when we can.”

You scooted closer to him on the seat.

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I don’t know. I feel like you are in my soul though, so…”

You gave Sy a peck on the lips, and he chased you for more.

“Want me to take you back to your place? Or would you like to see my house? Built it myself.”

You looked up in the air, as if it were even a choice.

“I want to see your house. You’ve got me curious.”

Sy grinned and started the truck. Then he shook his head and turned it off again.

“Ok, no bullshitting. If I take you to my place, I’m not gonna wanna take you back until daylight tomorrow. And maybe not even then.”

“I’ll go wherever you take me, Sy.”

—-

“Please Buttercup. I’m just a mere mortal. I can’t take this.”

You loved the way his voice broke and how Sy’s eyes were glued to your body, your glowing skin, your breasts swaying with each movement, your hand which was clutching him between your luscious thighs, which were on either side of his pelvis. You were pumping his engorged and weeping cock, teasing him, and yourself, by bouncing on just the tip, your small fist preventing full penetration. 

Sy’s hands were grasping the steel bars of his headboard, stuck there by the promise he made you when you began the end of his house tour. It was a beautiful home, and now you were about to fuck his beautiful cock.

But you were testing his patience. His knuckles were white, and his biceps and pecs were flexed, forearms straining to hold back. His abs were tensed and he was gritting his teeth as he tried to respect your request, but he didn’t know that his struggle was the sexiest part.

“Hmmmm. I think this feels as good to you as it does to me, Sy.”

Sy looked to where you were connected, silently willing you to let him enter you fully. He growled.

“Please, it can feel so much better. Fuck me, Buttecup. I’m yours.”

You keened as you worked yourself open on him.

“Loot at me baby. Please. Need to see your pretty little fucked out face.”

You moaned and did as he asked. You spoke with him, halfway incoherent with pleasure as you slid down his cock.

“So, fucking hugeee. I love this big dick, Sy.”

Sy groaned as you clenched around him.

“It’s yours.”

He licked his lips as he gazed at you opening up for him. Your slick cunt clenching his cock was the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“I love that tight little pussy. Is it mine?”

You reached up and grabbed his shoulders as you adjusted to his size again. You looked into his dilated eyes and gave him a kiss in response.

“Shit is so fucking big. Ah.”

Sy was quivering beneath you, still holding back from going crazy on you. While he wanted to fuck you silly, he also wanted to savor this slow sensuality with you.

“Feels amazing,” you stared down into his blazing blue eyes as you slowly circled your hips.

“Yes, it does. Holy shit it does..”

You leaned down, kissed him and started moving. Sy watched your breasts as you arched backwards and he planted his feet to fuck up into you better.

“Oh! Sy! Feel so full. So good.”

Sy growled and let the bed go, causing a grin at his loss of control. He wrapped his arms around you and held you in place as his hips moved at the devil's pace. The sound of his dick breaching your wet pussy was everything. Skin slapping on skin was the music of your heartbeats at the moment. Sy’s hand found your clit and traced wicked circles there as he pounded you out, making your eyes spark as if with stars. 

“F-f-f- u-u-u-ck! I’m- I’m coming!”

It was embarrassing how quickly he had you there.

“Give me that shit, Buttercup.”

He stroked you through your peak as you gushed around him.

“Fuck. Got my balls dripping with you. This is my dream come true baby. Gimme more.”

He sat up, grabbing your ribcage and moving you up and down his now even slicker, impossibly bigger, cock.

“Shhitttt you feel so good!”

Sy looked down and then up at the ceiling, eyes rolling at the sight. He was about to cum. He manhandled you like a rag doll so that he could kiss you. Hard.

“You are hotter than the desert, Buttercup.”

Your hands moved up his abs to his pecs, rubbing your palms on his nipples as he growled and reached for you. He pulled on your sweaty breasts until your nipples remained pinched between his fingers.

“Ahhhhhh, Sy!” 

You moaned and rolled your hips as he pulled on your sensitive nubs.

“Love your fucking sounds, Buttercup.”

His hand was sliding up the column of your throat now, manhandling you in the way you’d come to love in such a short time. You moaned and Sy felt the vibrations of your voice box on his palm.

“You are so goddamn pretty when you are impaled on my cock. Can’t get enough of you.”

Sy leaned back on one arm so that he could pound you the way he wanted. 

“Fuck, want my cum, Buttercup?”

You were circling your own clit and squeezing your breasts at the same time. 

“God, yes, Sy. Give it to me!”

“Here it comes, godamn….!”

You felt his ropes of cum spurt against your cervix as he came forcefully inside you. Sy looked down to see it and your own juices eek out of you as he kept pulsling inside you.

“It’s like it’s never gonna end, fuck! Got so much for you Buttercup.”

You reached down and played in your combined slick as he pulsed again, bringing your fingers up to taste as Sy finally finished coming.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that right?”

You grinned and kissed him, as you collapsed on the bed reveling in your wet, sweaty bodies as he held you close. You wriggled out of his grip.

“Time for a shower, Sy.”

You smiled as you walked into his en suite, seeing him hot on your heels.

“Damn if I don’t die a happy man.”

You laughed at Sy as he got your hair wet again.

------

Hit Reblog if you like it!

Next part here

[mobiushusband]

thinking about Vladimir Makarov who’s just a sucker for older guys blheeee i’m so silly :PPPP

Okay but think about it— The man has issues, we all know that, and he’s a momma’s boy without a decent father figure— Or absolutely non for the matter.

And then there’s you, his second in command, his right-hand man, his most trusted ally and closest friend that had been with him through thin and thick, and also, you casually came to be an older man. The age gap between you two isn’t crazy, but enough to have him stealing glances from you. He has never actually asked how old are you, but taking in consideration the few white hairs that had been starting to grow in your thick beard and in your hair, he would guess that you’re around your first or mid forties.

You’ve worked for and with him since the beginning, always around for him, with those dad vibes that sometimes just made excitement lick up his spine. He would never admit it, but he loved the casual ‘good job, son’ you would throw at him from time to time whenever he did a good planning that made the mission be successful, a hand gently squeezing his shoulder as your taller frame loomed over him. How you would stand out for him whenever a soldier was misbehaving and trying to mock him or make him feel less just because he was young and full of ambitions— There’s immediately a hand wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him back towards your chest and shooting a death look at the soldier who had tried to disrespect him. He never asked why he never saw the soldier again after that.

He would be damned if him himself ever admitted that he sometimes, and just sometimes, procured in making an specially good speech for his men, just so he could go back to your shared office after that just to find you there, leaning against your desk with a cigarette in hand, a proud, soft smile dangling from your lips as you gently ruffled his hair in a fatherly way. “You really putted some effort in that, huh, kiddo?” You would playfully say, knowing how much it annoyed him whenever you called him that. “I’m proud of you. Those men couldn’t have a better leader.” You would then say, your hand lingering in his hair a moment later just to pull away and go back into business.

Vladimir had known that he had a thing for older men a long time now— Probably since he was in high school and had a boner when he saw his hot history teacher rolling his sleeves up. He had never really payed too much mind to it, however, thinking that it was something of the age. And oh, it definitely wasn’t. But he only realized that only after letting one of his men, Ivan, fuck him senseless in his first year of starting his criminal organization.

Now here you were, both of you staying late at night in your shared office, empty bottles of different alcohols spreaded all over the coffee table in front of the small couch there was in the office, soft, drunk chuckles emerging from the bottom of yours and Makarov’s chest after a succesful mission. He leaned back in the couch, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a vodka bottle as he took a sloppy drink from it. “I’m-I’m serious, (Y/n).” The russian stumbled with his words, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he readjusted himself in the couch to look at you. “How does that even works? I mean— Chickens are birds, but they don’t fly! How useless are they?” He huffed, falling silent for a brief moment just so he could bring the bottle up to his lips again.

You simply chuckled, low and seductive at Makarov’s ears, at how silly the younger man got every time he putted alcohol in his system. You shook your head to the sides, leaning forward to snatch the bottle from Makarov’s hand to take a sip of your own. “Why are we even talking about this?” You asked between laughs as the burning feeling of the alcohol going down your throat numbed your senses. With half-open lids, Makarov looked up to you, his words stucking in the back for his throat for a moment. God, why did you have to be so hot? Your handsome factions, a sharp jaw covered in black-white stubble that made him want to nibble on it, thin lips that looked red and wet for constantly licking them, messy black hair with white strands that shone under the tenuous light of the room, big, muscular arms covered in black furr that looked just so perfect to wrap around his neck as you pounded on him— And don’t make him get started with your hands and the rest of you.

“… I think I’ve some issues. Serious ones.” He suddenly mumbled his answer to your question, his eyes driving up and down your body until they eventually fell on your own (e/c) once again. You raised an eyebrow to his words, pulling the bottle off your mouth with a wet sound. “Why do you say that?” You asked back, titling your head to the side and allowing yourself to rest the side of your body against the comfy couch, now both of you face to face as Vladimir popped his head in the knuckles, his elbow digging into the back of the couch. “Because…” He began, but trailed off mid-sentence.

He was drunk, he told to himself, and so were you. If he did a move on you right now, you probably wouldn’t even remember the next morning. But was he willing to take the risk? What if he made a move and fucked up everything? If he threw away all those years of friendship you have gave him? If he lost you?

The thought sent a shiver running down his spine, his eyes ripping away from yours as he thought about what he wanted to do. He was already starting to feel that familiar heat pooling in his lower belly, his legs growing restless and pressing together from time to time. There was so many things he could lost— “… Because I think I want you to fuck me.” He bluntly said, staring right into your eyes. Fuck it, he thought to himself, I can always force him to stay with me if he rejects me. He was drunk out of his ass, you were drunk out of your ass, you both were the only ones probably in the whole place— He could not let this chance go away. The alcohol had took such a tool over him, that he didn’t even feel nervous while he awaited for your reaction.

In anyway, soon enough he discovered that he wouldn’t be needing to pull the move of threatening you, because just after a few seconds of you staring at him with wide eyes and in total silence, you left the bottle on the coffee table; the same hand that had been holding the bottle now sliding to brush against his thigh. “Thought you would never ask, sweetheart.” You whispered back, and Vladimir would be damned if he ever admitted that he got hard just for hearing you say that.

The feelings he had been hiding within him were suddenly too much to handle, and in a blink he was leaning forward with his hands grabbing the collar of your shirt, his mouth crashing with yours in a desperate, needy kiss that was all tongue and teeth at first. Your own hands went to grab his hips, providing a gentle squeeze as he changed his position and got on his knees on the couch, quickly straddling your lap without breaking away from the kiss.

His hand went to wrap around your neck, his possessiveness and need for control hitting him all of sudden like a brick wall. His hand wasn’t large enough to totally wrap around your neck and choke you efficiently, so he thought that scratching the back of your neck with it would be enough for now. “You’re mine, you hear me? Mine.” He whispered against your mouth, hearing you growl and shiver against his lips as he eventually figured out, through his drunk cloud, that he could use both of his hands to wrap around your neck. “Have been yours for a long time, love.” You answered, your own hands going to gently knead at his bubble ass.

The confession made his cock immediately go hard, a painfully noticeable bulge now in his slacks. He couldn’t help but grind down against you, his cock coming in contact with your own hard dick. He smiled playfully at that. “Maybe we should get drunk more often.” He teased after breaking away from the kiss, your hot, ragged breath hovering over his mouth. You returned the smile, giving a testing thrust up just to see his reaction, totally delighted with the pretty groan that fell from Vladimir’s lips. “My pretty boy...” You growled, pulling him down into another bruising kiss. Makarov would deny forever and ever that he whimpered when you called him that.

PD: this is not corrected nor revised, so sorry for any mistake. English is not my first language either!!! And probably this is a bit ooc but i don’t care. Thank u x reading my silly thoughts :33333

[wongyuseokie]

Tall Hot Boyfie and His Tall Hot Friend | k.m.g | k.s.w

Summary: Your boyfriend has been neglecting you for long enough, and you decide to take things into your own hands. Is it your fault that your boyfriend’s very attractive colleague is there the night you decide to do so? 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 2106 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader x Kim Seokwoo (Rowoon) x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: PWP, smut

Content Warnings: Mentions of alcohol 

Smut Warnings: Kissing, threesome, oral sex (f receiving), finger, rough sex (sorta), squirting, overstimulation, cum eating, very, very brief m x m. Spanking, like once, dirty talk. 

Authors Note 1: Thank you so much to @hwasangelbaby for beta'ing this 💕 Authors Note 2: Look, wbk how bad I am down for Mingyu, but Rowoon--I blame Tomorrow and Destined For You, and in general my love for tall hot men. So this fic happened. Also, I repurposed an old fic to make this heh.

Tagging a few lovlies: @dejavernon, @gyuwoncheol @smileysuh @duhnova @kmgkmg

Cross Posted on AO3

© wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

It was the fourth night in a row when your boyfriend cancelled on you at the last minute. You couldn't be too mad either, being the CEO of the most prestigious banks in Seoul. Kim Seokwoo had a lot of work, and while you usually were patient, you had run out. 

Aside from merely missing dates, he last touched you nearly two weeks ago. Every night he got home, you wanted nothing more than to ask him to fuck you and make you beg for more, scream his name and shiver from overstimulation. 

Except he looked so exhausted from work you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to fuck you senseless. 

“Baby girl, not now. Daddy's too tired” was the same response you'd been getting for at least two weeks. 

You'd been patient, but two weeks was too long, and you needed him. You were done being understanding. You needed him and needed him now, and you weren't taking no for an answer. 

You even offered to take care of him, you just wanted to touch him and sink to your knees and take his cock in your mouth and make him cum, but he shook off your advances. 

“Yes, Mr. Kim, I understand what you're saying, but it's just getting ridiculous that I must explain to the board why I'm making decisions. I'm the fucking CEO.” You heard Seokwoo bellow downstairs. 

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you went downstairs to the living room, where you saw your boyfriend wearing a black suit with his sleeves rolled up and exposing his tanned and toned arms. 

His tie was loosened and just dangling loosely around his neck. You shook your head; you came downstairs to find out what your boyfriend had so worked up. Instead, his appearance got you flustered. 

“Listen to me. Your arrogance is why the board doesn't trust you. Yes, you are the CEO, but you cannot ignore the presence of the board. They are there to help you.” The voice belonged to a man you could only describe as ungodly handsome. His stern gaze and delicate features made you swoon. 

You were a loyal girlfriend, and no one could ever doubt it. You and Seokwoo had your indulgences, and a threesome was on the list of things you both wanted to try yet never had an opportunity to do so, and this beautiful man in front of you was making your head swirl and fueling your wildest dreams. 

The thought of your boyfriend fucking you, making you beg, and while you were sucking off this handsome stranger's cock, made you feel lightheaded. 

“Mingyu-” Seokwoo started to say.

Oh wow, a beautiful name for a handsome man, you thought. 

“Listen, take a break. We can discuss this; let's have a drink. The three of us discuss this calmly.” Mingyu stated calmly, and you realised you had been noticed. 

“Three of us?” Seokwoo questions, keeping his back to you. 

“I believe that is your beautiful girlfriend; you talk about her a lot. It wasn't hard to identify her.” Mingyu casually said. His confidence and calmness stirred something in you. 

“Baby? You know better than to interrupt my meetings,” Seokwoo said sternly, his eyebrow cocking as he expressed his displeasure at you interrupting your meeting. 

Typically, you would apologise and accept your punishment later on. 

Not tonight. 

You didn't know whether it was the lack of intimacy, the handsome stranger or your boyfriend, but you would not be a good girl. You weren't going to behave. You were going to be a brat, and fuck, if Mingyu wanted to watch or join, he could. 

“And you know better than to leave your girlfriend alone for two weeks and not touch her,” you stated calmly and confidently. 

Both men looked shocked for a split second. Seokwoo recovered with a gaze that you only saw when you disobeyed him. Mingyu, on the other hand, got up from his relaxed position on the sofa and extended a hand out to you. 

“Hyung, do I need to teach you everything? I understand you see me as your advisor, but I thought you were more than capable of caring for your lady?” Mingyu teased as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

You were at a loss for words but kept a poker face. Seokwoo, on the other hand, got visibly more annoyed, his jaw clenched.

“Mingyu, I can take care of her just fine.” He spoke back, gritting his teeth. 

“Really? Is that why I haven't had your dick inside me for the last two weeks? Is that why your baby girl had to use her fingers to cum?” You responded while smirking. You didn't know where this newfound sense of boldness came from, but god, did you love it. 

“I believe Mingyu said we should all drink together, so let's do that. It's the least you can do for not fucking me, Daddy,” you said, making Seokwoo hiss in annoyance. 

“Wow! Hyung, you got yourself a bratty one, didn't you?” He laughed and turned his attention to you. 

“Tell me, pretty girl, what's your poison?”

“Whiskey neat,” you responded.

“Hyung, you heard the pretty lady. Get us all a drink, and we can talk about how we can fix several issues,” Mingyu suggested. 

Seokwoo stayed still. He was getting angrier by the minute, but the way you were acting also had his trousers getting tighter, and he wanted nothing more than to put you on your hands and knees and fuck you until you cried his name. 

“Daddy, please, your baby is thirsty. Don't worry, Mingyu can keep me company in the meantime,” you say as you sit on the sofa. Mingyu follows you and sits beside you, still holding your hand. 

Seokwoo growled, and that growl shot straight to your core and instantly started soaking your panties. You rubbed your thighs together in a feeble attempt to relieve yourself. 

The action didn't go unnoticed by either man. Seokwoo responded to your pathetic attempts by walking into the kitchen to grab the drinks while Mingyu slowly stroked your thigh. 

“Baby, don't think I didn't notice you. You got wet from a growl. You are a dirty little whore,” Mingyu praised calmly, smirking. Your arousal and his words had you so confused yet wanting to know more. 

“Hyung, you were right,” Mingyu exclaimed as your boyfriend returned from the kitchen with the drinks in his hand. 

You were so confused.

“What did I tell you? She is a dirty slut. Look at her. She saw her boyfriend and another handsome man, and she's a mess,” Your boyfriend spat, making you whimper.

Feigning innocence, you meekly said, “Seokwoo?” 

Seokwoo glared at you, downed his drink, yanked you out of Mingyu’s arms and placed you on the floor. He leaned down to you, his hot breath fanning your face, and at this point, you were sure your arousal was dripping onto the floor. 

“Baby, you're so needy, and I was going to take care of you tonight, but you couldn't listen and wait. So, whores like you deserve to be punished,” Seokwoo taunted, and your mind was hazy with arousal yet going wild with fantasies. 

As if reading your mind, Seokwoo moved back onto the sofa, grabbed Mingyu by his neck, and kissed his jaw.

“Daddy, please,” you whimpered. 

“Jealous?” Seokwoo taunted, making you whine, and both men scoffed at you, not paying you any attention. You felt so desperate you needed something. You removed your shirt, undid your shorts, and discarded your bra and underwear. You spread your legs and started circling your clit. 

“Daddy, please fuck me,” you let out a soft whimper as you begged,  this time, both men noticed, and neither was impressed. 

“Baby girl, because we have a guest, I won't punish you,” Seokwoo said calmly. He extended his arm out to you, and you grabbed onto it. Seokwoo sat you down between both of them. The position made you giddy, and you couldn't stop squirming. 

“Hyung, let's put the poor girl out of her misery, shall we?” Mingyu suggested as he rose from his seat and started discarding his clothes.

You started drooling when you saw his cock, it was large and thick and curved slightly, and you knew it would hit you in all the right places. 

“Look at her, Hyung. She's already drooling for my cock. Do you want it, pretty girl? My cock in your mouth?” Mingyu teased, and you shook your head furiously, your words failing you. 

At this moment, Seokwoo stood up and stripped himself from the four years of being together. You could never tire of the sight of your boyfriend naked. 

Both men, now naked, took their positions back on the sofa, only this time Mingyu sat slightly far away from you and pushed you back so you were leaning on Seokwoo’s chest. You felt Seokwoo get hard under you, and the thought of it made you tremble. 

Mingyu snaked his large hand down to your breast, slowly rubbing and pinching the nipple. His hands trailed down further to reach your pussy; he teased you. 

Mingyu’s fingers were ghosting your clit and entrance. He finally showed mercy and slid a long finger into your wet pussy. 

“Fuck pretty, so fucking wet,” Mingyu praised as he moved down, hovering over your face and softly kissing you. While he added another finger inside you and started moving his hand against your g-spot. 

It was embarrassing how close you were, but these men had worked you up so much. Mingyu crawled down your body until his lips reached your dripping cunt. 

Mingyu stuck his tongue out and gave your pussy a tentative lick, and you moaned and squirmed about from the teasing, but Seokwoo’s strong arms held you in place. 

Mingyu put you out of your misery almost instantly. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit and sucked and fingered you. He showed no signs of slowing. On the other hand, you were starting to get so close, and you were almost there until Mingyu stopped, leaving you a whimpering mess. 

“No, pretty, if you cum, you cum around my cock,” saying this, Mingyu lined his cock along your swollen and sensitive folds, making you shudder, and without warning, filled you up. 

He showed no mercy and set an animalistic pace; you fell apart and around his cock. Your pussy clenched around him, making him groan and growl, only making him fuck you senseless through your orgasm till he reached his own. 

Mingyu finished, his cum coating your walls and pulled out from you. 

In an instant, Mingyu reattached his lips to your cunt, and pushed his tongue into your cunt. He was collecting his cum on his tongue. You shuddered and nearly cried from the overstimulation. 

You suddenly felt Seokwoo let go of you and fell back onto the sofa. 

Seokwoo grabbed you by your waist and flipped you onto your hands and knees with no time to readjust. Without warning, he pushed himself into you. 

Seokwoo set a pace much like Mingyu, fucking you hard and with no signs of slowing down. He fucked you as your second orgasm hit you, you shook, trembling, but Seokwoo showed no mercy. 

He kept fucking and fucking. You felt something like a coil come undone inside you. You came hard and shook and started whimpering.

“Baby? You okay?” Gone was the dominant Sekokwoo; instead, a loving disposition took over. You nodded, still shaking. 

“Baby girl, you just squirted all over daddy’s cock,” Seokwoo stated, smirking and groaning, and you whined and shivered when Seokwoo slid his cock back inside your pussy, fucking you again as he chased his orgasm. 

“Fuck baby, you are so fucking tight,” Seokwoo moaned.  

Seokwoo’s thrusts started slowing down, and you felt him still and released into your pussy. He quickly scooped up his cum with his long fingers and walked over to Mingyu, and made him suck on his finger, making you whimper at the sight. 

“Well, Hyung, I guess you know how to please your girl,” Mingyu teased as he dressed quickly and left the apartment. 

“Thank you, baby, thank you,” you said breathlessly once the door shut behind Mingyu. 

“Baby?” Seokwoo said incredulously. 

“Baby, after a stunt like that, you think I'm done with you? You’re in trouble now. It’s still Daddy for you,” Seokwoo warned as he picked up your limp body off the sofa, threw you onto his shoulders, and made his way to the bedroom, slapping you on your ass for good measure. 

This night was far from over.

[wxnheart]

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐚𝐩𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

note: please know that I can't say Ghost anymore. I can only say Ghoap. Ghoap is love. Ghoap is life. Ghoaposaurus Rex. part one is here.

Believe it or not, the transition into a full-fledged relationship was as anti-climatic as it could get. Thank Soap for addressing the elephant in the room. ("...So... we're together, right?") Cue Simon grunting and you just shrug your shoulders. ("Sure thing.")

And as much as Ghost loves y'all, he also sees this relationship as the biggest fuck you to his father he can possibly give. Fuck you, old man. You never thought he was capable of this, did you? Miserable bastard.

Initially, he'd freeze up and was a little awkward when you and Soap showered him in attention. He's gotten so used to it now that he doesn't freeze up like he used to, even in public. Simon will stare onlookers down. What the fuck are you looking at? Mad that you don't have two gorgeous-as-sin lovers who fucking adore you and will fuck you senseless? Tough shit, mate.

Ghost has made it a point to never bend over in your presence again. Imagine turning around to see two sets of eyes practically eyefucking him.

But it's not like he's any better. He practically eyefucks you two ALL. THE. TIME. And in typical Ghost fashion.

Soap also gives no fucks and will dole out compliments like it's no one's business. Get used to it, love.

You and Soap have also made it your personal mission to see what makes Simon blush.

And though he's not as touchy-feely in public, Ghost's PDA usually just involves brushing and/or leaning against the two of you.

At home is an altogether different matter. You three absolutely have to be touching in some fashion when you're on the couch.

When they're away, affection for Johnny and Simon is usually a clasp of the shoulder. Usually. Away from prying eyes, however, it's a simple press of their foreheads together for reassurance.

Ghost and Soap absolutely love it when you wear their shirts to bed. Goes doubly so when they're away on duty.

They'll also get worried if they don't hear from you (be it through text or call) at least once a day.

You found out firsthand that Johnny is the one who will fight for your honor in a pub bathroom. Simon just wants to go outside and talk. Yep.

Though Ghost will never admit it, since getting with you two, the nightmares of his childhood and the echoes of his father's words have lessened considerably. He hesitates to talk about his life out of fear of you two leaving him. One of these days, he'll tell you everything.

Your lock screen is a picture of you and Soap kissing Simon on his cheeks and he's mid eye-roll. It's so fucking hilarious that Johnny made it his lock screen as well. Simon was NOT impressed.

[jeankluv]

Think I need someone older || Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Words: 2.8k

Summary: Law was resting for a couple of days in a remote island and he has been amazed by you since he saw you the first day.

Warnings: +18, smut, rough sex, p in v, daddy kink (just two times), age difference (law is in his 40s and reader is in her late 20s), pet names, no use of y/n, possessive Law, dom Law, semi-public sex (in a library)

Note: so it’s Law’s birthday tomorrow what better way to celebrate it, than with a smutty one shot of the hottest man in OP.

Materialist

Law was sitting in that old bar from an island he didn’t even remember it’s name. His crew and him were resting in that town after a couple of weeks of sailing across the West Blue. Nothing interesting was happening in that town, ordinary people with ordinary lives. Or at least that’s what he thought when he stepped a foot on that island, until he saw you, a beauty. Law wasn’t a man that would fall on his knees for a woman after only seeing her but for you, he would. Your beauty was unmatchable, never in his years of sailing had he come across with such beauty.

You passed next to him, moving your hips making it impossible for him to look away. The floral dress you were wearing that day, short, showing your long legs, drove him crazy. And ever since that day he couldn’t seem to get the thought of you out of his head. He shook his head and finished his cup. He needed to go to the library of the town and see if he could find some medicine books he was looking for, or else he would have to stop on the next island.

He walked across the streets of the small town, searching for you, trying to see if he could see you on the market. But nothing, you weren’t around. He sighed and went to the library, he opened the door with one hand and the other one holding his katana. He looked around searching for someone that could help him.

“Leave… a client came in. I don’t want to keep talking about this anymore. So you better leave and don’t come back here.” He heard a voice, a female voice.

He waited there, without moving, just looking around at the books that were on the shelves.

“Hi excuse sir. How can I help you?” Law turned around and there you were, as stunning as the first day. You were wearing another floral dress, and your hair was on a braid that fell down on your back. And fucking hell, you were giving him the most beautiful smile.

“Yes, I’m looking for some medicine books.” He said swallowing, you nodded and told him to follow you.

You walked in front of him and you could feel his eyes all over you. Just like the first day when you saw him in town. You couldn’t lie, that man, catched your eye when you first saw him. It looked familiar and of course it was familiar, he used to be one of the famous Super Novas, in the same generation as the King of the Pirates, Monkey D. Luffy. He was in fact, the Surgeon of the Death, Trafalgar Law. You remember your father reading the newspaper years ago and commenting how a group of kids was making a mess in the new world.

But the reason he caught your eye wasn’t because he was a known pirate but because of how hot he was. He was older than you, you knew that but that didn’t stop you from daydreaming with having him touching you, all over your body. You swallowed hardly, trying to get those thoughts away from your head, you were currently at work, you couldn’t be thinking about a hot pirate in his 40s fucking you senseless on the back office of the library.

“Here you have them sir.” You said pointing at the shelves where the medicine books were at. “If you need anything, please call me.” You gave him a smile and turned around.

“Princess, what’s your name?” Princess. “I would like to call you princess, but I don’t think it would be appropriate.” You looked at him and he was looking at you, with hungry eyes and a smirk on his face.

You told him your name and when he repeated with a smile, you could feel yourself melting in that place. You wanted to hear it more, but you needed to focus on work. You turned around and started walking as fast as you could, making your heels click throughout the library. Arriving at your position, you sat down in the chair and sighed. You picked up the book you had halfway started and continued reading it. You read it for about 5 minutes before hearing the door of the entrance opening.

“What are you doing here? I told you like 20 minutes ago to leave.” You closed the door and looked at the person in the door angrily.

“C’mon babe, I got you your favorite.” He said showing you the flowers.

You huffed and rolled your eyes, those weren't your favorites. “Those aren’t my favorite. Now leave, I told you I didn’t want to talk with you anymore.”

“Let’s try to fix it babe, it was a mistake.” He tried holding your hand but you backed off.

“A mistake? So that’s what it’s called cheating on me not once but several times?” You raised your voice. “Fuck you.”

He shook his head and held you from the wrist. “Let’s talk, it won’t happen again alright?”

“Hey kid.” A deep voice talked from the side. “She told you to leave, so you better start leaving.”

“Who the fuck are you?” He looked at him, thinking he would have any chance against him.

“They know me by the nickname of Surgeon of the Death. You want to know why?” Your ex swallowed and let your wrist go after hearing those words, because of course he knew who he was. “Leave and don’t ever come near her or I will show you why they call me that.”

Your ex almost ran away from the library, he didn’t even look at you or say a single word. You were grateful he appeared in that moment and he helped you with that ugly situation.

“Thank you for that.” You looked at him.

“Your wrist…” He said looking at it. “It’s red, let me check it.”

“Oh! No it’s okay, it’s just…”

He held your wrist and pushed you closer to him. “I’m a doctor, so let me take care of you, alright princess?” There it was, once again that nickname. You looked him in the eyes and simply nodded.

He checked your wrist, touching it in different places to make sure it was okay. He nodded and let your wrist go, telling you that it was okay.

“Again, thank you for what you did.” You smiled at him. “My ex… he is kinda a dick.” You gave him a small smile, trying to make it look as normal as possible.

“I see…” He whispered. “That kid shouldn’t be treating you like that. He was the one talking to you when I came in right?” He said laying his back to the wall next to him.

“Yeah… he wanted to try things out once again because according to him I don’t have any other options in this town and I’m getting and blah blah blah, but I guessed you listened to us…”

“He cheated on you.” You nodded. “An absolute dick to cheat on a girl like you.” You clenched your fists and your thighs when he said that. You felt your heart rate increase, his voice was so deep and his gaze was so intense looking at you.

“I guess all boys are like that.” You played your hands.

“Maybe you need a man and not a kid.” Your breathing hitched when you felt him approach you.

Your gaze was still fixed on your hands, you didn't want to raise it, you didn't want to have to look at him and face what that infamous pirate was causing in you with just his deep voice. But Law didn't care and he grabbed your chin making you look him straight in the eyes. You looked away not wanting to look at him.

“C’mon look at me princess.” He said in a low tone.

You swallowed and you looked at him.

“So pretty.” He smiled.

You took a deep breath and took away your nervousness. “Maybe you’re right… I need a man.”

The sexual tension in the air was palpable. You wanted him and he wanted you, and you were willing to give yourself in. You bit your lower lip and sat up straight in the chair.

“Princess, tell me what you want, I need to hear it.” He said cupping your face with one of his big hands.

Your chest rose and fell, wanting to say those three words. I want you. I want him.

“I… want you…” You whispered.

“How princess?” He said almost touching your lips, you wanted them so badly.

“All over me, touching me… fucking me.”

He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you, capturing your lips. You groaned into his mouth due to the sensation it caused you. His tongue entered your mouth and started to play with yours.

“I wouldn’t mind fucking you on this pretty desk you have here.” He broke the kiss. “But I don’t want any of the villagers of the town to see how I fuck you and how I made a mess out of you.” You tried catching you air and tried to say something. “Or would you like that huh? You want me to fuck you here so when your little ex comes back sees how it’s done?” You moaned when he grabbed you and put you close to him, feeling his strong chest.

“We can go… to the back, no one usually goes around that area and... I can put the closed sign, that way no one would bother us.”

“Guide me princess.” He whispered to your ear.

You went to the door and put the signal of Closed and took his hand to guide him to the isolated part that was in the back of the library. Once inside that place, you felt Law standing behind you, his tall and muscular figure gave off a warmth like no other. You noticed how he hunched over and moved the braid away from your back, leaving your neck exposed. His breath hit your neck, making all your hair stand on end at the sensation. He rested his hand on the shelves and brushed his lips against the back of your neck, you gasped at the warmth of his lips. You turned to face him, you could see how his gaze passed from your eyes to your lips repeatedly. He stopped leaning and cradled your face with his hands, then kissed you with need, wanting to devour you. He growled against your lips, and intensified the kiss, lowering his left hand from your face to your hip, grabbing you tightly and pulling you against him.

You felt your legs trembling at the sensation that that pirate was causing you, you wanted him to start touching you as soon as possible. Your back was completely supported by the bookshelf while Law pressed himself closer to your body. You could feel the bulge in his pants, which made you start to get even wetter. You let out a moan as Law began to kiss your neck. You put your hands on the shelves to avoid falling, your legs were completely shaking and you didn't think you could remain standing if you didn't hold on to something. Law grabbed one of your legs, pulling it up and causing your dress to ride up, exposing your underwear.

“Fuck princess, you’re driving me crazy.” He said against your neck. “I don’t think I will be able to wait any longer without fucking you.”

“Please…” You moaned when you felt his hand going near your sex.

“Yes? Say it.”

“I need your cock. I need you to fuck me.” You said against his lips.

“I will fuck you really good princess.”

His hand went straight to your underwear, taking them down quickly, he began to touch you and play with your clit, you had to hold on to his strong shoulders to not fall and to have him closer to you.

“So fucking wet and just for me princess.” He said not stopping the mess he was doing down there.

You saw how he began to unbutton his pants and how he later pulled down his boxers, exposing his hard dick. You swallowed hard when you saw it, your ex was nowhere near that size, nor that thick.

“Don’t worry princess. I will take really good care of you.” He said to your ear. “I am a doctor after all. I won’t hurt you.”

You told him that it was okay and in one quick movement he grabbed both of your legs and made you wrap your legs around him. You could feel his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you. You wanted to tell him to put it in, you wanted to shout at him, but only moans and gasps escaped your mouth. Little by little he entered you and you felt yourself opening up, the sensation was overwhelming but pleasant. Your eyes rolled back as he entered you fully, staying still as you took a deep breath and your body adjusted to him.

“I’m gonna move okay princess?” He whispered.

“Please…” You said back.

Law began to move his hips, moving in and out of you quickly. The place began to fill with your skin colliding and the moans of both of you mixing.

More. I need more.

“Harder please.” You said.

“Exactly, taking my cock so good.” He kissed your neck. “Fuck princess, you hear that? So fucking wet for me. You look so beautiful princess, with my dick on you.”

You rubbed against him, loving how deep he felt.

“You’re so deep fuck…”

“Yes princess. Did your ex fuck you like this?”

“No… fuck daddy…” You gasped and felt how his dick grew bigger inside of you when you said that word.

“Shit baby, don’t say that or I won’t be able to last long. And you want me to last right? To make you feel fucking good right?”

“Yesyesyes… please daddy.”

Law started to move faster than before, making you go crazy with how good he was making you feel. You could feel your body shake and getting closer each moment to your climax. Law moved you away from the shelves and laid you down on the floor, leaving you behind him. While he was still inside you, he pulled down the straps of your dress exposing your breasts to him. He began to squeeze your breasts and play with your nipples, while he was still grinding against you. You bit your lips trying to silence the moans that came out of you, but you couldn't, Law was making you feel so good, it was inevitable.

You don't know how much time had passed when you heard the front door open. You cursed, you had put up the closed sign, why did they come here? Law didn't seem to care in the least that they might catch you fucking between the shelves, because he kept fucking you like it was his last day. You heard your name being mentioned and then you fell into who he was.

“Fuck… why is he here again?” You whispered.

“Your ex huh?” Law looked at you. “Maybe I should make you moan harder so he knows how good a real man makes you feel.”

You moaned, hard when he touched your clit whole fucking you. You didn’t want your ex to see you in that situation but you didn’t want to stop. Law continued to thrust hard, making you moan, until you both came. Your legs were shaky when he pulled out of you and you didn't notice the moment Law covered you with his cloak and left.

You heard voices come from the entrance, a scream, and then the door open and close. You waited sitting between the shelves, and then you saw him arrive, Law. You bit your lower lip as you remembered what the two of you had done just a few minutes ago.

“What did you do?” You questioned him.

“You will never have to worry about that kid again. He won’t bother you again.” He said extending his hand for you to take it.

You took his hand and stood up, still feeling soak from the sex.

“Thank you…” You thanked him.

“Law.” He said, although you already knew that.

“Law.” You said for the first time and you told him your name and he savored the name like honey.

Who would thought that the pirate you used to see and hear so much about years ago, would have been the one to give you the best fuck of your life.

[ovaryacted]

happy peg leon thursday nic <3

also to add to ur thoughts abt pegging old man leon and like REALLY FUCKING him. i would also like to add to the agenda of putting your fingers in his mouth to gag him but he sucks them so tender and lovingly…. ANYWAYS

*cartwheels away*

—elle, daydreamrot

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

ELLEEEE MY BIG BRAINED BABE. I’m gonna assume you meant Tuesday but I don’t mind cause it’s peg Leon day every day to me BAHAHA. You cooked with this thought though. No but I would genuinely peg any of his versions idc (the older the better but 29 Leon MEOWWW), cause I’m just real like that. But it’s something about fucking a 36 year old man in the ass that really gets my gears going. Shit makes me TWEAK THE FUCK OUT.

But fingers in his mouth? Yeah, absolutely. It would start with your thumb on his cheek, gently touching his face and rubbing his plump bottom lip. You can see it in his hazy eyes that he genuinely wants to have something in his mouth. And so you do, you slip your thumb inside and give it to him to suck on as you fuck him, and if anything it only makes him even more whiney underneath you. His tongue swirls around your finger and he uses it as some calming thing to ground him, feeding into his oral fixation and his eyes will roll into the back of his head.

If you really want to get him submissive, put a few of your fingers in his mouth for him to suck on and he’ll just start to babble, probably start to pant and drool right after too. And if you shove your fingers down his throat to make him audibly gag? He’ll cum on the spot like a pathetic fucking thing. Give him a soft slap or two on the cheek when he starts to cry a little to wake him up from his daze, but you’ll just keep going until he’s a fucking mess and doesn’t know right from left.

If he’s extra bratty or just noisy, you won’t even need to put your fingers anywhere near his mouth. You’ll just gag him with your panties, that way he can have a taste of you while you fuck him senseless. It’ll make him cum faster, knowing that he’s gagged and bound and can’t do anything about it, and he’ll make more noise on purpose so you can be a little more rough with him.

I’m crazy, sorry. But I’m glad the pegging Leon agenda is being supported hehe.

[halbravd]

stereotypes

pairing: sugar daddy!levi x reader.

summary: having a sugar daddy is all fun and games until you realize he’ll never fuck you if you don’t do something. you have to beg for it, to earn the right of bouncing on his cock — otherwise you’ll never get to know the bliss of being fucked by mister ackerman.

content warning: minors do not interact, implied age gap, use of pet names, dry humping, light bondage, oral & fingering (f. receiving), spitting, overstimulation, degradation, impact play (cunt slapping), hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie.

word count: 3k

writer’s note: here’s the reupload i promised! <3

Two months. Two months since it all started, and still nothing from his side. Fresh flowers brought to your apartment every two days, hundreds of dollars sent to your bank account with a little note telling you to buy this or that, dates at the fanciest restaurants… Yet he couldn’t give you so eagerly wanted — Sex. You, who were so afraid he’d ask to fuck you on your first night out, are more confused than ever, as days go by. Why would he buy you so much lingerie if he never planned to see you wearing them one day? Damn. Why was he always so polite, always so distant.

It wasn’t your place to ask him to fuck you senseless… Or was it? The more you think about it, the more you can feel your blood boil in your veins, burning your skin and breaking your heart. It didn’t have to be that personal, yet you just couldn’t help it — If Levi Ackerman was so reluctant when it comes to touch you, you must be the problem.

‘Don’t you find me pretty?’ You break the silence set between the two of you, fingers of yours toying with your fork. Suddenly, the meal in your plate didn’t look as delicious as it used to, long forgotten as the metallic tool played with it for a matter of minutes.

‘If you weren’t I wouldn’t spend a single dollar on you.’ Straight forward, as expected from him. ‘And with the amount of money I’ve spent for your pretty ass, I guess it’s pretty clear.’ Levi adds, his chin resting on the palm of his hand, elbow flush against the glass table. Of course he noticed that something was wrong. As soon as you stepped inside, to be more specific. But would he ask by himself? Surely not — He isn’t your dad or your friend. Most importantly, he thinks you’re old enough to start the conversation.

‘So why don’t you just fuck me instead of playing the cool guy?’ You spit, fork falling in your plate in a loud crash — Metal meeting porcelain. If your words weren’t enough, then it’s probably the tone in your voice that made his eyebrows furrow. Maybe you shouldn’t have raised your voice, maybe you should have tried to act like he didn’t affect you one bit. But this man always knows everything, and hiding things from him has been proven useless, many times.

‘Ah. This is what makes you so angry, after all… Hurts your ego, princess?’ The raven head mutters, a single raise of his finger enough to dismiss the few domestics standing there — He didn’t need them to hear such an important conversation after all. Especially if you decide to throw a tantrum out of the blue. ‘Beg for it, then.’

Eyes widening at his words, you almost choked on your own saliva, taken aback by the sudden change in his eyes. It took you a while to understand he was absolutely serious, silver eyes boring into you until you no longer feel safe in this damn room. It’s a matter of seconds before you feel hopelessly small and vulnerable, teeth nervously nibbling at your lower lip and eyes avoiding his piercing gaze. But there is something so arousing in the way he’s staring at you. The way he straightens his back and waits for an answer, savoring the moment — You can feel it down there, how wet and hot you’re becoming, lace panties damp and sticky.

‘Please, fuck me.’ Damn you didn’t mean to look so desperate. Whimpering like this when he hasn’t even touched you yet, struggling to swallow your own saliva.

‘Come on, be a bit more convincing. You can do much better than that,’ he snorts, and that’s enough to have tears rising to your pretty eyes. He won’t give it to you so easily, and it’s now too late to step back. Of course you could just leave this huge penthouse of his, petty and angry. But that problem sitting so nicely between your legs won’t go away so easily, and he’s the only answer to it.

Putting away your pride for the night, you’re quick to get on your feet, only to kneel right before his eyes, arms wrapped around one of his leg, and cheek rubbing against his thigh. The sight is painfully sinful. So filthy it has his cock throbbing in his pants and his heart missing a beat. Mind flooded with the nastiest thoughts, Adam apple slowly bobbing in his dry throat, he watches you grind your hips against his black polished shoe, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

‘Please Levi, fuck me,’ voice just above a whisper, your chin is met with two of his fingers, the latter lifting your face up so you could see how dark his eyes got. How blown wide his pupils are — All just because of you.

‘I want you naked on my bed. I’ll be there in five.’ Levi mutters, loosening the grip on your chin until he’s no longer holding it. Eyes of yours brighten up at his words, and you’re quick to follow his order, stuttering a bunch of thank yous on your way out.

Saying you walked to his bedroom was an understatement — You literally ran to it, just like you feared he’d change his mind. And you were ridiculously fast at getting rid of your clothes, something he would have definitely mocked you for if he was there, witnessing it all.

But you know how to be obedient when needed, and this is why you’re sitting on his bed all nicely for him, eyes focused on the closed door, painfully aware of your surroundings. Excitation rushed through your veins when you heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. Your mouth salivated when you saw the doorknob slowly rotating.

All of this was nothing compared to the blissful sight he was met with once he opened the door. If he always found you pretty, you were nothing but gorgeous. He stood there, shamelessly staring at your bare body, from your beautiful face to the birth of your breast, your stomach and your exposed pussy — Glistening under the warm lights of his bedroom. It was worth the wait. It was worth the painful rides back home, cock hard as a rock, begging to be taken care of. It was worth waking up in the middle of the night at the thought of you, stroking his hard dick to soothe the accumulated tension.

He wants to ruin you. To wreck that perfect body until it’s clear as day that you’re his. And acting calm and collected becomes more and more difficult, especially when he’s met with those two eyes — Pleading and desperate.

‘On all fours. Ass up.’ Levi orders, and you comply. Cheek buried in the mattress, hands resting from either side of your face, you arch your back oh so nicely, ass in the air and legs slightly spread.

All you can hear is the sound of his hands fumbling with his belt, his pants falling on the ground, soon followed by his dress shirt. The mattress dips under his weight, his cock resting against your ass and eliciting the sweetest gasp off your mouth. His hands trap your wrists, bringing them to the small of your back and tying them together with his leather belt — That makes you frown, mouth opening to protest.

‘You’ve been bad, you don’t deserve to touch me tonight. Be good or I’ll teach you how to behave.’ Levi hisses, not giving you any opportunity to defend yourself. So all you do is groan, a quick nod of your head in approval.

The palm of his hands find their way to your ass, spreading your cheeks to have a clear view of your pussy — Covered in slick, eager to be touched and filled. So much better than the dessert waiting for him downstairs. Hollowing his cheeks, he opens his mouth enough for a ball of saliva to fall close to your fluttering hole, goosebumps adorning your skin.

’Such a pretty cunt just for me, I’m such a lucky man.’ If Levi wasn’t very chatty, he was now the opposite side of the spectrum. Cursing under his breath, praising you for having such a nice body and degrading you for being a needy slut. But all that shame that was burning your face vanished as soon as his tongue got his first ever taste of you, licking a long stripe up your clit, flickering the sensitive bud with the tip of it. It makes you gasp and writhe underneath, eyes rolling at the back of your head and nails digging in the palm of your own hands.

He’s all over the place, and that slowly drives you insane — Pinching your clit with his thumb and index finger, fucking you with his tongue and spreading your folds, always looking for more. But as much as he loves how sweet you taste, it’s the sounds you make that keeps him going. Whispers of his name, high pitched moans when he takes care of that particular spot of yours, breathless gasps when he dips a finger inside.

He can feel your walls fluttering, two knuckles deep enough for him to rub that spongy spot that has your legs shaking and your head spinning. And when his thumb draws tight circles on your swollen clit, you feel yourself unravel right before his eyes. With one arm wrapped around your waist, he has you trapped. You can’t go anywhere, even when you’re trying to squirm away because it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

‘Levi… I’m gonna—‘ your voice breaks mid-sentence, the coil in your stomach snapping so furiously it pulls a soft scream out of your throat. You’re writhing and moaning, warm juice spilling from your tight hole only to be avidly collected by his hungry tongue. He doesn’t stop either, pumping his fingers in and out of you, lapping your folds and slapping your clit until you’re crying and begging him to stop, too sensitive to keep going.

But even in that state, you’re quick to realize he isn’t doing it for you, but for his own pleasure. Eating you out like a starved man, addicted to your whimpers and the way your back arches so prettily. It’s only when he’s satisfied with how messy your pussy looks, only when his sheets are drenched in your cum, your tears and your drool that he finally straightens his back, chin glistening and lips swollen.

You wish you could see more of him, the blurry view of his face through your watery eyes not even close to be enough for you. But when you try to speak, to ask if you’re allowed yo get on your back, all that spills off your mouth is a bunch of senseless babbles, and a pitiful hiccup. And that makes him chuckle. Evil man’s firm grip on your hip, free hand fisting his cock so the tip of it could slap your sloppy cunt. You whine and he smirks, collecting your arousal and teasing your entrance until you’re crying all over again.

‘Crying like a baby? My little slut doesn’t like to be played with? What a shame.’ And fuck how pretty it is, to hear you sob and cry because of him. That makes his cock grow impossibly harder, string of profanities leaving his lips when the head of his cock stretches your pussy. It’s so tight he’s wondering if all can fit — But he will make sure it will. There’s no way he would be satisfied with only the half of it. He needs to be balls deep in you, has to feel your walls around his cock, and the tip of it nudged against the deepest spot in you.

But there is no way you wouldn’t be good for him, right? So you take him just like he wants to, inch by inch, until he finally bottoms out with a low grunt. Heart vibrating in your chest, air stuck in your burning lungs, it’s like you can feel him in your throat, the veins adorning his cock grazing against your velvet walls and turning you into a whimpering mess. If he isn’t necessarily thick, his length makes up for it — It makes you see stars and lose track of time, pussy fluttering around him as you’re adjusting to his cock.

‘You’re so fucking tight. None of your college boys did a great job at fucking you, right?’ Levi hisses, leaning forward so his lips could kiss the warm flesh of your shoulder, messy and wet.

The grip on your hips is unforgiving, promise of bruises that are yet to paint your skin. The need to break you grows more and more intense, and the urge not to pound into you right now gets unbearable. Hurting you would be like breaking a toy he had for Christmas only a few hours after its addition to his collection, and he wouldn’t want to do that to you… Or does he?

You’re babbling again and that’s what makes his hips rock against yours, each of his thrust stealing the air off your throat, making your body jolts forward. It’s a toe-curling pace, his hips crashing against your ass fervently and with so much strength — He waited so long for this, he doesn’t find the courage to keep it slow and steady anymore. If it wasn’t for the grip on your hips, you’ll be flying god knows where.

‘Please… More…’ you struggle, but the words are there. Eyes turning white, hands wriggling in a failed attempt to get rid of his belt, all you can do is moan and take what he has to give you without a complaint.

‘Such a slut. Hopeless.’ He grunts, one of his hands flying to your hair, fisting them in a messy ponytail and yanking your head backward. He wants to see those pretty eyes of yours, the tears falling down your cheeks and staining your skin with mascara. He wants to see the disheveled look on your face and the way your mouth hangs open shamelessly, inked in his mind forever.

You don’t even know how he managed to, be he did as he’s told — Faster, deeper. How can such a small man be so brutal — That’s a question you’ll have plenty of time to think about… But not right now. Unable to think or speak, you can’t even warn him of your upcoming orgasm. Strangled moans fall off your mouth messily, gummy walls clamping down on him like a vice and making it almost impossible for him to keep going.

But when he’s struggling to chase his high, you’re too far away to care. Making a mess on his sheets, being so vocal about your own pleasure you fail to hear him groan and pant. A few more deep thrusts was all it took for Levi to reach his end, thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim and dripping off your abused cunt. It has his grip on your hair tightening, bringing you back to reality only for you to hear the prettiest sounds on earth.

There’s something about how whiny he gets when he finishes, how sensitive his cock becomes when he keeps fucking into you to make sure you won’t lose a single drop of his cum, that makes you shiver. Letting go of your hair and resting on his heels, Levi’s hands grab your waist only to bring you closer to him, your ass flush against his hips and his cock still buried deep.

He’s a sight for sore eyes — Beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and the tip of his nose, muscles flexing and wet strands of hair falling before his eyes, hips still stuttering and chest heaving. All he needs is a few seconds to go back to his usual self, but even with that, he’s not quite ready to let go of this sweet pussy of yours.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

hot in sarajevo ii

[ part one ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of “y/n”) / 7.3k words / NSFW

cw: body modifications in the form of könig's split tongue, references to monsterfucking, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, actually pretty sweet all things considered. a.n.: this literally kicked my ass during the two months it took to write it, and i sincerely hope you enjoy! sweet to the first half's sour, with a little surprise at the end if you read between the lines. ETERNAL thanks to @dotcie for beta-ing this for me, it wouldn't have been half as lovely without you, and to @parttimeprophet for helping me with my german so i wasn't making silly mistakes <3

The safehouse is a two-story, narrow shed shoved between two other, significantly older, significantly more robust stone buildings. A shithole that looks like it was made of tinder and afterthoughts, but it’s as glorious as an oasis after ten miles of hiking east over craggy, stony hills under a searing sun-fall. 

The fading light cooks your back, and there is an uneasy, but needy tension between you and König in the aftermath of a successful and gruesome assassination. Neither were strangers to such orders handed down by KorTac, but you were both experts in carrying them out with bloodthirsty perfection. 

When you’d left the campsite staging area in the center of the forest–where König taken you into his lap and fucked you senseless–he hucked you up on his back and hauled you through the forest without asking.

He was not a difficult man to read, at times; he’d felt bad for making your cunt sore. 

The thirteen hours of broiling under the harsh Adriatic sun in full-body ghillie suits didn’t ensure an easy or pleasant slog into the city proper. After the maniacal fuck that König required to jailbreak his emotional regulation, you were lucky you were walking at all. 

It seems to your eye that, sometimes, he views the world as an iPhone in the hands of an angry fourteen-year-old, and all his ailments are caused by wanting to watch porn outside of their parents’ childlocks. He could do that, and easily, if only he could aim his destruction at the proper target. Holding that thought, you have to remind yourself that König didn’t have any kind of a phone until he was eighteen. 

His parents had been of an older generation and had little interest in advancing technology, and no interest in throwing their scant money toward any of it. They’d continued to stagnate in the past–rotting in a poverty-burdened, filthy hoard house, amongst kennels of well-bred Doberman dogs that were better loved than he–while König had moved into the city and the modern era. But he still enjoys jailbreaking his iPhones, if only because he can. 

Maybe because he hates restrictions and authority. Maybe because they are the only concepts he understands, even as he struggles against them–though he always ultimately succumbs. 

Well. He hates restrictions and authority that doesn’t make him cum. 

You’re both dressed down to hiking civvies, and he’s got a black cotton gaiter pulled up his face. You’re sweating in sheets that cascade down your breasts, stomach, and back. Your thighs soak the legs of your pants, and every stride renews the raw, dull ache of chafing skin. There is not a stitch of clothes on your body that does not cling disgustingly to your overheated skin, making you feel beastly. 

By looking at König, and his sweat-blackened shirt and narrowed eyes, you can tell he feels the same. A shower cannot come soon enough. 

The exfil vehicle that had been waiting after the hike has done well enough of a job, but the closer you got to the safehouse, the narrower the roads became. Ultimately, it has to be abandoned several streets down. Left in a back alley, you pull yourselves out and pop the back hatch, where he pulls the strap of a surplus rucksack over his shoulder. He also  takes yours without asking, and adds it to the weight.

“What the fuck are you doing,” you say, not even allowing the end-pitch of a question.

“You can carry the case,” he replies. What an utter gentleman, allowing you to slug your own equipment, like you hadn’t spent years and years humping full packs across the hottest hellholes on the planet under active fire. You’re too tired, and too close to heatsick to argue it too much. The streets around here are mostly dark, quiet and full of Bosnians that mind their business. 

Baščaršija is a beautiful place. The old town is full of ancient mosques and minarets on stone-paved streets, some narrow, some wide. There’s one slim street in particular that you pass down, by far older than the necessity of wide paths for motor traffic, where the shops lining it are all broad, tall windows, the lights from within warm and softening the darkness fading into the city. 

You pass antique stores, bistros, couples and gaggles of friends crowding around each other, listening to music from their phones, smoking cigarettes, laughing. It’s nothing like home, a completely different animal, but it pulls you in. No one in this city knows that you and the man you walk beside are the cause of four monstrous deaths in the hills. 

You are two strangers, finding solace in hands reaching for hands, a moment of exhaled relief when contact is made by the tentative and exploratory brush of fingers. For a brief moment, you let yourself buy into the thought that you are just a backpacker, finding your way to lodgings with your boyfriend, carrying an odd case that could be anything. 

König’s grip becomes more insistent, a thick layer of dependence in its tight hold, and he looks dead ahead, head lowered, shoulders bunched. You give him three quick squeezes–I love you–and he answers it back with four–I love you, too. You now turn your attention to getting a read on him.

Normally, he is amped after a successful mission, but he was already needy. His jaw is set hard, and his eyes are flat and flinty. He’s looking, but not seeing. You know that he’s turned against himself.

The pair of you had fallen together in a frenzy. To call your fall for one another an orbital strike would be an understatement. Yours was a crash site made home, and the months of settling under the strange, but welcome and cherished atmosphere of a relationship had begun to peel away the dermis, revealing the sensitive nerves and muscle below.

There lives a hatred in König’s soul that often turns inward. Would that he could rip himself to shreds like a sheet of paper folded and twisted under nervous hands. And he does. You still haven’t found a way to break through those walls–hell, you don’t think he even knows how he erected them, because he would also see them crumbled and turned into utter wreckage. 

If you were going to pull logic out of the chaos that’s occupied his body since he was thirteen, you would have to admit to yourself that there isn’t anything you can do. That he’s the one that has to somehow find away to break apart and rebuild the way he thinks, nearly on a molecular level. 

With no other help to offer, feeling weak and useless in the face of his battle, you hold his hand, and you walk beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he says after two blocks of walking. Spits it out sudden-like, not meeting your eyes. His posture is fucked, slumping him forward. 

“Stop that shit.” No heat, you never use heat with him; the man’s been burned enough. “Wouldn’t I tell you if I didn’t like the way you handled me?”

There is a telling pause, you can feel the lie he’s building on his tongue become too big to swallow or spit. He grinds it down between his molars, and his hand grows tighter around yours in desperation. 

“I think you would lie to make me feel better.” 

It’s an earnest and brave bit of truth–the man developed a frightening skill with white lies through his life to survive all of the shit hands he was dealt, and his skin crawls under the admission. But your love is dissection, vivisection: it has given you months of slow, thorough study, and an understanding of what patterns his thoughts led him down to land on that conclusion. 

It is what he would do to make you feel better.

“Lee,” you say, using the part of his real name that he finds acceptable, and only from you, “you know I give more of a fuck about your security than your comfort when it comes to shit like this.”

The blunt admission makes him stifle a wince, but he holds tight when you slip out of his hand to wrap your arm around his waist, his arm around your shoulders.

The moment you’re through the threshold of the safehouse, the Steyr’s case hits the floor, along with your packs, and out come the sidearms. You and König slide right into formation, clearing the building room by room, call and response in flight like crows. 

He takes the lead, and you follow–as much as he might not like the designation dumped in his lap, he is good at it, running hot with his jaw ticking, eyes engaged and unblinking. It was a barb during the fuck, calling him an insertion specialist, but there is not another soul at KorTac that you would trust with your safety on the ground the way you put your life in his hands.

After the building is confirmed clear, it comes time for your speciality. Both of you are experts in urban warfare, but where his skill lies in blunt force, yours burns brightest in paranoia. 

Paratrooper by training, guerilla tactics by experience, tearing apart the house in search of bugs or aberrations. Anything wrong, anything out of place. It takes longer than the clearing, König helps, and at the end, the safehouse is as spotless as it can be from a tactical standpoint. 

Standing in the attic bedroom, you stretch your back. “I’m radioing in. You hit the shower.”

He shakes his head and makes an argumentative noise. “Nah. Give me your pieces, I’m breaking down and cleaning everything,” he says, holding his hand out expectantly. 

He presents his .50 GS–a literal hand cannon, and a fraternal twin to your own–without asking, and holds it out to you by the barrel. You do not like the way your hand feels wrapping around the checkering on the grip. You do not like that it’s aimed at his stomach. 

You take it anyway, holding it loose in one hand with your finger on the trigger guard, and pass him your P99 and matching .50 from the holsters under your arms. There is sore white all around his eyes, and he is not blinking. 

“Where are you setting up?” he asks, voice tense like a wire-plucked.

Your initial report runs smoothly, getting in contact with Majka on a secure, encrypted line on the tablet usually kept in König’s possession. For this operation, your call signs are Schakals. Jackals. Wild things, unafraid of humanity. Wandering far too close, with teeth too ready to reveal under peeled chops.

König stays close, breaking down your guns a mere cushion away on the couch where you’ve planted your ass, hips aching and thighs tight now that the aftershocks of sex have long, long faded. His head remains bowed, and his gaiter remains in place. Every few minutes, he rolls his shoulders back. Forcing the blades of bone together, trying to release tension that will not let go.

When your report closes out, and you move to sit forward reaching for your cigarettes and lighter, König jerks as he turns to you. “Where’re you going?” His question is brittle, and keyed-up, eyes darting over your body as you settle back a bit.

“Nowhere, calm down,” you tell him, lighting two cigarettes. “Can I pull down your mask so I can give you this?”

He responds in a subtle nod, and you reach for his trappings to tuck the cigarette into the corner of his scarred mouth. König tries to follow your hand when you pull away, a nigh-unconscious tell that gives away his endless desire to be near you, always. It’s a level of wantedness you still grapple to understand–and it’s gut-turning fear mixed with crushing want that makes you pull your hand away instead of cupping his jaw.

You were never told what to do with the parts of yourself that somehow remained soft through the abuse of years. You’re stuck having to teach yourself, and it is not an easy process, though König has helped break an innumerable amount of those barriers. 

He looks kicked when you sink back into the armrest of the couch, until you shove your feet under his thigh, flicking your eyes toward the neatly disassembled handguns on the trunk-cum-coffee table before him, a silent nudge of keep going. 

Some peace washes over him as he cleans the broken-down guns, heeding your urging. 

His eyes don’t ever soften, not that you’ve ever really seen–except for rare moments, when he looks at you, and you wonder what visual information his brain is processing from his retinas. It puts you in a wondering state: curious if he thinks of you in the poetry of weapons engineering, or nuclear physics, or the black shine of blood spilled at night–but his gaze isn’t dagger-edged in concentration. 

Neither would you call it contentment. You know König is only content when he’s burned through all of his bad energy, and all the screaming in his head has died down to guttering, airless moans.

“Do you want to go out and get food later?” you pose to him, thinking back on the smell of kebabs roasting over burning coals overwhelming your memory and empty gut, and he nods again. Neither of you speak Bosnian or Serbian, but his Croatian is conversational, and passable enough. 

“Saw a couple booths doing Turkish coffee on the way. You’ve ever had that?” he asks half-mumbled, his attention unevenly divided. 

“You can do it on a stove, but it’s not the same as…,” he says, drifting, and your mouth twitches toward a smile when you realize he’s moved past the other half of his sentence. A good half inch of ash clings to the end of his cigarette, and it falls on his thigh, utterly unnoticed as he slides the guns back together slow as syrup. 

It’s a bit fun to watch as he pours his attention into the flow of his hands. On the field you’ve seen him breakdown and rebuild these same guns in seconds when demanded. There’s some measure of novelty in watching him take his time.

Your guns are handed back to you, cleaned first and checked over for defects. You slide them back into your holsters, just like coming home as you silently observe him moving onto the Steyr. 

The god-killing gun falls apart in his hands–pulled piece by piece in diagrammatic sequence from the molded foam from a case twice as expensive as your monthly rent–as if waiting for his attention, spread across the coffee table in a way that seems almost indecent to your eye. 

Maybe it’s a situation of projection–identifying with the horrendous and heavy weapon that, just today, took four lives in one of the most brutal ways imaginable. Thinking of yourself in precision machined pieces, willing and eager to disassemble under König’s hands, because you know he will dedicate himself fully to your continued existence and function. 

The Steyr’s all spread out before him like you often are, a pile of components unmade at his hands: unscrewed barrel, its bipod assembly, its scope and sights and grips, its magazine and receiver.You feel yourself pulse, clit throbbing in time with your increasing heartbeat. 

Maybe you should be more open and honest during your next psych eval, if you’re getting this wet over thinking of yourself as similar in nature to a rifle.

This process takes longer, but when König is finished, handing you the cigarette butt to put out, he puts the pieces back into the appropriate slots in the case. He stretches back, smelling like the slick, oily residue of DW-40 and the metallic odor of the faintly acidic oils on his skin reacting with the weapon’s metal. It clings to and pinches your soft palate like the sting of a sweat bee, something you can feel just under your eyes. 

His spine cracks, releasing a hard, meaty sound as the joints give, and he grunts in relief, turning his head toward you. He looks like he’s about to say something, but stops right before the words can gather behind his teeth.

Shit, you must be obvious. Can’t help the pull on your lips as you look up at him, shifting your legs, your thighs pressing together, amplifying the thump of your blood. “Hey.” Stupid thing to say really, but your come-on lines have never been all that stellar. But he’s always excited you, made you feel giddy and frivolously young and unburdened. Like you’re finally able to have all the things were denied as you grew into adulthood, shoved aside in favor of trauma that demanded the attention more.

“Hey,” he says, laughing a bit. He pulls what he can of his scarred lips between his teeth, wetting them, his brow furrowing. “I’m going to wash my hands. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Briefly, there is a twitch in your stomach, watching him go, and the anticipation and giddiness twist for a moment toward sickness. Sometimes, you worry he will leave and not come back. That he’ll have decided that he’s had enough, even with his threshold as high as it is, and he will simply be gone.

But, true to his word, he’s not gone long at all, just gone to the kitchen on the other side of the room, and you are bad off all over again. Watching him bow his head and hunch slightly to fit his hands under the stream of steaming water, soap foaming clear up his wrists, is making your mouth flood and your throat clicking dry. Big bastard, he’s doing it on purpose, hitting all of your buttons.

And the way he maintains eye contact with you all the way back, his hips loose and rocking, his pants already beginning to tent. His deep breathing gives him away, nevermind the fact that he hasn’t pulled his gaiter back up.

He sits back down, turned toward you, and pushes his hands under the hem of your shirt, his palms warm and soft from the wash and scrub. His thumbs knead into your skin, and his lids droop as his fingers tuck into the waistband of your pants. The pressure in his fingertips is possessive, greedy, starved like a street dog. He savors your skin, tracing patterns where he knows your tattoos live beneath your skin, pressing the heels of his hands into your hips.

Your tongue feel like lead. Everytime he touches you like this, it reads loud and clear that he’s holding onto something–someone he considers his. He’s surveying the scope of his lands, his dominion, and, dear god, does he love this country he calls home. 

“Bitte, Schatzi,” he mumbles, leaning forward so minimally anyone else in the world would need a micrometer to measure the distance moved, “let me have your cunt. I’m starved, and you look like you’re having fits.” A wicked smirk flickers over the corner of his mouth as his eyes darken, and his hands grip tighter where they’ve slid to your waist. “I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole, but I can’t stand to just watch you suffer because of me.”

You pull your tongue along the bottom edge of your teeth, thinking of how he was in the woods earlier–sharp-edged and demanding, unrelenting, holding you in place over his cock as he rammed into you over and over, until you literally saw stars and couldn’t breathe. Aggression, all claws, borderline unfit for human companionship, all under a soft gold sunset. And, here, you still would not say the man before you is a different man at all. He’s just König. He’s just Leopold Königsbacher, from Schladming, Austria, who juggles kitchen knives to make you laugh.

“You just wanna sink down there til you grow gills or something?” you ask, a bedroom, sliding your leg into his lap, soaking up the look of relief on his face. His hands slide farther down, cradling the swell of your hips, as you undo your belt and zipper, pushing your pants and boxers down. 

He helps pull them down as far as either of you can, looking fucking ridiculous as your clothes can’t go farther than your boots. Doesn’t pay to take them off, no matter how long you’re going to be here, you might have to run, and it’s easier to keep everything within pulling distance. 

Flicking his eyes over your body, a small, caught-out smirk touches his lips. “Hah. Yeah, jawohl. Would live between your fucking legs, if I could.” His hips roll against nothing, rubbing his hard cock against the strain of his pants. You know there’s an anxiety in him that screams to fuck and to fuck now, and it’s raising its head. 

König has the sort of anxiousness where if the things he desires do not happen immediately, they will not happen at all. His mind works in such a way that even small things become so desperately escalated into needs, he can hardly function without answering those demands.

On the best of days, you’re not much for words, and he has no natural talent for them–he can talk at screeching speeds, expelling high levels ideas that are baffling or frightening with ease, but his delivery is lacking, and leaves his listeners shifting uncomfortably or looking for exits. You, on the other hand, are simply not good at them. Too cold, too strange. Too blunt, or removed. But König understands you as you understand him, and he coaxes sweet nothings out of you more than anyone else has ever managed.

Despite the sweetness that spills from your lips being an understood language between you,  none of your words are the soft, looping things most would like to hear muttered into their skin. In the bedroom-dark safety of bodies-meeting-bodies, you and König still snap out the sounds of predators, and anyone scenting as prey would fail to find the beauty in your phrases as he does. 

And, beyond that, you’re not sure you could even find words. Not with him towering over you between your legs, though he bows lower. Not with the light from the kitchen behind his head hitting the wheat-colored curls escaping from his hair tie, illuminating him like a saint. Lord, he looks like dreams you used to have. 

You reach for his neck, and you tug him down, permission passed without even parting your lips, and the relief that relaxes his eyes is colossal. Like he’s walking his way home in the dark on a path he would know blind and numb, he finds his way to your cunt with the ease of muscle memory. 

But König is still König, and his anxiety will always outweigh his softness tenfold. He lets out this nervous, pitchy hyena laugh of excitement. Not waiting for permission and not giving a second of preamble, he licks you from asshole to clit in a broad, wet swipe with his long, split tongue.  

Electricity shoots straight up your spine. Almost immediately, he buries back in, massaging the halves of his tongue around your clit like he’s painting in brush strokes. 

He ropes an arm around your leg and over your pelvis, weighing you down, and fits his free hand into the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Using that as extra leverage, he pulls himself further in, and pushes your legs further back–hobbled as they are by your clothing around your ankles. Your skin burns like an oil derrick in flames every spot you’re touched, and his mouth is volcanic; you only just this moment realizes how badly you needed to thaw.

You were a barracks bunny before König and your mutual, supermassive possessive streaks; always easy to put out, wet on your own command, perpetually bored and looking for fun stolen minutes at a time. You can easily say sex is a sorely jaded topic in your roster. 

But, holy fuck, every time he hits his knees to devour you feels new, and alien, and strange. 

Not only his tongue—practiced, clever thing it is now that he’s been able to take his natural talent for it to use with you, drawing figure eights and pinching and pulling at you, teasing your hole and your clit at once—but his utter, sustained greed pitched against his plain desire to serve. How he gets more focused and desperate, sucking on your lips, groaning into you, sounds become wetter by the second. 

“Pretty, fuck, your pussy’s so pretty,” he mutters, panting, pausing to kiss your seam. Between your cunt and thigh, your perineum, making you squirm and whine. His dogmatic fervor has always been borderline chilling–you’ve never been handled with this level of desire, or needed so fiercely you function akin to air that is needed to live. 

No one has ever loved you this way–no one before him. If you could wrap the threads of fate around your forearms like the reins of horses, to exert your horrid and steely control over them, he will never have a successor. 

It will always be only him.

You reach down and grab him by the hair at his temples, which you’ve never ceased to be charmed to find is gray before his years. “Fuck me—with your tongue, right now,” you command him, and he complies, only reaching up to hook his thumb in your shirt and bra to ruck them up over your breasts. 

The instant stretch makes you dizzy, squeezing your thighs tight around his head. Don’t his cheekbones just cut right into your muscle, and doesn’t he just moan and heave a whole body shudder under you?  Greedy fucking man, pushing his tongue deeper, scissoring the halves of it wide in all directions, curling against your walls as he finds an angle for his neck that fits him to thrust in and out of you. Feasting, feasting, feasting.

It’s a fullness you’ve only recently gotten used to with him–too much dexterity, too fluid and swirling, and it reminds you shamefully of all the times you’ve masturbated to the point of wrist-aches with tentacles, and aliens, and monsters on your mind. Fevered, otherworldly, inhuman beasts dying of desire, with the sparkling-sharp sentience to know exactly how to slake their thirst and sate their hunger. 

His hands grip tighter, nails digging into your flesh, and you know it’s going to leave bruises, but you don't care. It only gets better when he cracks his eyes, a picture of anguish and ecstasy, moaning deep and rumbling in his chest. 

It seems he brings himself under some form of control. His mouth turns pliant, and the way he tastes you turns indulgent, slow. The only man you’ve ever met who could self-soothe by eating pussy. And, shit. Doesn’t that work out perfectly for you.

Your hands soften, brushing over his tied-back hair, playing with loose ringlets. Staring down at him, watching the creases fade from his forehead and from around his scars, he looks satisfied, and at peace. It’s a look you’ve seen only rarely, not even in his sleep. 

He sighs and groans, kneading your thighs, when he makes you come on his tongue, sliding it in and out of you as lazy as late, humid afternoons; rumbling deep in his throat when you arch off the cushions, groaning and clenching your thighs to keep them from squeezing around his head again.

“Aw, fuck, Kö—,” you half-whine, making him hum a nasal laugh, pulling out of you agonizingly slow. The lower half of his face is a mess with your slick, shining under the light, and his pupils are dilated to the size of fucking 10-cent pieces. 

There’s a proud, giddy cut to his expression, his scarred-crooked mouth pulling into a lopsided grin, chest heaving. 

“Did you like that, Schatzi? Did it make you feel good?” he pushes, his hands coming to your knees, fingers pressing firmly into your flesh. 

“Yeah,” your voice drags as you speak, laughter raspy. Your racing heartbeat is only just starting to slow, and the whole of your body pulses in time. There is delight in being rocked by ground-shaking tectonics of pleasure. There is divinity in the way he looks down at you–starving, an acolyte wanting to worship. “Have a condom on you?”

A quick nod is your answer, and he starts to pull up your body, dropping your legs. It’s ridiculous and hurried, and the laugh that bursts out of you is huge, taking on a life uniquely its own when he starts climbing in between your legs and your pulled-down pants, “What are you fucking doing?”

“Path of least resistance, even though it looks like the path of most resistance!” he barks in return, laughing too loudly and frenetically, filling the room. He hikes your pants up over his ass and onto back, yanking you further down the couch, and deeper into his lap. As simple as if you were just a jump harness he had to wrestle into. “I’m thinking on that fifth dimension shit right now! You have to catch up, Schatzi,” he says, giving you a maniac, you get it? grin. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you accuse him, but you’re beaming and cackling all the same, unfastening a chain from around your neck with zero thought, working a fully blind impulse. 

“No, you’re fucking an idiot,” he shoots right back, “really, Liebe, you have to at least try to keep up.”

Oh, and what the fuck. This is König–the one that you dream about, the one you go looking for when the world wants to crush you in its titanic fucking grip. Thinks himself so dog-ugly, dog-tired. Distempered, foul, and unworthy of anything but beating. 

He’d probably sneer, roll his eyes, and insult you if you compared him to the sun, but the thought remains firmly anchored in your head as your hands slide the thin, cheap chain around his neck twice, fixing the clasp at his nape. König’s too distracted to notice much more than lifting his chin to afford you access, as he pulls out his cock and rolls the rubber down it.

When he lines himself up with your cunt, looking too eager, the two fingers you keep tucked between a strand of the chain and his neck tug, tightening the links around his skin. At once, you’ve got his full attention, his chest heaving as he holds himself above you.

“What’s that?” he asks, licking his lips, beginning to tremble, leaning into the pull of pressure. “What’re you doing?”

“I was thinking about playing with your air a little bit. That okay?” you purr, giving the chain another small tug. “Nothing big. I won’t cut your breathing off completely. But I thought you might like it.”

“Oh, fuck.” He starts up laughing again, but it’s dripping with a rotten core of sudden need. “Bitte–think you have to, now. Can’t just tease me with that shit and not deliver.”

It was in your head to pull him down over you, but your breath catches in your throat looking at him. With half your body bound to him by tangled clothing and your own greedy legs anchoring tight to his sides, each of you flush with laughter and arousal, your heart is a bleeding stone on your tongue. Instead of staining your teeth as the blood rolls out of your mouth, it spills in reverse, and you can hardly drink your fill of it before you begin to choke. 

“I love you—” It snaps out of your mouth and dies, the harsh need to hide away your face makes you pull him down, moaning as he slides deeper, and, fuck, it hurts. You’re still so tender, and bruised, and god knows what else from this taking just barely managing to handle the way he’d fucked you that afternoon that anything but slow, sweet, and shallow was going to be an agony endured. 

His hips buck and jag, entire throat filling with the moan of your real name. He tries so hard not to fuck into you fully, planting his hands on either side of your arms as if he’ll bar himself from giving into his own body. 

“Don’t do that, don’t do that, don’t do that,” he begs and rambles, shuddering, breathing in shallow, clipped laps as if freezing. His hips and legs shift, nearly nervous–a horse spooked and dying to run. “Oh, fuck, don’t do that,” he pleads, hanging his head, trying hard to catch his breath.

The chain is so easy to use, and he listens to the summon of pressure, sucking in a breath to hold it tight. His body sways, buffeted by arousal as if he is a ship on deep-rolling seas, and his head ends up sunken within whispering distance of your lips. So close you can smell the sweat cooling through his curls. So close you can taste the copper-tinged scent of his skin without ever licking him.

“You’re so good, Schatz,” you say, tapping on a name you rarely call him, borrowing his language. “Such a good boy. Such a loving boy.” The pain dulls to a throbbing ache that can be enjoyed, his hips slowing as he rocks into you. Already, he runs ragged, but his rhythm is bursting with devotion and slow-melting sweetness. 

There is a monster that lives in your chest, cradling, always, the molar-cracking force with which you love König. The beast beneath that calls your ribcage a prison and a home does not know a single way to handle things in half-measures. There are no lengths you would hesitate to go for the man above and inside you, head bent and buried into your shoulder in supplication.

Your pillow-talk starts to spill out, eyes sliding closed, as you revel in the breath making your skin humid, “I couldn’t stand seeing you with anyone else, Schatz. If you ever left me–ever started fucking another person–think I’d kill ‘em. I’d lose my shit, not being the last person you ever took to bed.”

“I wouldn’t–oh, sheiße–Schatzi, I would never,” König vows in a moan, the sound filling the dip above your collarbone like collected sweat or blood pooled from a spilling neck wound. 

He loses sense of his rhythm, rutting like an animal in heat. It becomes difficult to ride it out with him, timing his peaks with the pull on the chain, forcing him higher and higher. You’re too sore to cum like this again today, but his mouth had seen to it that you were finished. Now it is a matter of making him match as he rides you, pressing more and more of his weight down.

“Cum. God dammit, König, you need to cum,” you command him, breathless, pulling the chain taut now. It’s been entirely too long now that he’s been keyed up, desperate for your cunt, gripping you to his body like he needs the touch to simply survive. The way he breathes, when you allow him, is the heavy heaving of brittle-dry sobs. His skin burns against yours, sliding with the sheer amount of sweat pouring from his body. 

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back, listening to him whimper, “I’m trying, I’m trying, bitte, Liebes, I promise,” his voice unraveling into an escalating, hysterical, almost panicked moaning. 

“I know–I know you are, honey. Christ–fuck–you’re killing me. Love how you fuck me. Love how hard you get when you kill people. How you act all fucked up, and vile, and need to cut loose,” you gasp, more of the vulgarity breaking out of you as your ragged pants barely manage to pull air into your lungs. “Know this isn’t that. I know you’re–being gentle on purpose. Fucking me like you need me, ‘cause you do. You couldn’t move on from me–there is no one else, is there?”

There is one last ruthless constriction of chains against his throat, holding him tight. This time you really do cut his air, metal biting into your fingers. The last stretch of his desperation draws longer–long enough you wonder if it was a mistake–as every roll of his hips slides him deeper. 

A sound chokes in his throat, and he holds himself rigid, his shoulders quaking with suppressed trembling as his wrapped cock kicks inside you. He’s not even breathing, obeying the constriction around his neck, and he rocks the longer it draws out. For a stupid moment, you wonder if he’s somehow blacked the fuck out in his frozen state, until the links holding the chain’s clasp give, the necklace snapping.

He pulls in a huge gust of air and collapses on top of you, forcing your chin to slot over his shoulder as his weight crashes down, pushing the wind out of you.

“Shit–damn, baby, was it that good?” you ask, relieved and shaking in time to match his. You didn’t cum, but you didn’t need nor want to. You find yourself perfectly satisfied, the heady, filthy contact of skin sticking together its own prize.

“Shh,” he admonishes you, taking a huge breath, sloppily kissing your neck. 

“We didn’t even shower.”

“Shh,” he now insists, lazily lifting a hand to cup it over your mouth, and he rumbles with contentment as you place your teeth on the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

After an indecently thorough shower, you both dress in the small cubby of a bathroom afforded to you. It’s a slow process, König seemingly spending more time kissing you and touching you than actually dressing. The sadness and desperation had gone out of him with the sex–it could even be called lovemaking, but. Well. You’re both on the far side of skittishness when it comes to naming something so gently.

But, in turn, you are softer. Kinder. Thawed. When his hands slide into yours, you massage his palms and the heel of his thumb. You squeeze his fingers, and brush the soft veins of his wrist with your fingertips. 

Your love is dissection, vivisection, but there is a reason that flesh is cut and dermis, fascia, and muscle are pulled apart. 

It is to learn the body beneath your hands, and you are so acutely learned in König. When you kiss his palms, he breathes in tightly. When you put a hand over his chest, as if to hold his oversized heart, you swear he would let you cradle it to calm the slamming it produces.

“I love you,” you say to him, sliding your eyes up to his, liquid-smooth, flowing. This time it is said with intent. It is not a burst of confession in the midst of blistering heat, where it feels guilty and fraudulent. This is a surety. This is your heart speaking with a projected voice.

He takes your hand off his chest, his face softened with a weak expression and glittering eyes, and he presses his lips to your knuckles. After the kiss, he holds you there, simply nuzzling your skin. “Ich liebe dich, auch, mein Liebe,” he murmurs, lids sitting heavy over that blue you know so well.

Baščaršija had awoken as you two had hidden in one another’s bodies. The sky is dark as pitch, and the light pollution from the bazaar blots out the stars, but the air smells spiced and warm, with a faint tinge of sweat-touched skin leftover on the locals who had spent their days under the sun.

While waiting in line for the coffee König had mentioned as he’d broken down and cleaned your guns, he examines the snapped length of your necklace. “It’d be an easy fix. Might have to wait until we’re home, but–no, yeah–two minutes, tops,” he says, pinching the stretched-out link that had caused the failure below the free edge of his thumb nail.

You lift a shoulder in a shrug, looking down at his hands. “It’s cheap, I’m not worried about it. I have to have a dozen and a half just like that in my junk jewelry box,” you snort. It’s an easy let-go. It’s garbage silver over copper, and it’s not worth the money that made the tag that once hung from it. 

“Always with the shitty jewelry,” he sighs, bemused, but it’s not a real jab. He still winds the chain around two of his fingers to make a little bundle, and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s not going to let it remain broken, simply because it’s yours. He’s quiet for a moment, though he hums warmly when you turn around and press your back into his chest, your boots between his boots while you wait in the queue. But he starts, “You know…”

You press back into him, humming, “Hm?” in answer.

“I could buy you jewelry, if you want. Real jewelry,” he begins to venture, tone a completely different animal than you’re used to meeting eyes with. It’s almost hesitant, and isn’t that just so massively strange when it comes to this man. “Or…a diamond.”

The word lands like an anomalous warhead–something gargantuan and frightening, that does not detonate on impact. It’s still a terrifying occurrence, but not an instant death as should be feared. Your back straightens against him, and you fall into a controlled breathing pattern in the same way you’d fall into a plummet when running off the back of a cargo plane. Good god, you hope your chute opens.

“Do you like diamonds?” he queries further, soft and anxious. He begins to shift and fidget. He’d hoped for a faster answer to this question-beneath-a-question.

Reaching behind you, you draw your hand down the length of his arms, until he pulls out of his hoodie pocket. Relaxation floods his body the moment you lace fingers with him, squeezing him tight, three times, I love you, and his four beat answer comes quickly. 

“Diamonds are pretty,” you start, slow and careful in navigation of the thoughts ricocheting around your racing heart. Exhilaration? Dread? Hope? You can’t possibly tell, but you know exactly what he’s asking. “I’d want a lab grown one, though. Think we have enough blood on our hands without jumping for something mined,” you further, in small beats. “What about a, uhm. What do you think of a sapphire? Maybe…something heirloom.”

Callused fingers brush your knuckles, and a scarred mouth hidden by a black cotton gaiter lowers to your ear, nuzzling your hair. “I’d love how you look wearing a sapphire,” he murmurs in utter reverence. It makes you scoff a little under your breath–he holds you in higher esteem than he’d ever held any god–but you reach up and offer benediction in the form of your free fingers sliding into his freshly washed curls.

“Maybe that’s something we’ll talk about more coming up, huh?” you ask and assure. It is not a no, you are not putting out his flame completely, but this is something that should not be spoken of while clocking hours with kills. You’d rather not have anything between you and König defined in a setting where blood could shower at any moment. You’d like neither blood diamonds, nor blood proposals. “But, yeah, Schatz. I’d wear your jewelry.”

He presses a kiss to the spot in front of your ear, and quickly pinches your ass, laughing hyena-pitched once again. “Good. You wouldn’t get to take it off, you know. I’m going to put it on you, and a mortician is going to have to remove it.”

You rub the spot he’d pinched, giving him an eye roll over your shoulder. “Ah, I see, so you’re also telling me that you get to die, first,” you deadpan, though you can’t stop the smirk that curls your mouth.

“Of course. Why would I want to hang around any fucking place you’re not?” he throws your way, and in the pit of your heart, you know he means it.

tag-list: @alittleposhtoad @bitchoftoji @jaredhopworthsknickers @kastlequill @miyabilicious @moths569 @pssytrux <3

[mellowsaturns]

religion’s in your lips

JOEL MILLER X FEM!READER

summary: after a quick brush with death, you start to see your life in a new light

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, established relationship, love as a religion, religion talk, corruptification of reader if you squint, fingering, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), past traumatic experience, smut takes place in jackson

wc: 1k

— — —

It was silly, you think. How you used to pray for the world. How you made bargains with God for small slices of normalcy, for the virus to stop, to just make it through the night alive. All blind faith when you truly think about it.

Because where was he when you were inches away from death, begging with your last breath?

God didn’t help you. Not the God you knew, anyways.

With the amount of blood spilling out of your wound, you should’ve died. Would have just been another body count for the assholes who attacked you, but to your surprise, a hand rolled your body over. There were gasps and subtle arguing before someone lifted you off the cold pavement. With your head lolled to the side, you managed to take a peak from the corner of your eyes. All you saw were brown curls and a patchy beard before you blacked out.

Days later, you woke in a haze to find that same person looking over you.

All those nights of praying were utterly useless, you realized. Now, you know better because it wasn’t God who saved you. This man did.

Now, Joel Miller was the only person you’d go on your knees for.

Looking up from your position, Joel’s head is pulled back in bliss as your mouth works his length. You hum in satisfaction when he lets out those guttural groans. It was like melodies to your ears.

“Fuck, darlin’ you’re doing so good for me,” he praises, looking down at you. He tugs onto your hair and pushes you deeper. “Just like that,” he moans. “Just a little more,” he says as he starts to fuck himself into your mouth, an indication that he was nearing his climax. “You gon’ take me like a good girl?”

You struggle to nod with his cock deep down your throat. He chuckles before wiping away your tears and finishes in your mouth, spilling that sweet salty taste of him into you.

Pulling back, you smile when you see the pleasure in his eyes and swallow every last drop of him like it was the sweetest wine.

It takes no time for him to lay you on the bed, peeling off every single piece of clothing that touched your skin.

Running his large rough hands over your body, you shutter against his touch. He makes his way up, gently kissing the spot where your thighs and hip meet before scattering more kisses across your stomach and breasts—especially on that old jagged scar where every single kiss of his felt like your revival.

You audibly gasp when he cups your sex, pressing onto it with just enough pressure to tease you. “Joel,” you whisper with steadying breaths. “Joel, please.”

“Hmm?” he mumbles against your neck.

“Want you,” you beg, eyes pleading. “I want to feel you.”

At that, he dips a finger into your core and you let out a desperate whimper. “So wet already,” he teases. “This what you needed, darlin’?” he asks, adding another digit.

It was pathetic how quickly you succumbed to his touches.

You nod. “Feels so good,” you breathe out. “Want you so bad.”

Joel groans, cock hardening once again against your body. When he enters you all the way with a grunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head. No matter how wet you are or how much he preps you, you always feel the stretch because he was so fucking big.

“Keep your pretty eyes on me,” he gruffs, and you slowly steer your eyes back to his. “Good girl,” he says, voice low before picking up his pace and fucking you senseless. “Don’t cover your mouth, wanna hear you.”

His name on your tongue sounds holy, almost like a prayer echoed throughout the empty house. Joel. Joel. Joel.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he murmurs. “Fuck. Love it when you say my name like that.”

“I can’t,” you breathe out, feeling like you were about to rip in half with the way he’s rutting into you. “Joel,” you whimper, “I can’t tak—”

“You can,” he rasps, “I know you can. Said you’d do anything for me, right? Be good for me. I’ll make you feel good, promise.”

You do what he says and take all of him. And just like he said, it was good. So good that it only takes a few minutes before you’re blinded by your own orgasm. He comes shortly after, filling you up with his essence before resting his forehead against yours while he fucks his spend into you.

Taking your mouth with his, he pulls you into a deep kiss. “Did so well for me, sweet girl.”

Your arms find their way around his torso as the two of you lay there coming off your high. Sometime after, Joel gets up and comes back with a wet towel to help you clean up. You couldn’t help but admire him from your spot on the bed as the warm light from the lamp illuminates him from behind.

Grabbing onto his arm, you pull him back to you, not caring about the mess you made on the mattress because right now, nothing matters. All you wanted was him.

He smirks at your neediness. “What would you do without me?” he jests.

But it’s true, you think. You wouldn’t be here without him. After recovering from your injury, you had nowhere to go, you didn’t even know where you were so he let you tag along with him and Ellie all the way back to Jackson which ended up giving you the normalcy you had always wanted.

Then came the first touch. The way his fingers played between your thighs and the feeling of him against you for the first time beneath tangled sheets showing you what true heaven felt like. And it was something akin to being reborn again.

Joel saved you in more ways than one.

You already knew it then. Knew it the moment you woke up after your mere brush with death and saw those beautiful brown eyes staring back at you. Knew it then that he had become your purpose.

That you’d devote your entire life to him.

Joel had become your God.

[dawnagustd]

the misfit toymaker || myg

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.     

➻ title: the misfit toymaker  ➻ pairing: toymaker!yoongi x f!reader  ➻ genre: fantasy | holiday | magic | smut  ➻ word count: 1.8k  ➻ rating: 18+   ➻ warnings: unprotected sex | infidelity | soft dom!yoongi | sub!reader | Sir kink | controlled orgasms | big dick!yoongi but wbk | slight edging | spitting/spit play | belly bulging | sex toys(swings, vibrators, suctions) | creampie | cum play | rough sex | light impact play | dirty talk | degradation | dungeons | bdsm | pet names | fingering | multiple orgasms | crying (the sexy kind) | rejection(i’m sorry) | impreg kink | suspension play | clit stimulation | oral sex(female receiving) | begging | overstimulation      ➻ author’s note: Part 3 has arrived. No lie this is one of my favs!! Once again, I won’t hold you. Thanks @taechwitaaah for beta reading and screaming with me. I hope y’all enjoy this as much as we did lol.

It wasn’t hard to locate your next stop. A toy store on Christmas Eve is like a flashing billboard sign. Especially when the only toymaker loves to burn the midnight oil.

Yoongi searches for any excuse not to go home to his estranged wife. The only reason they’re together is because of his kid, who just so happens to be one of Mr. Park’s pupils. 

He loves bringing smiles to all the youth’s faces, but Yoongi’s no saint. Mrs. Min wants nothing to do with her lowdown cheating spouse, and Yoongi couldn’t give a bigger shit.

He’s never been a monogamous man; whenever he finds a new playmate, the old one is no longer interesting. 

But you, however. You just might be his favorite. He couldn’t wait to drag you down to his dungeon of misfit toys and show you all of his erotic creations.

“Are you comfortable, doll?” he asks. “Your restraints aren’t too tight, are they?” 

You don’t hear him because your attention is set on the image of the toymaker’s veiny hand wrapped around his cock. He pleases himself while drinking in the sight of you, his delicate pink lips parted slightly as small, labored breaths slip past them. Each time his palm slides over his similarly textured shaft, arousal oozes from the tip. Suddenly, your mouth is dry, and the urge to fill it with–

“Hey. Eyes on me when I’m talking to you, beautiful.” 

He uses the other hand to lift your chin, gently demanding your undivided attention. The authority in his voice places you back in reality.

Your eyes wander up his figure, admiring his skin while getting drunk off of his touch. 

“Sorry about that, Sir.” You tug on the straps lightly to ensure they’re secure. “Yes. This feels nice.” 

Yoongi insisted on putting you in one of his many “swing sets” hanging from the ceiling. 

It’s thrilling being suspended feet in the air, your legs spread wide with your weight only supported by rope. Your wrists are bound also, leaving you entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But mercy, is not a term the toymaker is familiar with.

“I promise you, doll. You’ll feel even better once I stuff my cock inside of you.” 

Yoongi spreads your folds and reveals your wetness. The cold dungeon air hits your center, intensifying your sensitivity.  

“Damn, you’re wet,” Yoongi comments.

“Make it wetter, Sir.” 

You respond with so much need that he can’t resist the temptation. He’d rather drag this out and keep you down here for as long as possible, but the growing urge to fuck you senseless is too demanding.

Yoongi leans forward and allows his spit to drip into your opening. He watches in awe as your cunt accepts it graciously. Using two of his lengthy digits, he enters your pussy and prepares you for his throbbing cock. 

“Fuck, Sir!”

Yoongi’s thumb rubs your clit while he fingers you slowly, relaxing you so he can continue to stuff your dripping crevice.

“Take one more for me, doll?”

On your command, he adds another finger. 

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers.

The room begins to fill with the lewd sounds of your squelching juices, gushing out of you and covering Yoongi’s hand and wrist. He twists and curls his digits inside of you, searching for the spot that’ll have you falling apart. You cry out for him once he finds it, and he responds with a cocky smirk, knowing he’s about to ruin you before he even fucks you.

“Sir.”

“Come if you need to, doll,” he says. “I won’t get mad at you.” 

His voice is so gentle and sweet, a contrast to the dark lust-drunk eyes staring at you.

You can feel your core tightening with each passing second. Moans leave your lips, but the pleasure is so intense you cannot hear how loud you are. Eventually, you have no other choice but to let go.

His fingers guide you through your orgasm while he praises you with the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. He bends down to suck your pulsing clit between his lips, and your mouth falls open. Nothing comes out; you’re just reacting on nerves. Your brain has yet to catch up with the moment.

You slump over once you’ve finally calmed down, but you’re only given a few seconds to recharge before Yoongi’s cock is teasing your entrance.

“You ready to tap out, doll?”

You shake your head.

“Please,” you beg. “Continue. This is light work for me, Sir. Do your worst.” 

The toymaker wipes the smirk off of your face with his thumb; you know you’re fucked but you still play along.

“I sure hope you know what you’re asking for, baby doll.”.

His cock enters you slowly, not stopping until he’s filled you with every inch. Your pussy constricts and he’s unable to move. You both struggle to adjust to the tight fit.

“How are you so fucking big?” 

“Maybe you just can’t take dick like you think you can, doll.” His tone is condescending, making your face heat up. “I prepped you and you’re still having a hard time. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Bullshit.”

You speak out of turn and earn yourself a slap on the thigh.

“Now, don’t get disrespectful, doll.”

You bite your tongue and settle into your position. When Yoongi starts moving, the fullness becomes more bearable. The sensitivity ebbs away, and pleasure replaces it. The chill in the room fades as your body begins to heat up, and your sweat does little to keep the feverish desire at bay.

“You’re still so tight,” he points out. “Let’s loosen you up, doll. This won’t do.” 

Yoongi surprises you when he grabs one of his little toys. He flips the little switch, making the object buzz in his hand. “This one’s going to fuck both of us up.”

He places the vibrator directly onto your clit, and instantly, you see stars.

“Fuck! Sir, I can’t!...” 

You beg him to turn the settings down, but Yoongi only chuckles.

“Baby doll, I really haven’t turned it on yet.” 

A press of a button, and it reveals another feature that has your mind scrambled within seconds. The suction pulses around your sensitive bundle of nerves, stimulating you in ways you’ve never even dreamed of.

Your babbling gets you mocked and teased by the toymaker. All while he’s still stuffing you with his cock.

“Look at my sweet little doll,” he tsks. “So confident in thinking she could handle my cock but can barely keep it together. The nerve; what were you trying to achieve, baby?”

As if you weren’t already a mess, he turns up the settings. If the entire town didn’t hear your scream, then the room has to be soundproof.

“I’m going to come!” 

You sob and tremble as your body dangles in the air. Yoongi’s thrusts send you flying, but the hold on your waist never allows you to slip through his fingers.

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do for me if I let you?” he grunts.

He intentionally touches your cervix, making your eyes roll back. You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he notices the outline of his dick each time he enters your guts.

“Anything, Sir,” you promise. “Please. Just let me come!” 

You aren’t sure what sound is filthier, the noises your cunt makes as your juices gush onto the floor, or Yoongi’s wet sticky sac slapping your ass with every impact.

“Well, when I fill this cunt… You better not spill a drop. Understand?”

“Okay, I won’t. Now, please.”

“I hear you, doll. I hear you.” 

But relief doesn’t come as quickly as you thought it would. He turns the toy to the highest setting, making you lose your mind in seconds. Yoongi doesn’t hold back. When your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, he keeps fucking you like you’re a rag doll, bouncing you up and down on his hard shaft.

“You feel so good, doll,” he growls, slowing his pace. “I should keep you all to myself and pump my cum into you every night.”

“Sir, fuck!”

You try to calm down but hearing his deep voice filled with lust makes you hotter.

“Ahh… You like that. You wanna get knocked up, huh?” 

His cock starts twitching inside of you at the thought.

“Please.” At this point, you can’t even recognize your voice, but you continue to fill his ears with everything he wants to hear. “Sir, fill my pussy. I promise I won’t spill any.”

This is probably the closest Yoongi has ever been to finding true love because the look he gives you tells it all. He’s never met anyone so perfect, so willing to accept him. His orgasm snatches him out of his reverie, reminding him of a reality he’ll have to face very soon.

A moment later, ropes of his warm cum paint your womb, drawing pleasant sighs from your lips.

“Goddamn it, doll,” he whispers while his cock slips out of you. “You’re a fucking slice of heaven, you know that?”

Yoongi uses his finger to stop the seeping cum from dripping to the floor. He pushes it back inside of you repeatedly until he’s satisfied. He lowers you and then carefully helps you out of the swing, so you don’t fall.

“You’re quiet, doll. Are you okay?” 

You don’t respond but Yoongi still takes your hand and guides you up the stairs. Your palm feels so warm wrapped in his, and he can’t stop a smile from spreading across his face.

He takes one look at you and realizes he’s in deep shit.

“What’s on your mind, doll?”

Doll. 

He thinks that name is perfect for you. You may be a goddess, but you’re so delicate and cute. He wants you. He wants to keep you to himself despite knowing that he can’t.

“I’m hungry.” He wasn’t expecting that reply, but he doesn’t mind treating you to dinner after the things you just allowed him to do to you. “I want something… Sweet.”

“Well, there is a bakery across the street. He’s closed, but I know him so he’ll—”

You’re already heading to the door before he can finish his sentence. Yoongi quickly grabs his coat so he can cover your body. However, you turn around and place a hand on his chest to stop him.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You said you wanted to get something to eat.” 

Yoongi is slightly confused, but he laughs it off.

Those beautiful eyes stare into his soul, and he has no choice but to accept the fact that he’s whipped.

“Yeah… but not with you, hun.”

Your words leave him in shock, and he can only stand there frozen, watching you walk through the door and head over to his best friend’s store. The toymaker is heartbroken, and sad. But what can he say when this is how he carries on? You’ve got him, and you’ve gotten him good.

He laughs to himself, basking in the sweet smell of you that still lingers in the air.

“Damn, that was one wild sleigh ride.”

[zhongrin]

Merry Christmas Rin and here is my present to you

Santa Zhongli have a lot of presents for you if you feed him a cookie and drink his all of his creamy milk

Or

Perhaps you might like him coming home to you all tied up in ribbons and a pretty bow, the look on his face when he saw you made him speechless and highly aroused that it's evident by the bulge in his pants

"Welcome home darling would you like to open your present now or later"

after snapping out of the little daze he was in chuckled

"My it seems like I've been very good this year to deserve such a delicious present to ravage and fucked senseless to my heart's desire"

he's now towering over you staring with lust filled eyes that seems to be glowing almost like a predator hunting it's prey it sent a pleasurable chill down your spine

"Now then how should I open my present should start slow by peeling it off one by one kissing lower and lower or should I rip everything off and take you in the most intense feral rough fucking that will leave you dumb, drooling and begging to be used as my cum dump isn't that right pet but first I'm going to leave you tied up and eat you out until I have you squirting on my face before I have my way with you"

Well let's just say we had a very and I mean VERY long night and day(s) enjoying his present.

𝐬𝐫𝐜. — [NaVir_log] ✼ [hooang18]

milk and cookies

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ dragon!zhongli (you're at zhongrin at tumblr dot com, you shouldn't be surprised), afab!reader, sub!reader, fingering, (one) slap to your thigh, reader implied to have a voice kink, power imbalance, overstimulation, petnames (darling, dear, dearest, sweetheart, my love, beloved, pet, mate)

◇ a/n ◇ *head in hands* this was supposed to be a small blurb. a small blurb. how did it get to this point????

.... anyway.

MERRY HORNYMAS (this should've been the actual title actually) MY FELLOW DEGENERATES!! MAY YOUR HOLIDAYS BE FULL OF HORNY THOTS AND MAY YOU GET TO CUM AS MANY TIMES AS YOU WANT!!!! hsjdjskdj dirty talk with zhongli… *flashback to azeru’s latest rex lapis asmr* AHEM. while this isn’t as filthy as that, i think this suits zhongli better… altho morax still came out to play just a bit bc i’m a whore for him

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

“did you know that apparently, the tradition around this time of the year in the other nations is that you leave cookies and milk for the old man dressed in a strange outfit so he can give you a present in return?”

you’re not sure how that one innocent, nonchalant statement landed you in this position, but you honestly don’t really want to complain. not when your beloved is staring at you from between your legs - with those glowing eyes that shine brighter than freshly minted mora coins and that sinful draconic tongue of his eagerly lapping the mess you made after your… third? fourth? let’s just say fourth time seeing all white.

“want you in me, please, please-”

you’re reduced to tears and begging, just the way he likes it; an evident fact by the snarky lilt of his lips. the sharp talons dig into the flesh of your thighs, reminding you of the bestial ancestry of your lover. you know he would never draw blood from you without your consent, but the thrill, the danger, the knowledge that he is far more powerful than you - a puny mortal human with no adeptal powers whatsoever - rips a shameless moan from your lips and makes your cunt clench around nothingness.

archons, you just want him to fill you up already.

“patience, my dear,” he chuckles, and you realize in embarrassment that you’ve said your thoughts out loud, “you know how i like to take you. slow and sensual, before bringing you over the edge again and again… much like a well-written contract, i must make sure to prepare and highlight all the very delicate points clearly before delving to the main girth of the agreement.”

you would have rolled your eyes at his words if you weren’t craving and drooling for his cock. leave it to your lover to liken having such intimate moments to writing a contract.

the beautiful man presses a sweet kiss to your throbbing clit and moves to nibble your inner thighs, human fingers with neatly trimmed nails of his right hand replacing the soft skin of his lips, rubbing circles and pressing against the right spots. the sensual massage elicits a series of whines out of you, yet zhongli stays true to his words, taking his time to build your pleasure from the start all over again, greedily drinking your noises of pleasure and countless pleas for something more.

your gentle dragon coos lovingly and you inwardly thank rex lapis (the irony flies past your pleasure-soughting brain) for the finger that sinks into your velvety walls. it’s not enough, but it’s a start. it’s something, at least.

“look at you, clenching so tightly around one finger. darling, how will you ever make me fit inside you? maybe we should stop. i really don’t want to hurt my precious beloved.”

breath hitching, you grab onto his wrist before he can retreat completely, teary eyes staring right at his mischief-laden smile, “i can! i can take it! please, please don't pull out- don't stop-”

“oh? are you sure?”

you nod fervently, knowing that you’re willingly walking into a trap. but you’ve chosen to walk into the den of a dragon, and you already know you won’t be leaving until he’s satisfied. so you’ll gladly play the games he wishes to host - for you know it’ll end with both of you satiated. zhongli is anything but selfish, after all.

“very well… why don’t you show it, then. prove your… determination, so to say,” he nuzzles onto your thigh and readjusts his hold, “how many do you think you can take, hmm?”

“o-oh. uhm-” you stare bashfully at the way he splays his fingers on your crotch. his hands are always so pretty, you muse. slender and long, prominent knuckles and visible veins, always so warm and calloused from millenia of battles, dark colored as the fertile soil and pulsing with geo. he always knows how to flick his wrist, and he’s well aware of the effect he has on you when he chokes you with his fingers as he-

“darling, i asked you a question.”

with a sharp exhale, you spluttered a meek three? to which he replies with a hum. you’re trembling for excitement at the hard edges that have settled to his features. morax commands obedience, and it seems like the slight mistake you made has slightly ruffled his patience.

without warning, his beautiful fingers slide into you - an easily done action given the number of orgasms you’ve been put through, yet the unexpectedness of it startled you, and a curse word falls from your lips.

you don’t even feel the loss of his appendages; the loud slap and the burst of pain blooming across the skin of your thigh hits you first, and you arch your back in response, tears slipping down your temples, mouth lolling open in a loud wail.

“language.”

a meek apology is all you could provide before his fingers delved back into your sopping hole with newfound tightness. he’s going slow and yet he finds the spot that makes you scream in pleasure right away, having done this so many times it’s practically muscle memory for him. zhongli sighs fondly at the way you start bucking your hips, egging him to increase his pace, but he is unyielding as stone as he speaks with a warning in his voice, darkened and colored with lust and order.

“darling, stop misbehaving. aren’t you supposed to only receive your gift when you’re good?”

in other words, don’t be a brat or he’ll stop.

“i wanna cum,” you whine, more tears lining your pretty lashes, fists gripping onto the sheets in desperation. still, you ceased your movements upon his scolding, much to his delight.

“i know you do. and i shall make sure you do, dearest. all for me.”

the man shifts and stands onto his knees before crawling on top of you. he easily towers over your form in this half-dragon body, and when he settles his lips right before your ear as he restarts the sensual but precise thrusts of his appendages, you know.

you know you’re in for a treat.

honey sweet words with filthy connotations spoken in dulcet tones fill your ears. your eyes squeeze shut, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip as your senses focus on the otherworldly sensations consuming your whole being. the expert hand playing with your body, bumping against that spongy spot and causing more slickness to drip down the mattress. his breathing and the little growls and hums and chuckles filling your auditory senses, demanding your attention and sending jolts of pleasure right down your core.

“doing so good for me, darling. you were being a little bratty just now, but i can see how you’re trying so hard to be my good little pet.”

“can you hear how wet you are? dear me, i’ve just recently changed the bedsheets but here you are soiling them in record time. how naughty of you.”

“submit to your archon, sweetheart. let me take care of you. you’ve been working hard, haven’t you? you deserve a little reward… i’ll gladly provide that.”

“feel how good my fingers are. that’s right, good. keep tightening around me. you’re so adorable, my love…”

“are you imagining it was my cock instead? are you wishing it was my cock that was inside of you right now? oh, my beloved mate, did the thought just make you squeeze? hmm? are you close? you are, aren’t you?”

zhongli muffles your incoherent babbles with a kiss, stealing your breath and the last bit of your sanity away. your nails dig onto his bicep as he silences your moan with his tongue, your climax hitting you harder than your previous ones. your walls spasm and your hips squirm from the incessant thrusts of his fingers, but your lover stubbornly persists in helping you ride your orgasm fully. it feels like hours had gone past when he finally stops - and he only allows himself to do so once you’re twitching helplessly under him and pliant in his arms.

you’re sweating and drooling and crying. simply put, you’re a pathetic mess. yet as your loving spouse pulls away, all he sees is the most divine deity sprawled on his bed, coming down from the blissful heaven that he helped you ascend to, and so in a sudden burst of admiration and love, he places a gentle kiss onto your sweaty forehead.

you hum and close your eyes, allowing your body to rest and gathering your consciousness back into you, savoring the long kiss that speaks of appreciation, warmth, and adoration.

the moment of reprieve is suddenly broken when you feel him reposition himself, before a finger taps on your soaked clit.

“beloved, this old god is still quite thirsty… you’ll let me milk you some more before giving you your present, right?” he blinks and seems to have realized an error in his words, chuckling and giving you a hungry look as he uncaringly swipes his dirtied fingers through his damp bangs to slick them away from his face, hips jutting out proudly with an obvious bulge that’s far too big for normal mortals, straining against his pants.

“— ah, apologies... i meant presents.”

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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