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gamermattsgf · 2 months

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Tokyo drifters // drag racer Chris

Warnings: car sex / tit fuck / cum kink / fingering / cunnalingus / size kink / spit kink / enemies to lovers trope / dangerous driving ig (?) / mentions of smoking and brief mentions of alcohol / praise kink

Summary: what do you get when you cross a competitive drag racer with an equally as competitive opponent? Smoke, engine oil and a whole lot of sexual tension, that’s what.

Author’s notes: and so let the obsession with racer fics begin, but with a Chris flavoured twist. Chris strikes me as the illegal, reckless driver type, hence my modern twist on something very fast and furious-esque. Chris x drag racing actually makes me wet u guys I fucking love it, like- imagine him drifting around in a red Nissan Skyline gtr with his black and white leather jacket on, UGH it really just gets me going…

“We could do whatever you want, you could fuck me in the back of your car” - HER, Chase Atlantic

The black asphalt glimmers with a coat of wetness and a pattern of oil spillage slicked over the top of it, the technicolour rainbow greased and worming in the fluorescent lights of the street as the heavy hum of revved engines purr in your ears and echo across the emptied roads.

Beer bottles and cans splash here and there on the dripping concrete with discarded cigarette cases and lighters balanced on top of littered leather jackets.

Illegal drag racing. Bets. Stacks of money shoved into the pockets of the driver that is triumphant at the end of the night.

You’re here because this place is rife with the best of the best. The ones who really soak their hands in the leather of their steering wheels, who breathe the musk of their seats, and who burn the rubber marks of their legacies into the very streets that they rocket through each early A.M.

At present you stand to the side of the pavement, smelling the stench of broiling petrol mingled with the scent of flavoured cigarette smoke.

Your eyes survey the various Suzukis, Mustangs and Toyota drifters, all in different colours and all with different painted decals to signify each of the driver’s unique personality, wrinkling your nose at the lack of female drivers leaning against their own cars.

There are plenty of people here.

The rules are simple, you bet on the driver you wager is going to win and then whatever number of votes the driver receives determines their starting position at the beginning of the race.

As your eyes pass over the mingling people chatting in heaped groups with different drivers, you dismally notice the one person who you most definitely did not want to run into tonight. The only other person who can match your speed.

Great. Well that’s just fucking fantastic.

He is on his own. His lanky figure leaning against his electric red Nissan drifter with sleek black wheels and windows, his raven brown hair dusting his face in waving curls as his hands tuck themselves into his black and white leather racer jacket.

A long white cigarette lies perched in between his lips, smoke lazily oozing out from the lit cherry before dispersing into the cool night air in front of him.

He makes no effort to smoke it properly, simply lets it rest in between the purse of his lips whilst he too, observes his competition.

That is, until his eyes trail their way over to you. Now you’re both looking at each other, and he finds it within himself to cockily smirk, your silent rivalry unnoticed by the rest of the bustling audience here to simply bet and watch the race.

You scoff quietly, pushing your feet into a walk, you’ve got to go and talk to him now.

You gradually make your way across the sopping wet tarmac road, heading straight in the direction of the one man who always knows how to rub you the wrong way.

As you go, you fish one of your own cigarettes out of your cigarette case, and then light it. It sparks, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly whilst waiting for you to reach him.

When you do, you stop and nod at him in greeting, mumbling a curt ‘Chris’ after whipping your cigarette from out of your mouth and resting it within your pointer and middle finger.

To contrast your cold behaviour, your arch nemesis tilts his head playfully, his smugness practically oozing from his figure as he retorts with a ‘hey sugar… ready to lose tonight?’. Your nostrils flare.

The only reason you came tonight to race is because you didn’t think Chris would be here.

You fucking hate racing him, in fact, you hate even being within a close proximity to him. He drives you up the wall, irritates you to no end and most importantly- absolutely chokes you with conflicted feelings.

Because how can someone that you hate this much also be someone you feel so irresistibly attracted to?

Chris always finds the most painful of ways to dig under your skin and clamp his claws around you until you’re gasping for air and practically begging to be let free.

Free from the inescapable prison that coaxes you into constantly thinking about him, even when he’s not around.

‘You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you win tonight, that money is mine’ you spit a laugh, before feeding your cigarette into your mouth and inhaling it to calm your nerves. He makes your fingers twitch, and sometimes you’re not sure if it’s because you want to wrap them around his throat or use them to pull his neck down into a kiss.

He raises his eyebrows and starts to once again use the mocking lilt to his tone that you know oh-so-well. ‘Oh really? Because last time I checked I’m pretty sure that money had my name on it’. He readjusts his lean on his red Nissan to make himself seem taller, and you grit your teeth at his teasing antics.

You don’t answer, and instead open you mouth. Chris watches the smoke that you had been holding in your lungs come seductively curling out, and he swallows nervously. It mingles between you two like a barrier of attraction before melting away into the damp air above you as you resume your usual grilling.

‘How’d you even find out about this race anyway? Thought you stayed on the South side?’

Chris shrugs and basks in the obvious annoyance your voice contains. He knows he’s in dangerous territory, this is your side of town, and you know the roads way better than him over here. But then again, when has Chris ever backed down from a challenge?

Plus, he fucking loves teasing you. He gets such a rise out of it every single time, in which case it’s worth hauling his ass all the way over to the other side town just for a race.

Just to see you.

He can’t help it, he just can’t keep himself away.

‘Friend of a friend’ he responds vaguely, before deciding to pluck the almost burnt out cigarette from his lips so that he can thrust it to the floor and crush it underneath his sneaker.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t believe that Chris managed to weasel his way into this race, because it’s definitely going to ruin your chances of going home with that prize money. To say Chris is a reckless driver is an understatement, he’s fucking good, but he also takes risks, risks that bargain with his life and the lives of others, so naturally, when people see his notorious red car pull up to races they panic and stay far behind him.

Not you though.

‘You best count your fucking days Chris because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you win this time…’.

Chris chuckles, his eyes narrowing in a siren-like way before reaching up to your mouth and slowly pulling your cigarette from out of your lips. ‘Yeah…? Well we’ll see about that, won’t we baby cakes?’ he chides, before fully stealing your cigarette and putting it into his own mouth without hesitation.

Your blood boils at his persistence and you spin around in a rage, wishing you could just run him over with your car. At least that would stop the heartbeat from pulsing in between your legs at his weirdly sexual action.

After watching you whisk away, Chris quickly gets into his car and slams his red door closed, satisfied with how flustered you had looked. Revving his engine with a humongous effort to get the race going, he knuckles his leather steering wheel before pulling away from the crowd to let them know that the race will shortly commence.

He is definitely eager to prove you wrong as he observes the way the heavy crowd of people disperse from the middle of the road and let the competitors and their cars through to their designated spots for the countdown.

Engines throttle and rev, starting up and growling like hungry beasts whilst you get into your own car. You then drive to your own assigned spot which had been conveniently placed somewhere in the middle for tonight’s race.

Suddenly, you spot a flash of red roaring up from behind you in your rear view mirror and you resist the roll of your eyes at Chris’ boy racer behaviour.

Chris’ car comes creeping up to level with yours. Slowly, the driver’s window is rolled down and you are faced with his attractive side profile, his nose delicately curving and his jawline popped. Except, now his hair is pulled back by a red bandana, leaving his earrings to glint in the fluorescent artificial light.

He faces forward, but then turns with another smirk plastered to his lips.

You roll your own window down, your engine also screaming to go, but instead of a red colour, your car exudes a violet purple hue, your front and rear lights tinted indigo with plastic filters that make the car in front of you glow a hazy pink.

‘May the best driver win, sugar’

The devil’s smile is concocted between his own teeth, the cheeky glint in his eye echoing the way he mockingly puts his pointer and middle finger up to his forehead to salute you before putting his foot on the gas pedal and roaring ahead to take his privileged place at the front of the line.

᧔♡᧓

Engines growl, their exhaust pipes spitting out puffs of gasoline scented smoke whilst each of the multicoloured cars creep into their places.

An orange car motors past you on your right, and a grey and blue one slides past your left, leaving you in the wet spray that their scuffed tyres kick up, but you’re not paying attention to them.

Craning your neck, your eyes narrow and your jaw grits at the back bumper tail of Chris’ neon red vehicle, the red brake lights glowing like the eyes of a demon as he simply sits stationary.

The city lights glow from the skyscrapers and illuminate the starting route of your racetrack, the wet asphalt making the reflections of the luminescent lampposts shine and bounce about the technicolour array of cars on display.

Chris thinks he’s better than you? Well, you’re just going to have to put that theory to the test then.

You hope that his heart beats just as competitively as yours, his eyes constantly checking for your pink headlights in his rearview mirror.

Finally, reaching into your glove compartment to slide on your black tinted sunglasses, you shut it back up again to listen to the heavily increased revs of car engines. The muffled cheers from the audience provide white background noise whilst the drivers’ exhausts rattle and their pipes growl.

A woman in sky-high stilettos then comes walking into view with a white flag raised above her head.

The crowd suddenly silences, all on the edges of their seats with anticipation.

Without another moment to lose, she quickly swipes down the flag, the white fabric fluttering as she goes before engines shriek and cars jerk forward, each driver putting the pedal to the floor. This forceful way of starting roars the inner workings of their cars whilst they frantically try to switch gears.

Coloured machines weave in and out of each other as the gods of drag racing look down upon the fast-paced urgency of the race, drivers testing one another and pushing their bodies to the limits as they zip and swerve about the road.

You keep your eyes locked upon Chris’ monster of a car though, because it easily pulls out in front and his drive forward quickly clears of any other cars. They just can’t keep up with his intricate drift work and very readily fall behind him.

You’ll admit, his turn of the wheel is masterful and his eye for the surroundings is impeccable as he nearly just shaves around corners and obstacles whilst keeping a steady track of the pathway ahead. However, this only increases your desire to win more.

You find your foot gently feathering upon the accelerator, your car rattling within your ears as the wind from your open window beats against your face and whips your hair around your neck.

You have already overtaken a handful of cars by now, with tyres screeching and smoke exuding from the rubber.

The eyes of every racer competing constantly zip about, just to check for lurking police cruises whilst traveling down the racer’s route through the nearly abandoned city road.

Your beasts for machines rocket past alleyways, giving homeless people a show as your paint jobs flash by their eyes in a juvenile blur.

Gears click as both yourself and Chris constantly press down on the clutch to drift around tight corners, your teeth gritting as you realise that you are now only a few competitive cars behind him.

Chris, meanwhile, frantically looks through his wing mirror to count how many cars lie between yourself and him.

But, then he widens his eyes and has to adjust it in confusion at the infuriating sight of your purple car hightailing it up the road to try and catch him. Already?

This always fucking happens whenever he gets a head start.

He rolls his eyes, stepping on his gas pedal even more to makes his car groan and jerk away on in front once again.

His bandana stays secured onto his head whilst he chews irritably against a fresh toothpick selected from out of his own glove compartment that also contains random junk such as cherry cigarette packets and condoms.

‘Fuckin’ woman’ He spits underneath his breath before aggressively jerking his wheel to the side and rounding another corner perfectly. His car skids and his wheels screech over the asphalt, centimetres away from hitting the curb before he’s straightening his steering wheel up again.

This time though, he can see the finish line in the distance, the small crowd of spectators gathering like little observant ants, watching as his car comes racing towards them from the mist of the city horizon.

However, you come in straight behind him with your engine roaring and your gasoline bubbles popping. Soon, your window reaches his, and you look to your left to see his side profile.

His jaw is clenched with his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows sitting in a glared furrow. His pupils then quickly flit to your car, and you pass each other a challenging look, hate spiralling within your gazes.

And everything is passive between the two of you, that is, until Chris decides to fight dirty.

His lips purse and he yanks his neck to face forward once again, before turning his wheel aggressively. His drifter then swerves near your wheels, nearly knocking you off to the side and sending you skidding into the curb. You frantically have to straighten back up again after only narrowly avoiding the crunch of his front bonnet.

That fucker.

‘HEY!?’

You yell to him with your window down, but he puts his own one up in response, his lips twitching up into a mischievous smile as he tries to tango with you upon the stretch of your own battlefield containing engine oil and concrete road strips.

He goes in for another direct hit, your tyres dangerously close to each other’s as his machinery tries to ram into yours.

Worryingly, you realise that Chris probably isn’t going to stop this dangerous teasing because of his determination to win. So, through your better judgement, you slow yourself and defeatedly allow his cocky red bumper to cut in front of your bonnet.

Chris beats you by a second, his wheels screeching over the pathetic make-shift line drawn in squiggly black graffiti.

You’re practically seething at this point.

After you angrily jerk your steering wheel, your car drifts to the side and it expels hot smoke from the grind it has against your back tyres before coming to a sideways halt.

You put your car in park, take off your seatbelt and speedily open your car door.

As you step out, you see that Chris has also stopped and gotten out himself, his sneakers crunching against the wet tarmac and his leather jacket squeaking whilst he slams his own car door shut behind him.

You clock eyes with each other and immediately find yourself storming up to his victorious figure that yet again leans against his car door suavely.

Whilst making your way over, someone sidles up to him and hands him a thick wad of cash that he stuffs right into his conniving little pockets with a mean smile of his face, aimed directly at you.

As you reach him, you just can’t help yourself, and before you know it you’re knuckling your fists into his leather jacket and yanking him right down to your face. His breath hitches in shock as he sees your lips close enough to claim that you are practically kissing.

Instead of actually kissing him however, you spit out a ‘what the fuck are you playing at?’ with your eyes narrowed and glinting frostily in the city lights.

They travel over his face, scanning him with scepticism whilst little strands of his raven brown hair curl out from the hold of his red bandana, no longer combing the shorter ones back and just letting them freely swish about his eyes in the wind.

‘Listen honey if you want me to pay for any scratches I gave to your paint job no can do, told you that money was mine…-‘ he cheekily retorts, using one of his ridiculously irritating nicknames for you to further worsen your drumming heart beat.

You didn’t realise you had pulled him this close until now.

This makes your nostrils flare with anger and you quickly release him, seemingly in denial of your own feelings as you listening to the way the zips of his leather jacket jingle at the force of your strength.

You scoff, sticking your nose up and further voicing your discontent at him.

‘Chris- you fucking cheated?!’ You shout with a small laugh in disbelief, your arms crossed over your chest as you refer to his illegal drag collision.

‘No proof? Didn’t happen, sweetheart’ he sassily bites back at you, which makes you falter, but your glare only harshens after he immaturely pokes the centre of your chest.

Does this man just make it his mission to piss you off as much as humanly possible?

Both of you maintain tense eye contact, your chest heaving whilst Chris’ eyes subtly flick downwards to soak in the look of your body.

As more coloured drifters cruise past the finish line, the silence gets awkward, awkward enough for you to spontaneously shouts a shaky ‘I want a fucking rematch!’, not really sure what provoked you to voice this random request. Usually, you couldn’t bear to be around Chris for more than 5 seconds at a time.

So why did you all of a sudden have the urge to be alone with him?

The way you look at him prompts Chris to suspect that this request probably isn’t just about having a rematch, that in fact it’s something much deeper… what that is, he doesn’t know yet, but he’s prepared to find out.

Clearing his throat, he slips a box of cherry scented cigarettes from out of his leather jacket whilst looking around wearily. You swallow, and watch him in silence as he puts one into his mouth and flicks on his lighter. Holding it up to the cherry, it sparks, and a small wisp of smoke puffs out from his pursed mouth.

He opens the door of his Nissan once again before sliding inside.

The scent of maraschino cherries diffuses across his ride and melts into the white leather seats as he shuts his door before using his hand to turn on the ignition. Then, he rolls down his window to thankfully still see you standing there expectantly and waiting for an answer.

Chris simply sits back in his seat, watching the wind comb through your hair as sickly sweet cherry flavoured smoke finds its way up into your nose.

‘Well?’ You raise your eyebrows and snap at him, your hip cocking sassily. But even though your exterior front looks confident, your insides panic and your mouth becomes dry at the very much tangible sexual tension within the air.

Chris looks forward for a second, leaving the both of you in silence once again so that you can take in the far away laughs and clinks of beer bottles from the left over straggling gamblers that are now only talking about Chris.

He squints his eyes with his cigarette still in his mouth, deep in thought, before crinkling his nose and sniffing, reaching his hand out to twist the keys of his car in the ignition properly. His car rumbles to life as he takes out his cigarette, resting it in between his two fingertips.

That arm decides to leans itself on the car door as his wrist and hand dangle out of the window.

‘Meet me at Carolina Point at 3am’

He mumbles to you, as if not wanting anyone else to know about this secret little rendezvous before he’s pushing down the handbrake of his car and it’s lunging forward.

He motors away with a singular hand gripping the steering wheel, turning it smoothly and leaving you with the remnants of his car exhaust fumes, his cherry cigarette butts and the smell of his black and white leather jacket.

᧔♡᧓

It’s 3am.

And music quietly hums from your radio as you pull up next to Chris’ parked car, the glittering red paint job a flashy eyesore when matched with the dark background of the skyline.

Carolina point overlooks a section of the city that is well known by racers like him and yourself and so it provides a nice backdrop for the strange meeting that you two are about to have. Chris sits on the bonnet of his car, looking down to the veins of his city before twisting his neck to observe the way you get out of your own car.

A small smile ticks at the side of his lips before he quickly wipes it away and stands up from his bonnet, the machinery creaking and the suspension bouncing upwards after being released from his weight.

‘Surprised you came’ he muses, before spitting the old toothpick from in between his lips into the long grass.

You roll your eyes and meet him halfway, already nervous about being alone with him in such a close proximity, especially after what had already unfolded between you two beforehand.

‘Course I did, you cheated’ you muse spitefully, and stop right in front of his taller frame. But Chris edges a little bit closer after you had come to a halt, which makes your palms sweat.

You try to keep your composure, fully intent on getting on with the business of the rematch you had wanted, until you fail when you physically watch the way Chris’ eyes dilated at the sight of you.

It makes you nervous to see his body react to you in such a way, and that nervousness only gets worse after he intentionally lowers his voice to purr a quiet ‘oh yeah? An’ how are we gonna fix that hm?’. His head tilts and his tone is as smooth as caramel, the tease almost belittling in manner.

Your chest expands with a stuttering deep breath, the smell of cherries tart on his tongue and overwhelming as the scent stains his jacket too.

Your heart quickens in pace the closer Chris’ head gets to yours, but you don’t move back, even though every siren in your body imaginable screams that this is so terribly fucking wrong.

You blink up at him, almost forgetting why you’re supposed to be here before dumbly stuttering ‘b-by having a rematch…’.

Chris looks at you so hungrily… so primally, and you hardly even get the time to finish your sentence before your mouth is being engulfed by his. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and neither do you.

His lips are soft and buttery as they rub against yours, your whole entire body stiff and your eyes wide, before you ever so slowly melt into his embrace.

Chris utters a quiet whimper of content and the noise almost makes you squeeze your thighs together. You didn’t even realise Chris was capable of making a noise like that.

Your lips smack together after Chris pulls away, saliva wetting the moist pink skin.

You’re trapped within a daze, utterly stunned and drunk on the taste of his mouth. Chris’ eyelashes feather, and he bites his lip in nervousness, testing the waters of what he’s just done to you. But you look as though you’re absolutely enamoured by it and so he grins in satisfaction.

He goes back again, this time more aggressively, to suck and pull on your lips, and you freely let him, not a single thought behind your eyes apart from the way his teeth pull on your flesh.

‘I- I want a rematch’

Chris pulls away just once for you to voice this timid defiance, however his only thought is concerned with how deliciously red and juicy your lips look. He acknowledges you only by dipping back in and pressing another soft kiss to your peachy pillows, humming a little ‘mhm’ in agreement but also not really listening to you as his face twists and his nose brushes against yours.

The wet sound of his lips sucking your plumper ones into his mouth makes your panties dampen.

‘What if I wanna make it up to you in some other way?’ He daringly mumbles against your lips which wets the skin even around them with his saliva. The arch of your back is subtle, but it’s still fully there as you weight up the pros and cons of this situation. But really… are there any cons aside from the afterthought of knowing that you let your sworn enemy touch your body in the most intimate of places?

At the present, it seems like such a small price to pay within the delusion of your lust. And Chris’ hands already feel just so magical when their big impressions carve their way down your waistline, sliding over the bumps of your hips.

Fuck they’re huge in comparison to yours. And that thought alone makes you wet, your folds becoming even slicker at the motion of Chris using his hands to force you up against the hard side of his car.

The metal and glass behind your back makes you shiver and the machinery is freezing cold in the already frosted mountainous air of Carolina point.

This cold suddenly brings you clarity, and for a second you have to fully stop and pull away from his intoxicating tongue, just so you can voice a stupid ‘wait- what are we doing…?’.

Your mind goes reeling and your eyes look like saucers when remembering just who you are kissing… and who is pushing you up against his car.

Your chest heaves and your voice sounds fully strangled, the vision of making out with Chris plaguing your mind and turning it rotten.

But Chris only gazes at you, understanding how weird this must feel, because it feels weird to him too. However he can’t help it, one taste was enough for him and now he’s hooked.

He pushes back into you with haste, his thick hips greedily pinning you to the side of his car as he groans an ‘ugh- fuck it, who even cares anymore?’.

It’s almost like he’s jointly voicing this to his own self control, because he then allows himself to messily paw at the side of his vehicle, frantically looking for the door handle to his back seat whilst fully enthralling himself within your kissing lips.

Your tongues twist, and it’s messy, but you love it just the same. Especially after feeling Chris beneath his baggy black jeans, thick and throbbing for you when he moans in approval at the touch of the door handle.

He curls his fingers into it and yanks it open, the suctioning sound of the door making your heart gallop tenfold because of the connotations that come with Chris forcefully pushing you into the backseat of his car.

Are you two really about to do this? What even happened to get you to this stage?

It all seems like such a blur now, the spontaneity of your actions helping to numb the idea of regret. An idea that you know you’re defintely going to feel in the morning.

But not tonight… tonight is about wandering hands and careless affections, between two people who just so happen to supposedly ‘hate’ each other.

He grabs you with a growled laugh of ‘c’mere’, his large palms splaying underneath your thighs as he hoists you into his arms and walks you around the sharp edges of his red door.

Practically throwing you inside, he’s eager to clamber in himself and restart his torturous decent of your luscious neck skin.

So he does, and he slams the door behind him whilst doing so.

Meanwhile, you spread your legs to let him into you, your ass sinking into the plush white leather of his seats as your back comes to rest against the opposite side door.

Now you’re seeing a completely different Chris, that hovers over you and gives you that toe curling gaze he’s perfected over the many months of first competing with you.

The gaze is reminiscent of the first time you two ever raced together, with a hint of attraction and chemistry there, until you started to hate each other as soon as it became more of a competition to see which one was better.

This Chris is so astronomically different in comparison to the one you had grown to absolutely despise, the two of you stuck in this viciously competitive cycle of building up tension after tension until all of it just burst and ended up with Chris’ head right in between your legs.

He yanks off every single article of clothing wrapped around your lower half, trying to resist the urge of snapping open your underwear and making a mess of the delicate red lace as soon as he sees it.

Fuck. You’re even wearing his racing colours.

‘These for me?’ He teases and raises his eyebrows whilst simultaneously slipping off your panties and lifting them to the side of his face.

Without knowing any better, you smirk and nod, guessing that it’ll drive his narcissism absolutely crazy. And you’re right. Because soon after, he scrunches up the soaked panties into his fist and throws them up to the front of the car. They messily then land on the dashboard.

He smirks down at your shining red cunt, wet stickiness practically drooling from out of your hole already.

‘Imma drive with your panties on the dashboard all the way home so that anyone who seems them will know how good I fucked this pretty little pussy…’

You swallow a pant at his crude language, not being able to help the shake of your hands or the blink of your eyes. ‘Do it… for me?’ You coquettishly breathe back, and it only drives Chris up the wall further. With this being said, he obeys and darts his head down to your centre, wasting no time in peppering small suctioned kisses against your inner thighs.

They quiver as soon as his face gets closer to your centre, and you know he’s just about to put his tongue on you because he smirks, gearing up to say another filthy thing.

‘M’sorry I cheated baby’ he pouts boyishly, before giving your clit an open-mouthed kiss.

You whine and buck your hips up into the firm hold of his rough hands, that have slid around to force you down and keep you from squirming away at his stimulation. ‘Forgive me?’ He speaks with his head tilted. Then a thick globule of spit comes tumbling from his mouth to plink onto your throbbing heat.

It greedily rolls down your pinkness and Chris goes in for another heavy kiss, this time closing his eyes to eat you like his life depended on it, licking around you clit and even dipping himself into your hole. He’s not sure when he’ll next get the chance to fuck you like this and so savours it with as much fever as he possibly can.

All the while, you lie with your back propped up against the opposite door, looking down at him with your calves smoothly slung around his shoulders.

You hypnotically watch how your thighs twitch at every opportunity Chris gives you, his tongue rolling over several pleasure points in an effort to get you to come.

‘Mmm-okay’ you moan before bitting your hand and mumbling through your teeth ‘I forgive you, please- please just let me cum’.

He had been savouring this for a while now, leisurely dipping his tongue in and out of you whenever he felt like it as he pressed his other palm over the thick bulge in his jeans, trying to suppress its ache by kneading it downwards and squeezing himself.

He struggles not to openly thrust his hips into his hand at the tiny whimpers you make, because you sound so pretty trying to reach your high.

He sighs before giving you one last rolling kiss. ‘I guess that’s only fair, alright I’ll let you cum sweetheart’.

Straight after he says this you let out a heaved ‘Jesus Christ!’, your cry brandishing tears within your eyes as one of Chris’ long fingers unexpectedly slide right up into your throbbing cunt, your precome already acting as natural lubricant to coat his skin.

It’s almost mouthwatering how good it feels, for both you and Chris. His finger seems to fit in there perfectly, and so he adds another, stroking your walls and curling them upwards delicately.

‘Can you fit three in there baby…? Please let me put three in… you look pretty when you’re drooling for my fingers’ he whines, his voice high pitched and begging for you to allow him the pleasure of three.

‘Fuck- yes, please, please put three in. I can handle it!’ You moan in desperation, not really knowing what to do with your hands, so one feeds itself into his luscious brown locks whilst the other one curls around the white leather headrest of the back seat you’re sitting on.

You white knuckle it when Chris effortlessly coos ‘there’s a good girl… gonna make you feel so good’ whilst inserting his third finger, its length making your back arch and the windows of the car fog up.

‘Look at you… fucking up the back of my car, needy girl’ Chris muses whilst observing the way some of your wetness leaks out and blobs onto his nice white leather seats, the condensation of your horny breath staining the windows and your hand practically clawing at his headrest whilst his fingers work inside of you.

‘S-shut up. You wreck the outside of my car, I’ll wreck the inside of yours’ you bite back sassily, your whole entire chin tipping back in ecstasy as you feel your orgasm clawing beneath the lining of your gut.

Chris’ fingers speed their pace at this, and the squelch of them working past your screaming orgasm nearly makes him cum all over himself within his pants, especially after hearing your continuous moan at the motion his harsh fingertip thrusts.

After you calm, you careen forward to grip onto the wrist of his hand, tapping out immediately in overstimulation. He pulls his sopping wet fingers from out of your core and then lollipops them into his mouth.

As you sit there and regain your breath, your cheeks redden impossibly further at Chris’ quipped demand of ‘take off your top’, still with his fingers bitten in between his teeth.

You do as he says, watching him pull his hand back out of his mouth with hooded eyes as you peel off the tight fabric.

He doesn’t even have to tell you to take off your bra either, you just do it, giving him the gorgeous sight of your tits resting on your chest.

‘This good enough for you?’ you tease, letting one of the straps from your bra slide down your pointer finger before tossing it next to your already discarded panties that sit upon his dashboard.

Chris blinks at your devilish action in shock, before putting a smirk back onto his handsome face.

‘Oh I am going to fuckin’ destroy you’ he cackles playfully, before curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and pulling your body to lay down horizontally.

You gulp as you tilt your chin upwards, watching the way he pulls his jeans and his underwear down with his gleaming cock springing up to hit his lower abdomen.

Licking your lips, you have to squeeze your thighs together at the sight of it as he then turns towards you and advances forward, with his lower half bare and his racer jacket and black t-shirt still in tact over his top half.

His pulsing cock stands on end, and he bites his bottom lip whilst clambering over your thighs to get to your stomach, much to your utter confusion.

That is, until you realise why he asked you to take your top off in the first place.

Planting his knees on either side of your underarms, they sink into his plush leather as he towers over you, grinning at your heaving chest. From his height advantage, he gathers a jewel of spit into his mouth and tips his head forward, allowing it to ooze outwards and splash against the valley in between your tits.

You swallow at this, watching as he then shuffles downwards and leans the head of his dripping prick onto the puddle of saliva he had created.

‘Push your pretty tits together sugar’.

Now when using this nickname, it sounds sickly sweet instead of full of malice, coated with a thin layer of cherry sauce as his cheeky grin perfectly mirrors the cheeky action of him using his hands to help you squeeze the sides of your tits together.

Your skin feels sticky with Chris’ spit and Chris lets out the ungodliest of groans when pushing his tip forcefully into the crack between them.

You hiss in pain at the feeling of Chris’ cock wedged against your tits, but bite your lip and ignore it in favour of watching the way he fucks his hips into them.

His pink head disappears in and out of the top opening and he has to fall forward and grip his hands onto the door to keep himself steady. He ruts himself faster with the added security and his car begins to shake at the aggressive motion.

He had done the majority of building up his orgasm whilst eating you out, so now all he had to do was finish it off, and what better way to do that than with his cock buried in between your tits?

‘Fuck Chris-’ you mumble with your mouth dropped open and your eyes glued to the way small drips of precum already leak out from his cock onto the flushed skin of your chest.

‘Ugh- I’m… I’m cumming- fuck- open your m-mouth’ Chris moans into the air, squeezing his eyes shut as the elastic band of his orgasm snaps and forces cum to come squirting out of his head, some of the sticky white liquid coating your chest, but the other half of it finding its way into your open mouth.

You wait for Chris to milk himself dry, your tongue still out expectantly, until he sees that you’re wanting permission to swallow it.

To help you, he reaches out one of his tremouring fingertips to gather up the cum smeared over your chin, then he slides them into your mouth.

You suck on them, swallowing all of what he has to give you with a tired but appreciative hum as he looks down at you with glassy eyes of complacency.

What the fuck just happened between you two… and why did he feel like he wanted to do it all over again?

᧔♡᧓

‘You still really not gonna pay for any of the scrapes you gave my car huh?’ You speak up into the awkward silence as Chris shuts the back door of his Nissan, leaving the smell of sex to permeate within his car.

He lights one of his cigarettes and snorts, trudging his way around to the front of his car before yanking the door open, your bra and panties still resting on the dashboard and yourself still very much naked underneath your regular clothes.

‘In your dreams sugar’.

There’s another silence as the two of you just look at each other, not knowing if whether or not you’ll ever see each other in that kind of vulnerable light again.

One thing is for sure though, no one can ever know about what happened here tonight.

Chris looks almost hesitant to go with his face softening and smoke tumbling from out of the red cherry of his cigarette. He blinks to snap himself out of it though.

‘Cya at the next race baby…’

He tips his head and then slides down into his car as you look at him wantonly.

‘Yeah… cya’.

᧔♡᧓

Author’s notes p.2: hot. RIVAL RACERS AND ENEMIES TO LOVERS TROPE OH YEAHHH. This is defintely the longest fucking thing I’ve done so I apologise for that lol. And I’m also equally sorry for the ridiculously long wait omg, I’ve been hyping this up too much so I’m sorry if it’s not that great bc most of it was written on major sleep deprivation haha. Also guysss exciting stuff is happening as I’m almost at 2,000 followers and me and @luv4kozume have got something really fun planned for us both hitting 2k!!

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#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader

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angxlofvenus · 10 months

Note

Hii! I saw your requests were open and I thought I'd give you a hc/fic idea:

The brothers (or whoever you'd like to write for) reacting to Mc using their shampoo/ soap in the shower for whatever reason ^^

I hope this makes sense to you lol, anyways I hope you're having a wonderful day/night, don't push yourself too hard, and drink water!! You can also take any creative liberties you seem fit, or if you decide you don't want to write it I won't be offended ^^

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Thank you so much for the request!! This is absolutely adorable, I hope everything is to your liking, Have a great rest of your day/night !! Genre: fluff Ship: Reader x brothers + Diavolo (individual headcanons) TW: clingy demons, minimal cussing, no use of readers' pronouns, second-person pov

When You Use Their Shampoo

Stepping into the shower, You were greeted with the nice hot/cool water raining from above, Going to start your routine, You reached for your shampoo bottle only to find it empty! Looking around you spotted his shampoo and conditioner, surely he wouldn’t mind… right?

Lucifer

100% smells it on you no matter how little you used

Won’t tease you in public but as soon as ya’ll are alone? Ho ho, he’ll never shut up about it

Smug, the definition of smug

You had to go and inflate the ego of The Lord of Pride even more

Very possessive afterwards

Congrats, You know have a scary guard dog demon!

Mammon

He probably wouldn’t even really notice at first

He’d probably compliment how good you smell, Then would slowly realize…

Great, Now he's yelling gibberish while his face slowly gets redder and redder

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, don’t do that to me!” But will become very clingy

If you say his shampoo smells good, he may lose his mind.

“Well of course ya wanted to smell Like the great Mammon!”

Levi

Poor awkward nerd

He never saw this coming

I think he would realize you used his shampoo but won’t say anything

Flustered to the max

You have broken him

Levi.404 has stopped working, please reset.

After like the third day, You’re gonna have to bring it up

Secretly really likes it, Won’t tell you that though

Satan

I think he is very picky about scents so he knows as soon as you walk into the room

A little bit of a tease, asking if you were trying out a new shampoo

Smug 2.0

He would tease you a little bit around the others but not bad

He would flood you with compliments, You using his shampoo would make him very lovey-dovey

Expect him to ask for ya’ll to just use the same stuff from now on

Asmo

Oh honey, he knows.

He knew before you even got out of the shower.

But that doesn't mean he's any less excited!

Better plug your ears because he will let out the loudest squeal known to mankind

Seriously, Lucifer may come and check on ya’ll helicopter mom

Asks what you do and don’t like about it

He just wants you to feel as fantastic as he does when using it

Everyone will know you used his shampoo, He brings it up in every conversation

Would also 100% ask you to use his bath products 24/7

Beel

Now Beel has never been really into insane products like Asmo or Luci

So he may not really recognize it at first

If you decide to tell him, This man will become a happy demon puddle

He’ll give you a big smile and tell you you’re free to use any of his stuff at anytime

We don’t deserve Beel

Will bury his face into your hair and just stay there

Takes you out to Hell’s kitchen that night just because he loves you so much

Belphie

Oh this little shit

Tease! He won’t quit bragging!!

Smug 3.0

Such a brat about it too, He won’t let anybody near you, Well of course he’d let Beel, but who wouldn't?

He has practically locked you up in the attic with him

Why go outside when ya’ll can cuddle?

Diavolo

Has really expensive products

He may even have a custom scent

If so, He’ll know instantly that you’ve used his shampoo

He’ll bring it up with a large grin on his face

When you confirm his suspicions, he’ll just laugh

He’s so happy ya’ll are close enough to share things like that, You have no idea!

He may make a sly comment to Barbatos or Lucifer just because he’s a little possessive

Will follow you around like a lost puppy, Now Barbatos is mad at you because even less of his work is done

He can’t help it! He just loves you!

Will be the third on my list to offer ya’ll to just share bath products

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crystalflygeo · 4 months

Text

How to Warm Up your Dragon ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: ngl this is MOSTLY VERY FLUFFY but it has a veeeery spicy part ehehehehe, praise kink, biting, bit of rough sex, creampie, dirty talk. Reader is technically Fontainian but you can ignore that tbh

notes: Y'ALL THIS HAS BEEN ON MY WIPS SINCE BEFORE FONTAINE IT'S BEEN SOSOSOSOSO LONG I started writing at the start of winter here, now it's summer lmao but hey at least it's winter in the northern hemisphere so... enjoy the snow and dragon man!! Also also... no one guessed what the gift was but Rin was the closest!

Your mother always used to say the way to a man's heart was with food.

you wonder if that applied to archons... er, dragons? adepti?

In any case...

Zhongli has always been a... particular eater. A very refined palate. It's not that he was hard to please, to tell the truth. But he always seemed to have an extra comment, something to add or change to a dish to make it ‘a little more special’.

But you'd quickly find out he had a soft spot for broths and soups, bamboo shoot soup being his particular favorite. Even when it took a lot of hard work and time to prepare, the way he did so was worth it, simply spectacular.

That's why you could almost cry with joy when he happily praised one of your favorite dishes. A fantastic soup d'oignon passed down on your family. Nothing to add, no extras or corrections, he'd enjoy it to its fullest talking about the creamy texture and unique flavor of the cheese so different from those found in Liyue.

So, today you decided to prepare it. Nothing better to warm up on this chilly season, and besides you'd just received a shipment of ingredients from your family.

The rhythm of a knife on a cutting board fills the air, along with a delicious smell. You finish slicing the onions into thin strips and add them to the pot at the stove, humming lightly while stirring. You really hope nothing would keep your dear Zhongli too busy today, so he could be just in time to enjoy this while still fresh and warm.

You turn off the other burner as the beef stock had already warmed up, and start washing some dishes while keeping an eye on the food. It is… rather amusing just how domestic this all feels. Not too long ago you were adventuring over Teyvat, facing off all sorts of crazy dangers, exploring, and never stopping in one place and now… now this feels like home.

And that is without taking into account who your fiancé even is. The former Geo Archon. You shake your head with a light chuckle. It’s still so weird to think of such an imposing figure from legends to be so… him.

You dry your hands and start to pour the broth on the now-golden onions, stirring.

Zhongli is sweet, caring, attentive, wise, with just the right words at the right time. Admittedly a bit airheaded at times, funny when he wants to be. A refined gentleman through and through unlike anyone you’d ever met.

And he loves you.

And you’re engaged.

Warmth rises up to your cheeks along with a small smile as you lower the heat and start grating the cheese.

You heard sounds at the front door and then steps. Oh, early today. Zhongli walks up to you with a smile, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek, his hands resting at your waist as he leans in from over your shoulder. “Welcome home, Li.”

“Thank you” He replies in that deep suave voice. “That smells good my love, would you like some help finishing?”

You shake your head a little. “Please, there’s no need, you just got home. Go take a bath and unwind a little, I’ll finish here and we’ll eat.”

Zhongli looks as if he’s about to say something but simply nods. “Hmm, alright then.” He pulls you a little closer in his embrace, as if he’d missed your contact, your scent. Zhongli inhales deeply, tension seeping off of his body and he gives a soft kiss at your shoulder before almost regretfully pulling away. You chuckle a little and stir the pan.

How domestic and loving indeed.

…

Later when the food is ready and served, he returns to the small kitchen dressed in much more casual and comfier robes. Your eyes linger a little on the small expanse of exposed skin at his neck and chest and then stop at the way his long hair is tied up in a bun.

“Not washing your hair today?” You ask casually, taking your seat.

“I… Perhaps I have gotten rather used you doing it. I simply didn’t feel like it.”

You can’t help the short laugh that escapes you, even as you try to cover it a little. “Is this your way of saying you wanted me to bathe with you?”

His golden eyes twinkle. “I would certainly enjoy indulging in that more often.”

Your cheeks flush and you avert your eyes.

He takes a spoonful of soup and hums, closing his eyes to appreciate the flavors. “The finest ingredients cooked with true expertise. Simply divine, my love, thank you.”

“Flatterer.” You say, a little embarrassed but he can see right thought it, your little grin, the little shift in your posture.

“I am simply stating the truth.” He replies and continues eating. You can see his shoulders relax and the small satisfied smile at the warm food, it makes you a little giddy as you start eating as well.

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

bundling up during winter was obvious, right?

Putting on layers and layers of clothes. And true, perhaps Liyue didn't get as cold as other nations such as Fontaine, Mondstadt or of course Snezhnaya, but maybe it was exactly for that reason the temperature drop seemed to affect everyone all the more. Besides, the people would take any excuse to show off their fancy coats, scarves and other cold-climate outfits.

Zhongli naturally wore many layers, and he did mention once or twice he wasn't as affected by the cold. Yet, his business partner had gifted him a thick snezhnayan cloak.

The thing was entirely ridiculous, too bulky with a fluffy overtop, the colors dark and cool not matching Zhongli at all.

And yet he'd used it! (Only twice... but still)

You were not jealous, not at all.

You just wanted to... give him something he'd also enjoy and wear around, yes. Something personal, something he’d like and look at and remember you.

But what?

Ugh, it’s not like you were really well versed in sewing. Back at home you’d even had some machinery for that, but here in Liyue… you wracked your brain thinking what could you give him. He had quite a few elegant outfits, fitting him perfectly and enhancing all his attributes, all personally tailored by one of his late Yaksha so they held immense sentimental value as well… how could you compete with that?!

Right, right, it was not a competition. You sigh. Zhongli will probably be happy with anything you give him, but still…

An idea pops into your head and you can’t help but chuckle. Oh, it’s so silly… but maybe…

Simple enough, personal, something he’d use during the cold season only around you. Could work, you decided as you pick up your things to go visit the textile shop.

If nothing else, it could at least get a good chuckle out of Zhongli, right?

And so, for a few days you work on your little project. Turns out sewing was indeed a little harder than expected but you were trying your best. The kind lady who’d sold you some excellent wool had also given you some tips and they proved to be most useful indeed!

Regrettably you didn’t exactly have the right measurements so you more or less eyeballed them. Eh. It’ll be fine…

Zhongli almost came close to finding out too, though you were inconspicuous enough. You’re sure he suspects something.

“It will all be worth it, it will all be worth it…” You mumble to yourself with a frown as you finish trimming one of the stitches. Your fingers hurt.

…

“Li! I have something for you!” You exclaim happily, hands behind your back holding the wrapped-up item you had worked so hard on. An excited glow on your smile and bright eyes.

“Oh? Am I going to finally see what you’ve been guarding to secrecy this past week?” He replies coolly with a knowing smile, amusement dancing on his tone as he places his teacup down.

Nothing escapes him.

“Yes” You present him the gift, your hands then fidget nervously, having nothing else to do now. “I hope you like it! It’s… my first time doing something like this… i-it may not be that good, it’s kind of silly but-”

“Darling please do not fret, I would love anything you give me.”

Your shoulders relax.

Zhongli unwraps the paper and finds a rich dark brown fabric staring back at him, he picks the item and opens it, trying to gauge its shape, thick wool, a little rough around the edges but you did mention it was your first try and he is honored enough you’d make such effort for him.

However…

What is it exactly?

He turns the item around trying not to show too much confusion on his face as to insult you or make you feel bad, it looks like… a severely oversized legwarmer?

“It’s…” You start, feeling a little shy and silly once more. “…for your tail.”

Recognition shines in his eyes and he blinks at the item.

“You- I know you like to let loose a little around the house and let your illuminated beast features show, I love you tail too but I know… the scales get cold easily a-and usually we just bundle up with a blanket but I thought-”

“I love it.”

You stop running your mouth as soon as he utters those words, Zhongli looks at you with a gentle calm and your heart could melt at the sincerity in his expression. “No one had ever made something like this for me.”

He stands and unfurls the item, then, in a flash of gold his dragon tail manifests, majestic as ever and swaying lazily, the tuft of fur at the end flickering with each move. He maneuvers a little to slip the ‘tailwarmer’ on and though it sags a little, much to your relief it at least fits nicely. There is a yellow diamond pattern near the base that you’d started working on but deemed too difficult for a first try. It was a cute little detail though, maybe next time.

“Warm and cozy.” He chuckles and you beam at him, before letting out a squeak as said dragon tail curls around you, pressing your forward against his chest.

“Thank you, my love.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead.

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

The air is hot and heavy as soft moans and grunts fill the room.

Well, this was certainly a way to warm up… and get some good cardio.

You pant and squirm on the plush surface of a heavenly mattress as the familiar weight of the ex-archon descends upon you. His arms going from a golden orange hue to a deep charcoal, lines of gold thrumming across his skin, glowing softly in periodic pulses up strong muscular arms. Golden horns rise from soft brown hair curled at the tips, two on each side like a crown, while a powerful scaly tail wraps around your calf holding your leg up, spread.

This is Rex Lapis. Morax. Any other number of names he had. This is the Geo Archon.

“Zhongliii!” You whine, his hands caressing your body, claws teasing along your skin, pinching a nipple, fangs grazing your collarbone and a long serpentine tongue licking a hot stripe across your neck.

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, already rock hard and burning like a brand, your hips canting for more. For him to finally fill you, to feel his thick overwhelming girth stretch you, breed you… you want to be filled so full it overflows, so that it dribbles down your thighs and ass in thick, slick rivulets of his love.

“Patience my love.”

You whimper and jerk at that, about to cry out for him again when he rolls his hips and sinks in your warm hole. Your breath catches in your throat as your head throws back on the soft feather pillows.

He pushes into you inch by inch, carving a space for himself with a soft rumbling groan. His lips seek yours as his hands slide to your hips and press hard enough to bruise. His kiss devouring, all-consuming with need as he bottoms inside you, hips pressed flush.

Gods you feel so full, stretched and filled every inch and then some, and he doesn’t allow you a moment to pause and adjust either. A beast of a man in the best of ways, he withdraws halfway, only to slam forward in a fluid firm thrust.

“Mng-! Ah!”

“Mine. All mine. S-so warm and thigh- nghh…”

His pace starts slow, his voice alone enough to drive you crazy with how deep, carnal, animalistic it is against your neck. Sharp canines teasing the elegant column of your throat as he moves.

“Oh! so good… Li… f-faster… faster ple-ahhn!” Your voice pitches high as you babble, pleasure coiling on your gut.

“As- you desire…” Strained words still sounding like the very embodiment of sex, his voice so sinfully deep, so erotic it washes over you like liquid silk, like molten gold, only heightening the sensations of his quickening pace. In and out, in and out, skin slapping on skin. “You’re… you’re so perfect for me-”

You take him so well, your legs spread wide, your back arched, your insides molded to his length, enveloping him in the most mind-blowing of heats. The bed creaking as Zhongli delivers another powerful thrust, hitting a sweet spot deep within you and making you elicit a sharp keening sob of a moan. Your hands scrambling from the sheets to seek purchase at his back, curled up under his arms to scratch viciously trying to hold onto something, anything as he drives into you thrust after thrust after thrust-

“I’m- I’m gon-ahnn! Z-Zhongli… ooohh!”

Fuck you are close. So, so close…

He nips at the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. “Almost there… little one.” He huffs between strained grunts and you whimper at the pet name. Golden claws sink on the bedsheets, gripping thigh for leverage as he moves faster, frantic, hips like pistons he fucks into you like a wild animal, the bed rocking, shaking with each thrust. “C-close…”

You mewl and moan, unable to form coherent thoughts anymore but just feel the hot burning pleasure, his warm puffs of breath on your skin, your sweating bodies dampening the sheets and you desperately want to feel his warm seed inside you, filled to the brim with his creamy cum.

“Pleasepleaseplease i-in! In-s-ahh!” You come with a sharp cry, vision blurring, muscles clenching, your insides squeezing around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

It was enough, the tipping point for the dragon, his thrusts shallowing out until he ruts as deep as he can and shoots his load inside you with a guttural groan. Thick spurts pumping inside you before it pools out around his own cock, leaking from your body until there’s nothing left to give.

Everything is hot… so hot… the air heavy and musky with the scent of sex…

…

Zhongli slumps softly atop your body after what feels like ana eternity, his cock still comfortably nestled within your slick walls, cushioned by fluttering muscles. You lay beneath him, sweaty and shivering, breathless, chest raising and falling rapidly in small gasps as you struggle to catch your breath but oh, how you took his away…

Beautiful, truly… your half-lidded eyes glazed over, barely able to open admits your exhaustion, but still able to whimper soft little moans as he trails fluttering reverent kisses along your neck and collarbone. Soft, chaste, loving and tender touches.

“Ahhn… mmm…” He chuckles softly at the endearing sounds you make as he eases out of you, the subtle friction enough to sent fire to your nerves, followed by a strange emptiness that mellows down to buzzing contentment.

He lies to the side and pulls you close towards his chest, his tail finally letting your now sore leg rest, uncoiling from it to curl around you both, you settle there with a sigh, eyes sliding shut. “So good for me.” Zhongli gently brushes some hair away from your face and places a kiss at the crown of your head, resting his chin there. “Rest now, dear.”

“Mn.”

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

You smile as Zhongli places the two steaming teacups on the table before scooting over and welcoming him with the blanket surrounding you. He settles on the couch with you cuddling close and passing the book on your hands to him. Your fingers brush and he sets the book on his lap before taking your hands on his, cradling them close to his face before blowing a warm breath on them. You blush and let out a little airy laugh.

“What is this? Dragon breath to keep me warm?”

He hums against your skin, piercing golden eyes staring up at you. “No, just my love for you.” He kisses your knuckles and fingers.

“You…” You mumble, averting your gaze.

He chuckles and kisses your wrist then before leaning in close and kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, anywhere he can reach.

“Ngah, wait you affectionate big lizard!” You squirm and he laughs fully now.

“Just seeking my adorable fiancée’s warmth” He nuzzles onto your neck, kissing there too and making you yelp. “Gorgeous.”

“A-Am not!”

“So precious when you get all shy and flustered.” He gets your jaw this time when you move, so close to your lips.

“Stop! You menace…” You pout and this time you cup his face, staring for a moment at his handsome features, your thumb brushing close to one of the red markings under his eyes.

This man. This dragon. This god.

Oh, how you love him. He warms up your heart.

“Here, I’ll warm you up proper…” You whisper softly, pulling him close and tilting your head to slot your lips together.

Just as you warm up his.

#crys writes #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #fem!reader #I am so happy this is done eeeeeeeee <3 #alt title: warm him up with food with clothes with your body and with your love #dcfgscvgabcjah I love him sm

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coryosbaby · 4 months

Note

dreaming of a world where my boyfriend sejanus has to go out of town for something for a while so he lets me fuck his best friend coryo whenever i want as long as i call him and let him listen

Content warning . Threesome (?), use of sex toys, anal, praise & degradation, ‘daddy’ used like twice— 18++

“Do you promise you won’t be long?”

It’s the same exact thing you say everytime to him. Sejanus, your boyfriend, the forever busy owner of the Plinth fortune, is constantly away. Your feet shuffle nervously against the hardwood floor of your shared apartment, still a shy, timid thing despite knowing that Sej will always be gentle with you. He smiles, his big hands stuffing ties and suits into his already overfilled suitcase.

“I promise, sweet girl.”

Your lips form into a pout. He says that everytime, but he usually takes a week, if not longer. Noticing your distaste, Sejanus sets his things down and wraps his strong arms around your middle. You rest your body against his, burying your face into his shoulder and inhaling. He smells like laundry detergent and soap, so unlike the other privileged men of the capital. Instead of expensive cologne or parfume, Sejanus lets himself smell as is. You’ve always loved that about him— it gives you a sense of comfort to know that he hasn’t allowed the Capital to change him.

“Hey,” he soothes, his hands coming up to cup your face. He kisses you softly on the nose. “It’ll be okay, angel. I’ll be back in four days, tops.”

You don’t say anything, and Sejanus continues with a teasing lilt.

“Coryo can take care of you.”

The mention of the familiar blonde makes heat creep up your neck.

Coriolanus— Coryo — is a pretty boy with icy blue eyes. He’s been Sej’s friend for years, and one of the only people that the brunette trusts. Perhaps that’s why the three of you have come up with this special arrangement.

You sigh, letting Sejanus rub comforting circles into your back. He kisses you, gentle with his tongue teasingly nipping at your bottom lip.

“Make sure to call me tonight, okay?”

—

And that’s how it leads to you being spread out, laying in between Coriolanus Snow’s legs. Your hands are curling into his platinum blonde locks as he thrusts a dildo in and out of your tiny pussy— all while he’s letting out a teasing chuckle, a cellular device placed right up against your mouth so Sejanus can hear your delicious moans.

You wish you could see Sej, feel his buzzed hair and his soft, muscular body. You want so desperately to drool on the heavy cock in between his legs, to let him use your mouth and your cunt. But he has a legacy to look up to, a future family to feed, jewels and dresses to buy his girl. And although you miss like crazy — Coryo isn’t Sejanus, after all — he still makes a fantastic substitute. So why not fulfill your needs if your boyfriend is okay with it? Better yet, suggested it?

Coryo had pressed the speaker button on the call, and now you can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs as Sejanus coos to you on the other line.

“Oh, baby,” he says, when he hears your tiny whimpers as Coryo pushes the dildo in and out of you. “Are you being a good girl?”

You feel Coryo’s lips brush over your neck. He smiles against you, watching the way your cum coats the toy in creamy strings.

“Bein’ so good, Sej,” You hiccup, bucking your hips. “Miss you so much, wanna feel you...”

You can hear wet noises sounding from the other line, a small groan emitting from the microphone.

“I miss you too, sweet girl. Miss you so so much,” he says. “What’s he got you doin’ huh? Is he stretching all those little holes good?”

Looking down, you watch as the dildo penetrates you, along with the jeweled butt plug inside your tight little ass. The dildo is thick, extremely girthy and long. God, it’s long. It’s a wonder it hasn’t bruised your cervix yet with the way Coryo is rapidly pounding it into you.

“He’s..” you stutter, watching as Coryo’s arm grips you tighter and he bites down onto you, hard. “He’s f-fucking me. With the dildo, th-the one that looks like you, sej.. feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out on the other end, and you can imagine the way he looks now: spread out on a hotel room bed, tie undone and his pants haphazardly unbuttoned. His hand gripping his thick member, moving up and down, up and down…

You’re snapped out of your fantasies when you feel Coryo’s bulge pressing against your lower back. Even though you love Sejanus, your mouth aches for the other man to slip his cock past your lower lips and pound you deep into the mattress with no remorse, no sympathy. It’s one of the things you like about this arrangement— whereas Sejanus is soft, worships your body with every kiss and thrust (minus the punishments you get one or twice a month week), Coriolanus feels no romantic attraction. It’s primal, hot, and filthy. Two different halves, complete opposites. But both of them fulfill your desires in each of their own ways.

Coryo’s voice rings out, low and throaty, when Sejanus asks him if he had prepped you first.

“‘Course I did, Sej,” he groans, annoyed. “Stop whining, she’s fine.”

“Don’t care,” you hear Sejanus grumble. “If I find out you didn’t prep her, Coryo, you’re in deep shit.”

“I did,” Coryo argues, pausing his movements on your aching cunt. You grind against it, trying to get more of that delicious grazing against your special spot. “Tell him, baby. Didn’t I prep you?”

You nod, and for your reward Coryo resumes touching you. But this time, he moves his fingers down to play with the jewel sitting prettily between your cheeks.

“He did, Sej..” you start, trying not to whimper at the feeling of the plug being twisted around inside of you. “He used his fingers, his tongue, got me nice and wet…”

Sejanus shakily lets out a reply, and you let out a small yelp when Coryo teasingly pulls half of the anal plug out of your entrance.

“Yeah?” Sejanus says. “Were they as good as mine?”

“No!” You keen out, and you know it’s the truth and you know it’s exactly what Sejanus wants to hear. Not only is this a way to help you, but it’s also a way for Sejanus to show off and prove his own talents. He doesn’t mean to do it, per se, but— when it comes to you, Sej can get possessive and he can get egotistical about the way he fucks. And maybe, just a little bit, it’s because he strives for his best friend’s approval. His intelligent, highly influential best friend, the Coriolanus Snow.

But that doesn’t matter right now, not really. Because Coryo is slipping out the plastic cock sitting hot inside you and he’s turning you onto your side.

You comply easily, lifting up your leg like a bitch in heat. His tip probes at your hole, warm and dripping. He places the phone right next to your face, Sejanus’ voice purring hotly in your ear.

“Dick’s so hard listening t’you, honey,” he groans throatily. “Can’t wait to get home and pound all those pretty holes.”

A small mewl leaves you, and Coryo’s tip pops into you. It’s thick, not as thick as Sej’s, but it still makes your eyes roll back and your hips buck back into him.

“Want it so bad,” you breathe, and when Coryo begins to move inside you your hand reaches back to grasp his thigh. “Fuck, Coryo, please. Need more..”

“Beg for it, darling,” Coryo says, and you want to scream. “Come on, don’t be a brat. Do I need to spank you?”

Your gut twists at the thought of Coryo’s punishments.

“No,” you whimper out, stilling. “No, Cor, ‘m sorry.”

“Be nice,” you hear Sejanus warn from the other line. “She’s delicate.”

“No she isn’t,” Coryo quips, his cock moving roughly in your walls. “She likes it. She likes getting hurt. That’s something you need to come to terms with, Sej.”

You can hear an annoyed sigh sound from the other line. Sejanus ignores his comments.

“You fuckin’ her now?” He asks. Coryo’s cockhead slips out of your gaping hole and back in again at a rapid pace. The way Sejanus says it so carelessly, as if you aren’t even there, makes your eyes roll back.

“Yes,” Coryo replies, his nails digging crescent moons into your hips. “Shit, she’s tight. How is she still so fucking tight?”

“Mmm. She’s always like that. Like a rubber band.”

“It’s cute,” coryo grunts. “She still gets split open no matter how hard you stretch her out.”

You become pliant under Coryo’s thrusts, brain fucked out and all you can think is SejanusSejanusSejanus. The plop plop plop sound of Coryo’s balls slapping against you makes you let out the most unholy sounds.

“You with me, baby?” Sejanus says, his tone soft. The way he knows you so well makes your tummy flutter with butterflies.

“Mmmh..” you whine out, disagreeing. Because it’s true. He isn’t here, and you need him now more than ever.

“I know,” Sej moans out, his voice laced with arousal and something else entirely melancholy. “I know, honey. Gonna be home real soon, okay? Gonna fuck you just like you deserve.”

Coryo’s hands go up to push you onto your stomach. He grabs your wrists, pins them behind your back, lifts up your ass with his big hands. You mewl, tears streaming down your cheeks, letting him use your hole as Sejanus lets out throaty groans through the microphone. Coryo’s hand comes down harshly on your ass cheek when you squirm against his grip.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasps, his fingers gripping your cheeks harshly. “Or I’ll use the fucking paddle.”

Sejanus, too far gone with how aroused he is, lets out a loud, guttural moan through the phone.

“Fuck…”

Tears stream down your face, and you mutter out a soft, “yes sir”. Your cunt aches and drools around Coryo’s thick length, pussy lips spread tight around him. It’s comforting, but not comforting enough. You need Sejanus.

“Sej..” you whine out, and Coryo’s fingers move down to rub your clit harshly. You let out a desperate mewl.

“Right here, sweetheart,” Sejanus whimpers out. “Daddy’s right here.”

You can’t help but seize up at the title you gifted him a long while back that you only use on special occasions such as this. Coryo’s harsh rubs on your clit are making you tread closer and closer to your high.

“It’s so good,” you cry, fucking your hips back onto Coryo. Sejanus lets out a breathy laugh from the other line.

“Yeah? Is his cock filling that tight pussy up? Makin’ you feel good, baby?”

“Yes..” you whine out. “So good. Feels so good.”

Sejanus grunts.

“Gonna cum, baby,” he replies, and you can hear the wet sounds of his cock getting louder. “Gonna cum all over that sweet fucking pussy when I get back.”

“Please, daddy, need you to cum! Pleasepleaseplease…”

With a moan of your names spilling out of his lips, sweet, high, and orgasmic, Sejanus lets go. You hear him let out those angelic sounds signaling his release. Thinking of it— his big, girthy length dripping spend and his fucked out face— makes your orgasm fall over you in powerful waves. Coryo chuckles, watching as you fall apart underneath him, squeezing his cock like a vice.

“Mmm,” coryo hums, stilling. You let him pull out of you when you come down from your high, and he lets out a shaky breath when he sees your cunt. His fingers twist around the anal plug, gently pulling it out. Lube coats your rim, and when Coryo sees your gaping asshole he lets out an intense moan.

“Cmon,” he directs, pulling your limp body towards him. “Hold it open for me, baby, be a good girl.”

You obey, arms weakly moving around to spread your cheeks for him. His tip prods at you, teasing around you. When he sinks in, you let out a squeal.

“I know,” he coos, almost mockingly. “I know, pretty girl, look at that. Tight little ass is sucking me in.”

“So much..” you whimper, your face hot.

“I know, sweetheart. Just a little bit more.”

Coryo moves in and out of your ass at a rough, harsh pace. He would love to cum in your pussy— really, he would. But Sejanus only allows him to cum inside your ass— says that your cunt is only for him.

Not that Coryo is complaining, of course.

Sweat drips down his temple as he fucks into you like a madman. Your fingers grip the sheets, your little legs shaking. Sejanus coos out little praises to keep you grounded, and for a second you can pretend he’s here. You clench around Coryo at a particularly dirty sentence, and he grunts, his hips beginning to stutter.

“Gonna fill up this tight ass. That what you want? You like being a slut for your boyfriend’s best friend, huh?”

You let out a mewl, keening against Coryo when his cock spurts warm, wet ropes inside you. He presses flush against you, lets you milk him for everything he has, and when he slows he rests against your back.

“Done?” Sej asks from the other line. Coryo replies, a gruff “yeah” leaving his lips. When he pulls out of you, you curl up on your side. You’re exhausted.

You watch as Coryo slips on his pants and his belt, then his shirt. He brushes back his blonde curls as he looks at himself in your mirror. And sweetly, he places a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, baby.” He murmurs to you. “Do you want me to run you a bath before I go?”

Coryo is quite gentle with you. Not only because Sejanus would kill him if not, but also because he genuinely cares for your well being. You shake your head, limbs feeling like desert sand. You want to talk to Sej, and then you want to sleep.

“Okay,” Coryo replies. “I’ll see you… in two days, maybe? Is that okay?”

You show off a small smile.

“I’d love that.”

When Coryo leaves, the room smells of sex and perfume. You let Sejanus know Coryo’s gone, then you both talk about his trip— what he’s seen, who he’s doing business with, the cute pair of silky pajamas he got you. And that night, when you sleep, it’s less lonely.

@etfrin @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry

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bi-writes · 4 months

Text

huhhhhh more bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because i want them to touch

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 4/?)

cw: nsfw (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kissing over the mask, simon "my girl cums first" riley, fem!receiving touching, praise kink, size kink, simon's thicc thighs need a warning, simon "the mask doesn't come off" riley

simon had a bad habit.

a nose-scrunching habit, a oddly pretty habit, a clouding habit.

you shut the door behind you, locking it. you dropped your keys by the door, slipping your sneakers off and hanging your jacket up. you had the day shift today, so simon let you walk home on your own. but he didn't know when you were coming home, and you suspect that's why he was outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his index and middle finger as he leaned against the wall.

you come up to the sliding door, narrowing your eyes before knocking on the glass. simon didn't move immediately, but you saw him turn his face away, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his combat boot. when he turned to look at you, his mask was on, and there was a little apprehension in those dark eyes.

you gripped the handle of the door, sliding it open. he moved to stand in front of you, taking up the entirety of the doorway, broad shoulders taking up the width of the space.

"luv--"

"shut the fuck up, simon," you snapped. you reached over and gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him inside. he had to maneuver his shoulders to slip inside, and you brought him right up against you so you could glare right up at him. "you know, it's one thing to come back from your boys' nights smelling like it, but in our home?! simon! how many times do i have to tell you that those things will kill you?!"

he sighed, shaking his head a little.

"trust me, luv," he murmured. "this isn't what'll kill me."

"you shut up," you reached up and gripped his masked chin, forcing his eyes on yours. your eyes were a little watery, and your bottom lip trembled. "don't say things like that. don't you dare."

the air was a little stiff. simon was a bit ashamed, averting his gaze. you leaned up and put both hands on his cheeks, putting his eyes on yours again.

"look at me, simon," you said lowly. "i...i cant tell you what to do. i'm not your mother. but i don't like it. its not good for you. i..." you looked down. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to...i'm not trying to control you, i just--"

"its alright, luv," he quieted you. "it's alright, i know."

you sighed, dropping your hands to rest on his chest. your splayed your palms there, feeling the warmth of him. you held back a smile when you noticed him puffing out his chest a bit, flexing the muscles under your palms as you pressed against solid flesh.

"big, bad lieutenant riley..." you hummed lowly. "nothing can kill you, is that it?"

simon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he grunted.

"dunno what'll kill me, luv, but it won't be a bloody smoke."

you smiled wide finally, your eyes sparkling as you looked towards the kitchen.

"what do you want for dinner, simon? did you go shopping like i asked?"

"'f course i did," he said quickly, his tone nearly offended for even a hint that he you had doubted that he would do ask you asked. you let go of him, making your way to the kitchen. simon let his eyes wander. you were still wearing your uniform from the diner, pretty white and red stripes in the most adorable dress he'd ever seen. he'd curse the man who'd made you wear it the day he saw it the first time; his gaze that couldn't help but follow the valley of your breasts, the way the skirt fell over the curve of your ass--he felt like a teenager fawning over something so trivial about you, so physical and seemingly superficial, but you looked fantastic in it. his beautiful girl, the one he had known since she was only 17, how she grew and blossomed and before he knew, there was no other woman who could take up as much space in his mind as you.

simon had been to many dark places. the dark edges of torture, the narrow walls of being cornered by an enemy, the hot places where hell was just right over the cliff--he was a machine of order and sheer will, he had killed the parts of himself that never quite suited him for war, but somehow, this place with you stayed the same. it was the one constant he knew, the one constant that just never, ever changed, and for that, he was grateful.

you don't think simon riley believes in god. but he believes in you.

simon had been around the world. he had seen the worst of humanity, ripped his own right out of his chest, but none of it mattered as he sat down on the couch he had picked out with you. he remembered when you sent him the pictures of it, your voice on the other line of the phone as you told him how much you liked the pieces. he had been on deployment, and while he could care fuck all about what color the couch in your shared living room was, it was important to you so it was important to him.

"simon?"

your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"simon, could you open that bottle of wine? i need it for the stew."

domestic. fuck, this was too domestic, it was simple, it was calm. simon never flinched, not even when a bullet would hit the wall by his head, but fuck, the sight of you stirring vegetables in a pot in the kitchen of your shared apartment was making his head spin.

simon riley never missed his target. he set his sights on what he wanted, and with the ease and practice of a lieutenant, he crossed another name off his list.

and one could say that his pretty, little roommate, the woman who had been there before the scars and loved him even after them, was another target. your figure was in his sight, but fuck, his hand was shaking.

when the pot was simmering, you poured yourself a glass of wine and came towards him on the couch. simon was sitting, legs spread a little wide, his hands on his thighs as his eyes were fixed on the low hum of the television. you took a seat beside him after setting aside your glass, putting your feet up underneath you and leaning up against his arm.

"simon? everything alright?"

he turned to face you. a low shadow hung over his face, the hood of his jacket making his face appear even darker despite the mask he wore. you reached over under the hood and brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead, tracing a small scar against his hairline. you smiled at him, running your knuckles down his temple. in the low light, you could barely see even his eyes, but simon spoke so much with just his eyes. they were beautiful. they were alive, had so much emotion, and you wondered always if maybe simon had learned to speak with them knowing it was the only part of him truly visible.

you lowered your gaze as he pressed his forehead to yours. his skin was warm, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. you swallowed, noticing how much smaller your hand looked next to his. he wore gloves, like always, but it didn't hide the size of him.

lieutenant simon riley. your simon. built like a fucking bear, a mind of impenetrable steel, eyes that had seen the nine circles of hell and wouldn't spill any of their secrets, simon riley who died and a ghost who brought him back and the woman that he dreamed about when they had taken everything from him except his goddamn memories--

he was kissing you. not in the way other men had kissed you, but in the way that simon riley would kiss you. the front of his mask met your lips, a touch of fabric that was warm and soft and melted your insides with a thousand unspoken words. he whispered your name against your lips, a quiet thing that felt like prayer. and maybe it was a sort of prayer, one that only he could make real, one that only he could make sound like faith and all the ugly, sorry truths that it brought with it.

but there was nothing ugly about this kind of prayer. it held no malice. it was pretty and soft and the only kind of word that ever brought him memories and not nightmares.

you were the one to press your lips to his. even through the fabric, it was like kissing someone for the first time. but not just anyone, simon. simon--simon who kissed your tears when you got stood up at a school dance. simon who promised into your hair that he would come back when you discovered the letters about his deployment overseas. simon who beat the manager at the first bar you ever worked at for following you home one night after your shift. simon who died when his family did and then came back, but only within the walls of your shared apartment and nowhere else.

simon, simon, simon--

his hand was under your dress. one gloved palm slipped up the back of your skirt, caressing one side of your ass as he guided you into his lap.

"simon--"

you choked on his name when you felt bare fingers slide over the edge of your panties. you reached up and cupped both sides of his face, whining as he moved his fingers under the fabric. your cunt was wet and glossy, and he pressed his face into the palm of your hand when he realized just how much time he had wasted being anything other than yours. and he had always been yours, but fuck, why hadn't he ever told you?

"youre so pretty, luv..." he smoothed his other hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging just enough to make you moan. "so pretty...so bloody wet...have you always been like this?"

you nod, unable to speak. his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, a soft wet sound that makes you cry. you want him to put those fingers inside of you, to make you ride his hand until you see nothing but white, but you just cant seem to form any words.

"oh, luv...youre a bloody mess..." he chuckled a bit. "fuckin' hell...let me see you--"

he picked up the skirt of your dress, his dark eyes flickering down. he cursed his breath, fisting the lace of your panties and ripping them right off. you whimpered as he tossed them onto the floor.

"christ, luv, can't believe i ever let this cunt be with another man. look at ya. it's fuckin' christmas mornin', aye?"

"you hate christmas--"

"dunno. could be more inclined if i got to have you in the mornin'."

"fuck you--"

"not yet, sweetheart."

simon never really thought you were much of a singer. but the crying and the begging and the moaning was music--and he was learning how to play you just right.

fingers teasing your cunt, he can feel the way your body aches for something more--something big and eager and warm, something that needs you badly, but fuck--you're so pretty with his name in your mouth and your cum on his fingers.

mine, mine, mine--

he grunted when you gripped his wrist, steadying his fingers enough so you could sink down on them. he groaned lowly, watching you tilt your head back and ride his fingers. sinking those gorgeous hips down again and again, putting his hand to use in a way that felt wrong up until now. fuck holding a sniper rifle and putting bad men to sleep--his hand was made to please you, that much was clear to him now.

you were so tight. grinding slow against him, dripping down his fingers, crying out when his thumb moved a gentle circle over your clit and his fingers slipped up enough to graze a pretty spot inside of you.

"nnngghhh--simon--"

"that's it, luv...'s it..."

you laid your forehead against his, nodding along to his words but your thoughts were only on the feeling of him. one finger, a second finger, a third--fucking up into you and feeling the squeezing of your soft walls and touching you in every way that made you dizzy and warm and cock-drunk--

"fuck, fuck, fuck--!"

you sobbed against his covered mouth as you came over his hand, a cloud of euphoria and pleasure and the soft thoughts of him that seemed to string together in some wonderful, hazy picture of him. simon was all hard lines, rough edges, the cut of broken glass or the wrong end of a gun, but it never mattered to you.

simon was the beginning and the end, of what, you weren't sure, but he was the beginning of something and definitely the end of it.

his eyes were on yours, dark, beautiful eyes that never lost their gentleness even when they should've been permanently black with his rage. simon was not angry. simon was not bent on revenge or eager to kill or smiling the face of death.

no, simon was in love. simon was so fucking in love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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theharddeck · 4 months

Text

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

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

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

word count: 10.4k

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

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

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

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

But.

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

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

Quickie During the Rodeo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did guys in real life never moan?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you.

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

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

You wanted to be his good girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hours in the room flew by.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

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

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it).

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

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

How had you never noticed before??

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

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

A knock on your door startled you.

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

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

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

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

Could’ve been worse, you mused.

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

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

He looked the same.

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

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills.

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

And now you were thinking about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to say it.

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

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

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

He didn’t, not really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you managed again.

Bob looked at you.

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

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

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

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

It was still Bob.

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

Of course he did.

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

Objectively, Bob was the best.

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

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

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

He pushed himself off the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kissed him.

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

He was so soft.

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

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

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

“Can I show you?” you asked.

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

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

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

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous.

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

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

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

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were you whimpering?

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

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

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was better with him.

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

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

He sounded so good.

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

You felt like you were floating.

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

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

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

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

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t done, either.

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

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

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

This sweet man.

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

You loved the feeling of his skin.

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

He found the condom.

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

Holy. Shit.

He looked like a work of art.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You broke off when he pushed into you.

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

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

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

Fuck, he felt so good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t do anything.

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

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

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

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

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

The sounds in the room were dizzying.

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

He knew, somehow.

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

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

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

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

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

You moaned as his words coaxed you back.

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop.

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant.

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him.

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips.

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you.

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you.

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips.

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher.

And then.

And then he got close.

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you.

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it.

When you came back, you were on your side.

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction.

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

#bob fucks #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd #misskielwrites #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

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mysicklove · 1 year

Note

i can imagine izuku still being a virgin and getting so pussydrunk because it's his first time

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘

Pairings: Virgin! Sub! Top! Pro-Hero! Izuku x Experienced! Dom! Bottom! AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy overstimulation, vaginal penetration, biting, hickeys, creampie, crying, begging, nicknames,, multiple rounds

A/N: Guys Im going to be honest. This is lowkey mostly plot heavy and not too much smut. Im sorry anon I should have made it short and smutty, but I just had this idea and one thing lead to another... I will make short smut stuff!!!!!

Izuku was desperate to have sex. He may be doing fantastic career-wise, but his life in the sheets was dry. So unbelievably dry. He was so pent up, so frustrated, he needed it so badly. Every night he has to get himself off, and by god, he wanted more.

He met you a couple of weeks ago, and you have clouded his mind ever since. He doesn't even know your name. All he knows is you were wearing a red dress, and you kissed him so hard he couldn't breathe. Pressed your knee on his clothed cock, and just like nothing happened, disappeared.

He was drunk. The both of you were. He remembers the smell of alcohol on your breath, how flushed you look. He was probably no better, the fact that this happened at all means he had to be wasted. He barely has the confidence to talk to girls.

It happened at some sort of party that only celebrities or the rich attend, but with all the Google searches in the world, he couldn't find you. His search history was embarrassing.

But even so, he fantasized about you. The purr of your voice, the soft hands that ran over his muscular body, the way you said, “Such a pretty boy in front of me, you must have all the ladies in the palm of your hand, hmm?” while pressing your lips, coating with red lipstick, onto his neck.

He couldn't get you out of his head. He attended every single party, but alas he could never find you. He would end up at home, alone, touching himself.

Until he found you again, two months later. At another party.

He spills the champagne in his hands, when he sees you, eyes wide, before stumbling up and over to you. You are at a table by yourself, sipping on some sort of cocktail. You were in a dark blue tight dress today, and instead of that red lipstick that stained his neck, you were wearing clear lip gloss.

He awkwardly, and hesitantly taps your shoulder, and flushes when you turn around. The thoughts of that night come flooding back to him, and he has to look away so he doesn't get a hard-on.

“Oh! Deku, I didn't know you were here.” You say with a bright smile and he blinks at you. He just cannot stop thinking about the fact that this is the face he gets off to daily. The way you look now is so different than last time. You look so innocent, grinning so widely, it's nothing like the flushed, domineering persona you had that night.

Either way, it's still you and he gulps. “Hey! Yeah…I was invited.”

You smile into your glass cup. “I would hope so.”

He blushes. Such a stupid thing to say. Of course, he was invited and you were too, what was he even talking about? “So..What's your name?”

You hold out a hand and grin. “Y/N.”

He takes it and gently shakes it, trying to hold back his nervous shaking. “It's nice to me you, Im–”

“Deku?” You prompt with a tilt of your head.

He falters, “Uh yeah! But I was going to say, Izuku” He trails off and you laugh.

“Sorry. Got ahead of myself! It's nice to meet you Izuku.” And suddenly your facial features flip. That smirk is back. He loves it. “Your tie is all messed up, mind if I fix it?” He blushes but nods. You grin and grab onto the green tie, and he goes needle straight. “Yknow. You look awfully familiar, Izuku.” You say in a lone tone, that makes the blood flow straight to his cock.

He splutters, “You, you think so?” You drop the tie and hum. Your mouth opens, beginning another probably teasing remark when a call of your name cuts you off. A female voice, he takes specific note of.

You turn to him and smile. “Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around, pretty boy.”

He stands there staring at the space you just preoccupied with a blank face. And then it hits him. Pretty boy. That’s what you called him that night. You remember. You had to. He turns around quickly and says, “Wait!” but you are already gone. Hidden by the crowd of dancing and drinking rich idiots.

He eyes the cocktail you left, sighs, and finishes it off. He has gotta get some liquid courage in him if he wanted to be bold enough to deal with you.

He searched the party all night, but alas he couldn't find you. He almost began to give up hope, when suddenly he saw you. Alone, once again, and on the balcony. He sets his drink down and uses the silver reflection of his plate as a mirror to quickly brush through his hair. He sighs and then as calmly as he could so nobody would say anything, walks to the balcony.

When you hear the footsteps, you turn around, and when you see who exactly it is, you grin. He laughs nervously. “Woah, funny seeing you here, Y/N.”

You raise your eyebrow and turn to lean your back on the balcony ledge. “Oh don't give me that, I saw you looking for me all night like a lost puppy.” You throw your head back in a laugh and his ever-returning blush is back.

“Y-You knew? But, why didn't you…” He trails off when you step closer to him. Now you were less than a foot away, grinning up at him, he could almost feel your breasts press against him. He gulps and looks away, hoping to fight his arousal. He could smell the traces of alcohol.

You grab his face to make him look at you, and you lean forward like you are going to kiss him, and then pause, centimeters away. “Izuku, what do you want from me?”

“Everything.” He whispers eyes half-lidded as he stares at your lips.

You smile. “Good answer.” And then press his lips to his. He groans, low and softly, but leans into the kiss. He grabs your waist and presses you against him, and you pull away when you feel his hard cock. “Where should we go?” You prompt, basically inviting him to ask you to his place.

But, much to your dismay, he doesn't get it. “Bathroom,” He says, thinking back to that one night, and then leans forward for another kiss.

You pull away, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. His eyes widen when he feels your warmth disappear. “Bathroom, really? You–You are just like all the others. I thought after the whole romantic balcony scene you would at least have the decency to ask me to your place.” You turn around to head back inside.

He stumbles forward, and grabs your wrist, eyes pleading. “Wait! I'm sorry! I'm nervous, please come over! I've never done this before, I promise I'm not like the others,” He basically begs and this time your eyes widen.

“Oh my. Don't tell me, the number one pro hero, is a virgin?” He looks away and goes silent. You throw your head back in laugh at the confirmation, and he pouts. Then, you grab onto the green tie and pull him forward, he stumbles in front of you, the blush returning. “I'm going to have so much fun with you, pretty boy.”

Tonight was the best night ever, Izuku decides when his head is thrown back, mouth open, as you sink onto his cock. How could he be missing this all of his years? It was so much better than the fantasy. So much better.

“Oh god,” He groans, hands coming to your hips instinctually. You begin to steady your movements, sitting on your knees in his lap.

“How does it feel? After all this time, you finally lost your virginity,” You say with a grin, hand running down to trace his chest. He nods, a drunken smile pulling at his face.

He gazes down at your sexes and moans. “Feels good. Warm, mhmm so warm.” His voice cracks, “and tight. So much b-better than my hand.”

You laugh, but it comes out in broken pants, so you lean forward to kiss him. He pulls away quickly, eyes wide and panicked. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to cum. No, no, it's too earlier. I can't” He shakes his head and clutches at the sheets beneath him, trying desperately to hold it back, as you continue to ride him.

You shake your head with an adoring gaze. “’s alright. We will just have to go again. And again and again, until you are all fucked out, hmm?”

He stares at you with hearts in his eyes, nodding rapidly. “Yes. Yes, please, please. Fuck. Cumming. I’m cuming!” And just like he said, he released his load in you and rolls his eyes back. Small gasps and a silent moan tumble down from his lips, and his hand shakes as he grips onto your hips.

You coax him through it with a smile, running your fingers through his unruly hair. When he comes down from his high he stares at you with a lazy grin, and the next thing you know you are being flipped over.

Your eyes widen as you feel Izuku start to move in and out again. It was surprising, he had just come down from his orgasm. Wasn't he being overstimulated? His pathetic whine answered your question. “Iz-Izuku, do you want to take a break?” You sigh when he begins to pick up the ruthless pace again.

He leans his head into your neck and shakes his head rapidly. His voice comes out in a pitchy whine, “But you said!” He grips the pillow next to your head and whimpers into your neck, feeling the pain of his spent cock being overworked.

“We can go again after you recover.” You gasp and clutch onto his back, sending nail marks down it. He groans. “So it won't hurt you.”

He shakes his head again and you can feel the drip of the tears falling onto your neck. He was trembling. “No. Please don't make me stop. ‘m good. So good. Feels so so good.”

You grin, maybe a little sadistically as you watch him begin to crumble. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He moans, high pitched, and loud. He presses his lips to your neck, sucking and marking any area he can lay his mouth on. You crane your neck to allow his urges. “I love it. I love it.” He half murmurs half whines in between kisses.

“Hmm?” You respond, not trusting yourself to speak while he begins to pick up the pace. One hand grips onto his hair and the other continues to scratch his back.

“Your pussy. S-So warm and tight. ’s like it was made for me.” He gasps and you laugh, to the best of your ability.

You pull him back by the mop on his head and he whines, eyes shut, as his head tilts backward. “What happened to my bashful virgin? You're so lewd now.” His hips pick up the pace.

He tries to the best of his ability to shake his head but ultimately fails under your grip. “But I love it! I do!” You laugh at the ridiculous response and let go of his hair. He collapses back and immediately buries his face into your neck again. “Im going to cum again. Can I cum? Please, please.”

“So quick. Still have a virgin body. Alright. For me, yeah?”

He nods a little embarrassed, and he feels his muscles begin to contract. He bites down on your shoulder and you hiss, but he ignores it, riding his second orgasm through. It's stronger and harder than the first and he screams into your skin, tears falling copiously down his round, flushed cheeks.

He peers down and widens his eyes when he sees his cum begin to leak out of your pussy. He gulps, feeling himself get hard once again, and flips you over immediately. “More. More. Please, just one more. One more time.” He lays completely on top of you and interjoins his fingers with yours.

He uses his arm to lift your hips up so that it was easier to fuck. It makes you raise your eyebrows. He must have watched a lot of porn to know that trick.

“What if I say no?” You tease and he releases an unsteady whine. His eyes are blurry from the tears.

“Please don't say no. Please, I love it. I love it so much. Please, Y/N!” He begs, dropping his head on the pillow next to your face.

“So needy.”

“P-Please.” He whimpers, in a voice so low you could barely hear and you grin.

“Alright. Go ahead.” You could barely finish your statement when all of a sudden he is pounding into you again, mumbling stuff like “Thank you. Thank you.” and “Good. So good.”

You know it hurts him. It has too, overstimulation is no joke. But the way he continues, eyes watery and hips frantic shows just how desperate he is. How obsessed he is with it. The pain didn't even matter to him, the thought of driving his cock into you spurred him on.

He wanted more. You opened his eyes, and once uncovering the truth, he could never get enough of it.

Fucking Izuku may not have been a good idea. In an instant, you turned this poor, cute virgin, into a pussy-starved man. But alas, he seems to only seek it from one particular person, so it may not be all that bad.

He came five times that night and you twice. He asked to go again, but you had to stop him when you took a peak at his fuming red cock, tear-stained cheeks, and trembling body. He doesn't seem to know when to stop.

You left early that morning, legs wobbly and body completely spent. He slept in, his body seeming to be more exhausted than yours.

When he woke up, his body sticky from sweat, his hair messy and body was sore, the first thing he took notice was the sticky note stuck onto his forehead.

Messy, cursive handwriting spelled out, I’ll be waiting for my lost puppy to come crawling back to me again. Xoxo, Y/N

He fell back onto the pillow with a groan. Not even a phone number. You were so cruel.

So, he does what any good puppy does. He attends every party for the next three weeks until he finds you again.

#mha smut #dom! reader #smut #x reader #sub midoriya #sub!character #sub izuku #sub deku #sub izuku x reader #izuku midoryia smut #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku mydoria #izuku smut #deku smut #sub! deku #sub! mha #izuku midoriya fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction

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mrsbarnesblog · 5 months

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wakanda

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18 ‼️ smut, sex in Bucky's hut, he has one arm, woman on top, unprotected sex, dirty talk, insecurity.

Author's note: posting my old fic, while I'm working on that tattoo artist x bookshop owner one👀 If any of you have smut ideas (with some kinks maybe), feel free to write your requests

You finally got permission to visit Bucky in Wakanda again since he was permanently living there to get rid of the Winter Soldier program and learn how to live a normal life again. Unfortunately, Princess Shuri and Ayo insisted that too much contact with other people might distract Bucky, so you weren’t allowed to see him.

The last time you were there with Steve and, even if you loved him to death, you couldn't deny the disappointment that you barely spent any time with Bucky alone. He was your best friend since you and Steve saved him in Bucharest, and you had the biggest crush on him for about the same amount of time.

At first, you had to visit Shuri and TChalla to talk through some moments, and that whole time you were bubbling with nerves and anticipation to finally see Bucky.

You jumped right into his arms as soon as you walked down the hill and saw him standing near the lake. He hugged you back, burying his face in your neck, and it was truly the moment that you never wanted to end. Bucky smelled like fresh air mixed with some kind of seasoning, not to mention that he looked fantastic. In traditional Wakandian clothes that were covering his missing arm too, a low bun on the back of his head with a few springs of hair around his face, and smooth and tanned skin from the work under the sun.

You two rushed to his hut with the food you had bought from a local cafe owned by a kind old man. And somewhere after that, when you were eating on the floor covered with many blankets and colorful pillows and talking about your lives, everything went downhill.

Bucky talked about his goats and the way he felt better living in Wakanda, while you unconsciously moved closer to him, needing to fill the void that formed while you couldn’t see him. Bucky just stopped in the middle of the sentence, as if he realized that you were too close, looking at him with your big, pretty eyes.

Food was forgotten. Somehow, you ended up sitting on Bucky’s lap while you were connected in the most passionate and hot kiss you had ever had. Your hands were tightly holding his face, and his right one had a strong grip on your waist to keep you close.

“Bucky…” You moaned in his mouth; your hips were grinding into his hardness, which was so obvious through the clothes. You both were so lost in the moment, sharing a desperate kiss. Bucky couldn’t get enough of your taste; he bit your lip, then licked it with his tongue to calm down the delicate skin.

It felt so natural, like it was meant to happen a long time ago, and now you could not keep all of your emotions inside.

Bucky couldn't help but groan under his breath when your hand slipped into his hair, completely destroying his low bun. Your nails on his scalp felt majestic, and his brain became fuzzy with your gentle yet confident touches. Bucky moved his hand from your waist to your thigh, squeezing the soft and warm skin a little bit lower than your shorts.

When he pulled away, you tried to follow his mouth, almost addicted to the taste and feeling of his lips on yours.

“Fuck, doll, that’s not how I imagined it.” His face became sad and almost apologetic, and you saw that the corners of his red lips moved downward in disappointment. “Not here, not with only one arm... Fuck, I can’t even touch you the way I want to.” His hand tightened on your hip, and you gave him a sad smile. Not that those things mattered to you, but your heart still hurt because Bucky felt that way.

“I don’t care about it. I just want you, Bucky, if you want me too, of course.” Your voice was soft and gentle, soothing his nerves a little bit.

“You can’t imagine how much I want it, but I can’t do much with one hand; fuck, it’s so bad, I’m so sorry...” Bucky’s eyes closed and his head fell lower, but you could still see a pink blush on his cheeks.

"I want it, Bucky; I want you, and your hand is not a problem, okay?" He deeply inhaled when your hands took his face and your lips were back on his. The kiss wasn’t so harsh and desperate; it was more deep and passionate, like you both tried to express your unsaid feelings. “Why don’t you just lay back on the pillows, and I’ll do everything?” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, and put your right hand on his chest, pushing Bucky back on the pile of pillows behind him so he was sitting in a reclined position.

You saw the hesitation in his eyes, and you waited a few seconds, gently rubbing your fingers over his beard, so he could process your idea.

“Okay.”

You got closer, sitting more comfortably on top of him. One of your hands pressed onto the pillows near Bucky’s body, and the other one landed on his firm chest, playing with the red clothes that he was wearing. Bucky lifted his hand, gently grabbing your face and kissing you again. His soft lips and slow movements of his tongue inside your mouth made you moan.

“Can I take it off?” You mumbled, slightly pulling down the red material. More of his soft, tanned skin was shown, and you tried to hold yourself together and not overstep the line. Bucky’s pupils were dilated, almost completely hiding your favorite blues. He was closely watching your moving lips, as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Mhm, but— please, can we leave this on?” He pointed to his shoulder, covered in blue material.

“If you feel more comfortable that way, then we can. But we don’t have to, if you suggest it only because of me.” You started to untangle his clothes, still watching his face to notice any signs of discomfort.

“Just leave it on, okay?”

“Okay.” As you removed the clothes from his chest, leaving the cover on his left shoulder, allowing you to see his perfectly sculpted body, your lips left soft kisses on Bucky’s cheek, going down to his neck and to his abs. You stopped there, feeling how the body underneath you tensed, and his hand gripped the duvet so hard that his knuckles became white. “Bucky?”

“‘M okay, it’s just been so long for me. Didn’t get used to feeling that way. And I want you so bad, doll, I can’t even explain it.” He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. You felt that his cock was painfully hard underneath you, and just thinking about touching it made you ten times wetter.

“You can have me, Bucky. Do you want me to take the rest of our clothes?” You moved your hips a little bit, getting an almost desperate whine from Bucky. He looked stunning with his slightly disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, red lips, and lustful and needy eyes. And he was completely yours, fuck.

“Yes, please.”

You placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up. Bucky’s eyes were following your every move as you took off your shorts and t-shirt, staying in the cooling air only in your simple black underwear. But Bucky was looking at you like you were the most delicious and precious thing in the world, like he wanted to make love to you and completely destroy your body at the same time.

“Doll– fuck, everything else too, please.” He licked his lips, unconsciously moving his hips from the lack of attention. Your eyes slipped to his crotch, seeing how his cock was very visible through layers of clothes.

You just smiled at his desperation but still reached to the back to unclip your bra and then slide your panties down your legs. You didn’t waste any more time, going back to Bucky and finally completely taking off his clothes.

“Holy fuck…” Your mouth went completely dry when you pulled down his black boxers. You never found this part of a man’s body that attractive, but it was the prettiest dick you had ever seen. Thick and long, with a vein going around it and a slight curve towards his press. The shiny drop of pre-cum on the head made you instantly want to lick it, but the mumble of your name and calloused hand on the lower part of your back brought your attention back to Bucky.

“You’re going to kill me, doll. C’mere, please, I want– need to touch you. Need to kiss you.” Before you could even say something or move, his hand slipped under your ass and, without much effort, lifted you on top of him. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I want to worship you and make you feel good; I’m so sorry that I can’t.”

“Bucky,” you said, laying down on his chest. “I promise that when you get your new arm, I’ll let you fuck me however and wherever you want to, okay? But for now, I want to take care of you.” The feeling of your hard nipples pressing against his firm chest sent shivers down your spine, and the hand on your back made you want to grind on Bucky like a bitch in heat. “Please, touch me, baby.”

“You shouldn’t say shit like this to me, doll. I won’t let you go until you can’t even fucking think straight. Shit– how are you so soft…” Bucky's hand was now exploring your body, gripping your ass, tracing your stomach, and reaching for your sensitive nipples. He never wanted to have both arms as much as he did at that moment—to touch every curve of your body and find everything that makes you feel good.

“Bucky!” Your hands pressed against his chest, and your head fell back with a moan when he pinched your nipple in between his fingers. He chuckled softly before sliding his hand down, right to your dripping core.

“Doll, look at you.” His eyes were glued to the place where his fingers traced your folds. “Is this all for me?”

“Y-yes, Bucky, please…” You almost cried at the feeling that he gave you. Even if it was a long time for him, Bucky definitely didn’t forget how to please a woman. Your legs desperately wanted to close from the stimulation on the clit, but since you were spread on top of him, you couldn’t do anything but whine and dig your nails into the hot skin under your hands. “Don’t tease me, just—fuck!”

“Taking my fingers so good, doll.” You knew that he was smiling because of your reaction as two thick digits slid inside of you, filling you so well but not enough at the same time. “You’re already ready for my cock, huh? Wanna feel how this pretty pussy stretches around me. C'mon, baby, help me.” Bucky moved his hips upward, and you felt how his dick was pressing on your ass.

“You have a dirty mouth, Barnes.” You laughed before reaching behind you, grabbing his cock, and lifting your body at the same time. You put the tip at your entrance, running his length through your folds and letting the head bump your clit as he collected your wetness, until you both couldn’t handle the teasing anymore. Bucky placed his hand on your ass, pressing on top and allowing you to slowly take him inside.

It was too much. The burn of him stretching you was slightly painful, but it made you feel so full, as if the two pieces of puzzles finally added up. You both moaned, your head fell back, and you tried to go slowly and adjust to his size.

Bucky’s hand tightened on your hip, probably leaving red marks. He breathed deeply to control his fast-beating heart. You felt so fucking good, all wet and tight for him, that it was hard not to move his hips into you. But it was obvious that you needed some time based on your tensed body and slightly opened mouth.

“Bucky…” Your eyes were flattering, and you were not able to completely focus on his face. You thought that you could just fuck him and take control, but you didn’t expect to be this cock drunk before either of you even made a move.

“So pretty lookin’ like this baby.”

“‘M so full…” You moaned, gripping Bucky’s hand and interlacing your fingers.

You found a comfortable position, holding yourself with one hand on Bucky’s chest. The first movement of your hips was shocking, sending goosebumps all over your body. You both loudly moaned when you moved up, until he almost slipped out of you, and then down, burying his cock deeply inside.

Bucky’s lower half slightly moved up when his non-existent left arm wanted to grab your hips, and you must’ve noticed the disappointment and anger written on his face because you leaned a little bit lower and freed your hand from his grip, moving it to his face.

“That’s okay, Buck, just relax, please? Don’t worry.” You cooed in the softest voice. Your hips started to slowly move at a stable pace.

“You’re so perfect, baby.” He mumbled, and you felt that his body started to thrust into yours, so his cock perfectly touched your g-spot.

It became more intense with every minute. The little hut was filled with the smell of sex and the sound of your moans, as well as skin slapping against skin. You were too desperate for each other, trying to reach your climaxes but not wanting this moment to end.

Bucky tried to touch you as much as possible; he wanted to make you feel good, give you satisfaction, and fulfill his own needs in your presence. He moved his hand from your ass to your stomach and boobs, then to your face, drawing you in for another hot and passionate kiss. He was all over you, hungry to get more and to remember every centimeter of your perfect body.

You two moved in perfect rhythm, meeting each other's movements.

“Please, Bucky– it’s so good, fu-uck, I’m gonna cum.” You cried out loud, feeling that your body was starting to go numb from your approaching orgasm.

“Such a good pussy, takin’ me so well. ‘M close too, baby; ride my cock, c’mon. Get what you need.” He slapped your ass, encouraging you to move faster. “So pretty wrapped around me. Can I cum inside you, hm? Will you let me feel you up?”

Your head quickly nodded while you didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of you. Bucky bit his lip, trying to control himself and get you to the finish first, but you looked so fucking good on top of him, with your boobs jumping up and down, that he knew he couldn’t hold himself any longer. So he brought his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit.

That was the breaking point for you. You completely lost control over your body, barely being able to stay still when the waves of pleasure were breaking through you.

“Good girl. You can almost feel me in your stomach, yeah?” Bucky was feeling every thrust of his dick with the palm of his hand, and it felt fucking insane. “Fu-u-uck, you’re squeezing the shit out of me; ‘m not gonna last longer.” He moaned, losing his rhythm too, while you fell down on his chest, too overwhelmed and overstimulated.

You felt the last movement of his hips until he froze, moaning into your ear, and emptied himself deeply inside of your spasming pussy. You unconsciously continued to squeeze around his cock, getting every single drop, as if your body was greedy to get more of his load.

“I don’t feel m’ body…” You mumbled, already feeling sleepy, and wrapped your hands around Bucky’s body.

“Sleep, baby.” The soft material fell on your back, covering your naked bodies. You felt a light kiss on top of your head, and Bucky’s arm hugged your back, holding you closer to him.

You weren't sure, but right before you drifted to sleep, you heard something that weirdly sounded like “I love you.”

part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky smut

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yoursweetwife · 3 months

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Synopsis: you were sure of the excellence of your cooking, and you didn't want to throw it away due to lack of hunger, so you decided to feed the Ratio.

Warning: the reader is an excellent cook, fluff, friends to lovers, professor!reader, I'm sure that Ratio hates cooking, I won't change my mind.

There are three things that most infuriate Ratio.

Idiots.

When his phone is bursting with calls and messages.

Cooking.

It's not that Veritas doesn't know how to cook, he knows a couple of recipes, is smart enough not to burn down the kitchen, the cooking process itself irritates him.

However, too often the Ratio instead of the usual dinner or breakfast drinks a cup of coffee or eats a hastily prepared salad. Even at work, he rarely took a lunch break and locked himself in his office, the food in the dining room did not attract him at all, so attempts by other colleagues to invite him to have lunch together were ignored.

On one of those days, you decided to go up to him and treat him to your food. You didn't have an appetite today, and you don't want to just leave one of the best dishes you've ever cooked.

When everyone left for lunch, you walked into his classroom and briskly walked up to the workplace of Ratio.

At the sight of you, the scientist stopped putting things away and looked at you.

Because of the plaster mask, you couldn't see his expression, but you can tell from his friendly voice that he doesn't mind your presence.After all, you are one of the few whose mind Veritas has recognized as almost equal to his own. It became a catalyst for your friendship.

"Professor [Surname], what brings you to me? You usually have lunch with other people at this time."

He sat down on the chair again, holding the book in his hands, waiting for the moment when he could open it.

"Enough of these formalities, we're alone," a smile lit up your face and you quickly groped for the food container in your hands. - and about lunch..."

You held out the box and looked expectantly at Ratio, who didn't even move.

"I'm not hungry today, so I want to give this to you."

"So give it to someone else."

You puffed out your cheeks and made the saddest look, trying to convince Veritas. At such moments, he did not understand what he found interesting in your childish behavior. Nevertheless, he was attracted to it.

"I want you to try it. I swear, it's very tasty and healthy! Ratio, you won't regret it."

The scientist sighed in amazement and put the book aside. No matter how strong his desire to refuse, it was pointless to resist you.

"So be it, I'll try it."

You smiled gratefully and held out your hands to Veritas. When Ratio's hands touched yours, he couldn't help but feel the warmth from them.

"Fantastic, then you can share your impressions. - you looked at your watch and exclaimed in amazement. "Oh no, I still have to prepare for the lesson!"

Waving goodbye, you left his office, leaving Ratio alone with your "gift".

The smell of freshly cooked food filled the empty room as if it had been cooked just today.

Even the plaster head couldn't stop the smell from spreading through his body.

It looked and smelled just great, for such a clumsy person like you, such filigree and neatness was just incredible.

Ratio winces at the memory of your workplace. He still doesn't understand how you can sort out all those papers and appliances on your desk.

"You can't tell the quality of food by the smell alone."

Soon the mask was left on the table, next to documents, books and tests for students.

The first piece and...

The soft texture of the meat began to delight his taste buds from the very first minutes. The golden eyes widened with an all-encompassing sense of pleasure.

It was the most delicious meal he had eaten in a while. His pride won't allow him to admit it out loud, no, admit to himself that he doesn't mind eating it every day.

Ratio didn't even notice how empty the container was. He mentally scolded himself for his lack of restraint and pushed the container aside.

His eyes ran over the lines of the book, reading the text, but his thoughts were about something else, the students should come soon, which means that he has very little time.

A smile formed on Veritas' face. Perhaps he should also be hinted that he doesn't mind at all if you bring him your cooking every day.

#Dr Ratio #hsr x reader #female reader #dr ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio x reader #fem!reader #I have a lot of problems with English

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kelin-is-writing · 1 year

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+18 MDNI

dabi x fem!reader; he’s so needy in this one my god, breeding kink, stomach bulge, creampie, oral (f!receiving), blow job. BE AWARE.

pussydrunk!dabi who just can’t help but let out a throaty dragged groan whenever he’s balls deep inside of you, tip kissing your cervix, and your walls clench around him like a vice making his turquoise eyes roll all the way back into his skull “f-fuck... it feels so damn good inside of you baby–!”, it’s what comes out of his gaping mouth all slurred, the warmness and wetness of your pussy around his cock making dabi’s brain become all mushy, no thoughts whatsoever, only him quivering at how blissful he was feeling in that moment, dick practically molding your walls into his shape, sending him in cloud nine.

he looks down watching how his cock disappears inside your pussy and then coming out covered in more juices he inhales a sharp breath from between gritted teethes “shit–!”, he would fuck you all day if it was for him, your cunt felt way too good to leave it empty.

when dabi’s eyes roam up and he sees the shape of his dick’s tip in your belly his breath hitch inside his throat, he secures his hold on your waist and lifting himself a little on his knees he angles his hips higher and then picks up pace, groaning along with each thrust while getting high on the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, the loud moans coming out from that pretty mouth of yours making the whole thing even better “aah fuck–! cumming! fuck fuck fuck. fuck–! i’m gonna cum so hard...”, he whimpers while resting his hands at the sides of your head, holding onto the sheets underneath you for dear life as his hips starts pounding inside your pussy at a speed that made you let out a choked moan; dabi stares your way dazed before he leans down looking at you with pleading eyes and cheeks tainted of pink as he panted, leaving you totally speechless at his state “lemme cum inside of you princess, please. i need it so fucking bad, wanna fill up your pretty pussy to the brim with my kids... allow me...”, the raven-haired boy spoke an inch away from your face with a needy low husky tone that was so hot and sexy, those butterflies inside your belly went crazy to say the least, how can you even say no to a request made in such an endearing way?

when dabi spills his seed into your cervix and long your walls, the both of you were in pure ecstasy, mind totally empty. you were panting at the fantastic sensation of his hot cum inside of you, body trembling uncontrollably from the aftermath of your own orgasm, while dabi is glancing down where you two are connected watching his cum pooling at the base of his cock “nnh... so fucking good... wanna stay inside of you forever baby.”, as he pushes his hips flush into yours mumbling about how he can’t let any of it spill, your pitiful whine because of the overstimulation making him groan before he thrusts slowly once into you for the sake of pushing as much seed as he can inside your hole.

pussydrunk!dabi who would seriously eat you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner, tongue flat on your cunt licking between your folds with long stripes or slurping on it loudly and languidly like a starved man eating a full course meal for the very first time.

dabi’s favorite position to eat you out is you sitting on his face, the smell of your arousal is enough to make him hard but the moment your pussy rests on his mouth he’s in heaven, eyes rolling back as his arms go to encircle your thighs to push you down even more on him, because that wasn’t enough, he needed more “ahh yeah... pure fucking bliss...”, he groaned while starting to makeout with your cunt, tongue teasing your entrance a few times deluding you into thinking he was gonna put it in before he goes to lick in circles your throbbing clit “shit... you taste so damn good doll, would devour you all day.”, comes a muffled praise from dabi that makes your pussy clench around nothing and that made such a sinful moan come out of his lips that got you now let out an especially loud one, his palms going to fondle your ass before they slid up to your waist rubbing circles on them and then higher, cupping your breasts gently before squeezing them. when you started grind your cunt against his mouth, you could feel a grin curl up dabi’s lips in satisfaction as he glanced intensely and feverishly at your pleading needy face “i got you baby.”, before he fluttered his eyes close to savour every second while pushing his tongue past your fold and inside your pussy, starting to slurp on it while tongue-fucking you and feeding off of your tasty juices and sublime moans not caring one bit about the fact that you were pulling on his hair whilst crying out in pleasure.

when you come all over his face, dabi groans along your moan with his cerulean irisies leaving space to pearl white, arms plopping wide open onto the mattress loudly as he drank every single drop of your juices like he hasn’t had something to drink in ages, his own cum dripping long his shaft and plastered all over his pelvis.

“thank you for the meal.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #dabi #touya todoroki #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader smut #pussydrunk!dabi #kelin 🖋#wanted to say that i'm a huge ass shameless dabi brain rot but like– when am i not really??

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berrieluv · 9 months

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<3; aaron johnson x reader (i think i didn't use pronouns but it's mention that the reader has a vagina) summary: you know damn well, you horny friends. kiki says: this fits contains unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), cheating kink, the feel of guilt that it's never enough to make him stop, i think this smut it's very light, just trying to keep you fed while i work in the angst. also english isn't my first language so i apologize for the bad writing.

me and your husband.

For the public, having you involved in the movie Kraven with Aaron after Bullet Train was just a normal occurrence, two actors working together more than once, nothing that hasn't happen before and nothing that won't happen again.

For Aaron, it was just his masterplan working. He craved you near him, he needed you there. He couldn't function properly anymore without you, without your body and the way your legs wrap around his neck.

His blue eyes are long gone by now, so full with lust he can not think of anything else. He already made you cum three times before you had to take a shower and attend a date, and now here you are again, seizing the day like you started it, with his tongue inside your wet cunt.

He kisses your thigh softly, his hand behind your knee, his mouth marking every inch of your skin with kisses, smelling your dripping pussy and looking amused at the wet spot on the beige sheets.

"You bought them for me?" He moans, looking at your lingerie next to him, the one he just took off the moment you walked back from dinner, his face buried between your thighs, you didn't. You bought them because they were pretty and expensive, and you could afford them "You look so pretty" He says.

His wife is sleeping in the next room, if you get close enough to the wall you could hear her sleep, which was weird, an expensive five stars hotel with thin walls, you must think they would be soundproof for the price. Or maybe it was your guilt, your senses sharpened in shame, making sure you never forget he's a married man.

But maybe you weren't better than that, but why should you. He wanted you, he needed you and loved you even more than you found him attractive, which was to say much.

"Fuck..." You moan when Aaron's tongue was inside your pussy. His hand grabbing your underwear and placing it on your thigh again, grabbing your skin and the lingerie along, the other hand over your belly, keeping you grounded.

Aaron licks the sides of your pussy, his tongue gently going through your folds, he teases your sensitive parts, hitting the right places, he knows how to use his tongue, and it feels like it has been wasted all this time.

Your moans grew louder when two of his fingers are inside you without any previous notice, moving them in and out, his tongue sucking on your clit and you feel yourself getting lost in pleasure.

"Is this good?" He asks out of breath, a big smile plastered across his face, almost like he thought he didn't need anything else but the sweet scent of your dripping cunt.

Was it good? It was fantastic.

"Hold for me, princess?" He asks softly, your legs curled up while your hands keep them up grabbing behind your knees.

He touches your ass, his hand traveling all over every part of your body, his lips are all over your sweet wet cunt, eating like a starving man, making sure every single drop of your wetness goes into his mouth.

"I need you..." He moans against your folds "Fuck, I need you so much"

Aaron takes all of your release, drinking it all, when he looks up his chin is all wet and a spark of proudness in his eyes.

He doesn't even look this proud when he's on a press conference.

"Keep holding your legs" He orders, taking off his jeans and boxers "Good girl" He praises with a smile when he walks back to bed.

You remind silence most of the times, your words consumed by your moans and whimpers, you want him so badly.

"Please..." You finally find the way to speak, your breath heavy and your heart beating faster than it should when he starts thrusting into you. His right hand holding himself on the mattress to not lay all of his weight on you.

His left hand massaging your breasts, treating it like it was a stress ball.

"Shit, princess" He moans, his eyes closing even if he tries to fight it, he loves watching you. He loves the look in your eyes and how they roll, going all blank when he starts thrusting faster.

"Oh!" You moan, and he smirks like a bastard, enjoying knowing he's the one making you feel like this "Oh, God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry, almost chocking in your own pleasure.

"Sh, sh..." He coos "Baby, you're chocking, princess" He chuckles, enjoying your desperation "I'm not even near your throat"

He caresses your cheek with a soft smile, moving slowly down to your throat, applying just the right pressure to make you gasp for air, shutting your moans.

"Don't be so loud..." He demands, it was meant to be teasing, but his voice sounds dominant, his expression is serious and his eyes darkened with lust and need of control "You know Sam is in the next room"

Sam, he doesn't refer as my wife anymore. She stopped being my wife a few months ago, just a few weeks after you became my everything. The air he breathed, not only his wants but his needs.

You feel a warm sensation running through your insides, a loud groan when he lets it out, his cum painting your cunt and dripping down your skin.

"God, I love my little masterpiece" He chuckles, watching your thighs covered by his cunt. "You're tired?"

He asks softly and you nod, his phone starts ringing at the same time you hear his wife walking around their hotel room, you wonder if he hears her.

"Your phone..." You say with your eyes closed when he ignores it and walks to the bathroom.

"Can wait" He says without hesitation.

"What if it's your wife?" You know is her.

"She can wait" Aaron says, it's almost like he doesn't care and a part of you knows he doesn't. "I'll clean you up first, super star"

#aaron johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson fanfic #aaron johnson fanfic #aaron johnson fic #bullet train imagine #bullet train fanfic #bullet train smut #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven the hunter smut #kraven x reader

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domjaehyun · 1 year

Text

tangerine love (favorite) (l.dh)

PAIRING. haechan x fem!reader

GENRES. fluff, smut, light humor

WORD COUNT. 21.8k

CONTENTS. explicit smut (oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cumming inside, riding, breast/nipple play, haechan kinda likes to talk dirty)

NOTES. mandarins and tangerines are actually not interchangeable but for the sake of this fic, i do not care. this was very fun to write. i hope you enjoy it!! please leave feedback if you liked it :)

PLAYLIST. plastic off the sofa - beyoncé // tangerine love (favorite) - nct dream

Ever since moving into this new apartment complex with your friends Mijoo and Chuu, you’ve only caught a few glimpses of the three guys that live directly across the hall from you.

Renjun, Jaemin, and Haechan all seem like nice guys in passing, always smiling politely and waving, but there’s always been something…different about Haechan. You could chalk it up to a budding crush on the handsome male, but there’s always a playful air to his presence, his eyes glinting with a secret you’re begging to be let in on.

You barely get any discerning words in whenever you pass by each other, the only notable time you’ve spent together being in a quick trip up to your floor in the elevator, and you spent that whole time trying to avoid getting caught ogling his attractive features.

Based on the small amused chuckle he’d let out after a quick glance to you as he’d gestured for you to exit first, you think you weren’t as discreet as you’d hoped to be.

That mildly embarrassing incident, however, only registers as a 3 on the Embarrassment Richter Scale that you definitely did not just make up.

What definitely classifies as a 6, however, and you’re not being dramatic (probably), is tonight, when you make it to your apartment at 4:00am to find that you’ve forgotten your key and are, therefore, locked out.

After three unanswered calls to each of your roommates’ phones and four whining voicemails, you begin to lose hope.

“Oh, come on,” you mutter, restlessly shifting from foot to foot as you knock at the door insistently. “Wake up, wake up—”

“Hey, neighbor,” you hear from behind you, and you hesitate, praying you’ve incorrectly matched the voice to a person, before turning around.

Of course, because your luck is just fantastic, none other than Haechan stands behind you, leaning against the wall by his front door.

“Hey,” you offer a small wave, and he raises his eyebrows, gesturing at your door with a hand holding a beer can. “Locked out.”

“Ah,” he says sympathetically. “That sucks. Have you tried kicking it?”

“K-Kicking it?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion, and he nods, striding across the hall to stand beside you. He smells amazing, you note with a dreamy sigh that you hope he didn’t hear, and he points to the part of the door where the lock is.

“Yeah, maybe if you kick it right here,” he cranes his head to look at you, smirking slightly when you blink at him wide-eyed, “you can kick the door in. I saw it on TV once.”

“We aren’t on TV,” you comment with a small snort, making Haechan chuckle and nod in agreement, “but I can give it a try.” You step back and rear up, kicking the door where Haechan pointed as hard as you can.

The sound is embarrassingly loud and the black shoe print on your door is only a testament to your failed attempt to gain access to your apartment.

Haechan snickers loudly from beside you, and you turn to him, eyes narrowed.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, holding his hands up in the air defensively. “It was an impressive kick, though.”

You straighten up slightly at the compliment, smoothing down your jacket. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says sincerely. “You’ve got a lot of power in those legs.”

“Thanks,” you hum thoughtfully.

“What are you even doing out so late? It’s not safe to be out alone at this hour.” Haechan asks, and you huff in defeat.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to go for a walk to de-stress, y’know? Clear my head.” you sigh.

“I see,” he remarks, taking a sip from his can as he leans against the wall beside your door. “Well, how’d that work out for you?” His tone is teasing, and when you turn to glare at him, the playful look on his face makes it impossible for you to maintain the disdainful expression.

“Not great,” you mutter, smiling despite your situation.

“Well, y’know, if you wanna come in until one of your roommates wakes up, you’re more than welcome,” Haechan offers, jerking his chin in the direction of his door.

“That’s a very nice offer,” you say appreciatively. “Why are you awake, actually?”

“I don’t like to sleep.” Haechan answers, shrugging.

You blink at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he chirps. “Sleep makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.”

“The FOMO runs strong in you, I see.” You offer a wry smile which he returns and you lean your back against your front door beside him. Looking over at you, he pushes off of the wall and turns so he’s standing in front of you.

You really wish he hadn’t done that, actually, because now you’re forced to confront how unfairly handsome he is, and you suspect Haechan knows that, given the way his eyebrow arches attractively.

“Think about it this way,” he shifts closer to you slightly, his tongue running over his bottom lip, “I would’ve missed out on getting to talk to you tonight if I was sleeping.”

“Very true,” you muse with a small smile, and he grins. “Didn’t know that my company is worth staying up for.”

“Of course it is,” he scoffs. “Who else is gonna stare at me when she thinks I’m not looking?” His words freeze you in place, your expression resembling a deer in headlights before he laughs to break the tension. “I’m teasing.”

“Oh,” you mumble, but you both know there’s truth to his words; your face doesn’t hide your emotions well at all, and you’re surprised you’ve managed to go this long without looking at him and practically swooning.

“Cute,” he says softly, eyes scanning your face.

Before you even get to comment on the unexpected compliment, your door unlocks and you spring forward just in time to avoid falling back as it opens. A very sleepy, very cranky Mijoo stands in your doorway, eyes barely open as she holds the door open for you.

In your haste to get off of the door, you fail to realize your surroundings, lurching forward and directly into Haechan’s personal space. Your chests are but a breath away from touching, and he chuckles, bracing you with both hands on your hips. The cold condensation of his can seeps into the hem of your shirt and you swallow hard as you look up at him sheepishly.

“Sorry about that,” you mumble, stepping back slightly, realizing a moment later that Haechan still hasn’t released your hips. He seems to notice when you do, clearing his throat and dropping his hands back to his sides with a small smile.

Turning to thank Mijoo, you notice that she’s already left, presumably having shuffled off to her bedroom to resume her sleep, leaving the door slightly ajar with a slipper.

“Glad you got in,” he remarks, gesturing behind you at your apartment, and you nod in appreciation.

“Thanks for, uh, keeping me company.” you say with a bashful smile.

“No problem.” He walks backwards to his front door, opening it without looking, and raises two fingers to his brow in a mock salute.

“Good night.” You bid him goodbye with a wave, turning to head into your apartment before he calls your name, prompting you to turn back around. “Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” He sounds, if you’re not crazy, like he’s flirting with you, and your eyes widen as he lifts his brows in a playful wiggle.

“Okay,” you agree with an almost robotic nod, and he grins before turning and heading into his apartment, prompting you to follow suit.

When the door’s shut and locked, you let out a long exhale, finally letting your giddy squeals bubble up out of you.

He called you cute. He called you cute and he touched your hips, and he was so close—

Okay, maybe the Embarrassment Richter Scale would classify that as a 4 instead—points were docked because it may have actually worked out in your favor somewhat.

You haven’t really fulfilled your promise of not being a stranger with Haechan; he still makes your heart skip a nervous little beat every time he grins at you from across a room or waves at you in passing.

He, however, is doing a great job of not being a stranger with your roommates, both of them regaling you with funny things Haechan has told them in various conversations. Chuu works with Haechan at the bookstore, as it turns out, and Mijoo just has a convenient schedule, running into your handsome neighbor more often than you do.

Are you bitter? No. Absolutely not. Are you jealous? Not in the slightest.

Are you lying about both of those things? Yes, entirely.

You’re heading out of your apartment to the grocery store, locking the door behind you when you hear the door across the hall open.

Turning to see who it is, your eyes widen and a giddy little smile tugs at your lips as Haechan looks you up and down.

“Well, look who it is,” Haechan greets you, and your smile widens.

“Hi, Haechan.” you say softly, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“Where are you headed?”

“The grocery store,” you explain, showing him your tote bag filled with reusable shopping bags.

“What a coincidence,” he muses, stepping closer to you. “So am I?”

“Really?” you say in surprise, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah,” he confirms, stepping even closer to you. He’s close enough now that you can smell the warm, cozy scent of his cologne. “You didn’t keep your promise,” he points out, frowning very attractively at you.

“About not being a stranger?” you ask, and he nods, his frown deepening.

As cute as he is like that, you don’t think you ever want to be the reason he frowns again.

“You can make it up to me if you wanna,” he suggests, a playful lilt to his voice, and you raise an eyebrow suspiciously.

“How’s that?”

“Be my shopping buddy for today.”

You pretend to think about it, smiling when he looks at you expectantly. “Okay.”

“Great! We can take my car.”

“Oh, thank God. I was gonna walk.”

“Aren’t you lucky to have me?” He grins and gestures down the hall for you to walk with him.

“Something like that,” you mumble under your breath, Haechan thankfully not hearing you.

The ride to the store is pleasant, Haechan playing music in the car—almost exclusively Michael Jackson, to be specific, with the inclusion of some other artists—and you two talk the whole time, never a lull in the conversation as you learn more about each other.

He works at the bookstore a couple blocks down from the record store you work at, likes playing video games and listening to music, and is, on top of an incessant flirt, a very attentive listener.

You two make your way through the store gradually, your shared cart filled with various frozen goods and produce items. You’re in the fruits section, inspecting bags of mandarins to find the best bunch, when you both start to speak.

“Hey, I just thought—”

“You know what’s so—”

You both stop talking at the same time, laughing before you gesture for him to speak.

“I was just thinking about how you work at the record store; do you guys have this one Michael Jackson vinyl? It’s limited edition, so you probably don’t, but—”

“What’s it look like?” you ask, and he pulls up a picture on his phone, showing you and looking at you hopefully.

“I can’t say no for sure, because I haven’t checked. I’ll check and let you know!” you assure him, and he smiles in relief.

“That’d be awesome. I’ve been looking for it everywhere. What were you gonna say?”

“I was gonna say that it’s so sick that produce companies put mandarins and other orange citruses in orange netted bags to make them look more appealing.” you huff, inspecting the bag you’re holding more carefully.

“It’s sneaky,” Haechan agrees with a small smile as he watches you.

“It’s deceitful!” you exclaim indignantly, and he snorts, barely biting back his laughter. “I’m serious!” You frown, and he hums sympathetically.

“I understand.” He pats your shoulder gently, his hand lingering for a moment before dropping, his fingers grazing your arm on the way down.

“I think these are good.” you finally decide, placing your bag in the cart, and Haechan quickly looks over the mandarins, plucking a bag of his own and placing it in the bottom of the cart. “You like mandarins, too?”

“Love them,” he confirms, and you smile, pleasantly surprised. “Do you have anything else on your list?”

“Nope; you?”

“Nope. Let’s go to the check-out aisle?” He gestures towards the front of the store, and you nod, walking beside him as you both push the cart. (Well, truthfully, Haechan is doing all the pushing; your hands are on the bar for decoration, essentially.)

When you get to the front aisle, a familiar voice calls your name and you crane your head to find the source.

“I think it’s Mijoo,” Haechan murmurs, also looking around.

Do you bristle slightly at the thought that he recognized your friend’s voice before you did? No, absolutely not. And you’re definitely not lying to yourself right now.

You find her in aisle six, loading up your groceries on the conveyor belt and separating them with the divider as you greet Mijoo.

“How’s work?” you ask curiously, and she frowns deeply. “Oh, no.”

“I just got yelled at by some old lady who got mad I wouldn’t take her expired coupons. They expired four months ago.” Her face is deadpan, and you wince.

“Damn,” you sigh sympathetically as she scans your groceries. “If you want her to suffer, give me a call.”

She snorts loudly, putting in her employee code so you’ll get a discount on the groceries, and looks at you with an amused but unimpressed stare. “What are you gonna do?”

“Steal her cane or something, I don’t know.”

“That’s evil,” Mijoo giggles, gesturing for you to pay. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“You left something in the cart,” Haechan calls to you, and you frown, turning back to check. He shifts to take your place as you check before saying, “Oh, sorry, I think that’s mine, actually.” He smiles sheepishly, and you wave him off gently, turning back to the pin pad to see “Transaction Approved!” You turn to look at Haechan, who’s putting his card away, and shoot him an incredulous stare.

“What?” He’s grinning cheekily at you, and you splutter awkwardly.

“Did you just pay for my groceries?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he replies smoothly, and you narrow your eyes, looking over at Mijoo for support.

She raises her hands in surrender, looking down at her scanner. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“Traitor!” you whisper incredulously, and she frowns at you.

“Sorry.”

You direct your narrowed-eyed gaze to Haechan for a moment and then shuffle to the bagging section, carefully packing up your groceries as Haechan checks out his groceries. As they come down the conveyor belt, you package his things up too, and he smiles gratefully at you as he makes his way to you.

You catch him giving Mijoo a fist bump and murmuring, “Thanks,” as you’re finishing up the bagging, and you huff petulantly, loading up everything into the cart.

You bid Mijoo goodbye and head out of the store, walking to Haechan’s car and starting to take things out of the cart as he opens the trunk.

“You’re pretty close with my roommates,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, side-eyeing Haechan.

“Not really,” he dismisses you. “I work with Chuu at the bookstore, and I really just see Mijoo in passing.”

“Well, you guys were all buddy-buddy just now,” you point out, trying your best to hide the jealousy creeping into your tone.

Your attempt fails, if Haechan raising his eyebrow in amusement is any indication.

“Are you…jealous?” Haechan asks with a smile, and your eyes widen.

“No!” you yelp, clutching a bag to your chest almost protectively. “I am not.”

“You totally are,” he snickers, and your brows furrow. “It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute,” you counter, “because I am not jealous.”

“Oh, yeah?” Poking his tongue into his cheek and grinning at you, his casually attractive appearance practically takes your breath away.

“Yeah,” you mumble weakly. “I totally don’t mind that you talk to my roommates more than you talk to me. Doesn’t bother me at all.” Haechan doesn’t respond for a moment, giving you the opportunity to place the last bag in the trunk of the car. When you shut the trunk and turn around, you jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity, the two of you almost face to face, and he chuckles at your reaction before refocusing his gaze on your eyes.

“What if I said I was only befriending them to get close to you?” He raises his eyebrows with a flirtatious little wiggle, and you swallow thickly, looking down to break eye contact. Apparently, he doesn’t intend to give you a break anytime soon, ducking down slightly to lock eyes with you again. “Hm?”

“I’d ignore all of that,” you say slowly, carefully controlling the nervous yet excited tremor in your voice, “to ask why your face is this close to mine.”

“Why?” His eyes are alight with glee as he backs you up against the car slowly, and you gulp. “Does it make you nervous?”

“No,” you huff.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not lying!” you lie.

He raises his eyebrows again as if to say, “is that so?” He leans closer to you, now focused unwaveringly on your mouth, and wets his lips. You both stand frozen in place for a moment before he leans in closer and you break, yelping in panic before ducking so the crown of your head rests against his chest.

He calls your name softly and you shake your head, whining quietly in protest. He matches your tone, whining your name plaintively as he gently shakes your shoulders, and you peek up at him to see him grinning down at you.

“Told you.” He shoots you a smug upwards flick of his eyebrows before backing up to give you a moment of relief. “Now come on, the frozen stuff is gonna thaw.” When you don’t move at first, still stuck in place from the intimate moment you two just shared, he snickers and reaches for your hand, leading you to the passenger door, which he opens for you, waiting for you to get in.

Your body finally listens to you, sitting down in the passenger seat and strapping yourself in, and he shuts the door before making his way over to the driver’s side and getting in. He straps in and starts the car, looking over to you.

“You ready?”

You nod. “Ready.”

He smiles. “Then off we go.”

“Hey,” Haechan nudges you as you’re unloading the trunk, “I bet I can carry up more groceries than you.”

“No way.” you laugh, and his eyes light up as he grins before hurriedly snatching as many bags as his arms and hands can hold. “Haechan, there are eggs in here!” you warn in alarm as you grab bags quickly, swatting his hands away when he reaches for any bag you’ve set your sights on.

He shuts the trunk and locks the car before standing in front of you proudly. He’s definitely got you beat, holding no less than six bags of groceries, most of them being your reusable bags.

“You cheated,” you grumble bitterly, and he just grins and jerks his head towards the building.

“C’mon,” he says softly, walking towards the entrance. You walk after him and he says, “Do you know the real reason why I wanted to have that competition?”

“Because you’re competitive and wanted to see me meet my demise?” You look over at him, and he laughs before shaking his head.

“I wanted an excuse to be a gentleman and take your groceries up for you.” He holds the front door open for you, and you walk through, murmuring a “thank you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet,” you mumble sheepishly as you press the elevator button and avoid his gaze, and he shrugs, smiling.

“I’m a very sweet guy,” he says with a nod, and you nod slowly, looking him up and down. The elevator doors open and you both step in, Haechan pressing the button for your floor and leaning against the back wall as the doors slide shut. “What is it?” He looks over at you curiously, chuckling when he sees you smiling.

“Usually, sweet people don’t need to say they’re sweet, y’know.”

He looks up thoughtfully before nodding in agreement and looking back down at you. “Maybe I can show you how sweet I am, then.”

You can’t help but feel like he’s hinting at something else, but you push the thought from your mind and meet his gaze once more.

“Maybe you can.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open, Haechan gesturing for you to exit and following after you. A thought comes to you as you set your groceries down to find your keys and you turn to him once more. “Haechan?”

“Mm?”

“Was your plan to hold my groceries partially so I’d have to let you into my apartment to unload them?”

“No,” he says truthfully. “I did plan on seeing you for longer, though, so now you have to figure out which bags are yours and which are mine.” He grins proudly, and you raise an eyebrow.

“I bagged them separately.”

His face falls slightly, and you think you might hate that. “Oh.”

“But you wanna know something?” You’re quick to follow up in an attempt to comfort him, and he looks at you curiously. “I used my bags on everything, so…technically…”

“My stuff is in your bags.” His smile returns to his face and your muscles relax slightly in relief. “So…technically…”

“You and I have to unload all this stuff,” you say slowly, feigning a pout. “And who knows how long that’s gonna take?”

“Looks like we’re gonna be spending a bit more time together, yeah?” He’s grinning at you, stepping closer so the fronts of your shoes are touching, and you can’t help but mirror his smile, turning away abruptly to unlock your door.

“I guess so.”

As you, Mijoo, and Chuu become better acquainted with your handsome neighbors across the hall, you get closer and closer until hanging out with them is almost second nature. At this point, you’re no stranger to coming home and finding your neighbors and roommates sprawled around the living room; hell, you’ve often joined them if work hasn’t left you entirely drained.

You’re not even a stranger to the heated debates over nothingness that your friends often start fights about; you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, and often storm off to your room in a grandiose huff when your opinion is shot down.

(If you’re being honest, sometimes you’ll take the smallest opening to retreat to your room once you feel your social battery depleting, but you don’t plan on admitting that any time soon.)

This afternoon, when you unlock your front door, sounds of yelling greet you as you step into the apartment and kick your shoes off.

“You’re home!” Mijoo yells in relief, running into the entryway and beaming at you. “Just in time.”

“Time for what?” you ask warily, and more footsteps come rushing towards you as Chuu approaches rapidly.

“If a dog wore pants—”

“You’re cheating! Let her get in here first!” Renjun yells from the living room.

Chuu rolls her eyes. “If a dog wore pants—as a matter of fact, come here and show them.” She takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin sit in various spots.

You lock eyes with Haechan, who grins and flicks his brows upwards as a greeting, and you snort quietly in amusement, smiling at him.

“If a dog wore pants,” Chuu stresses, shaking your hand to get your attention, “how would it look?”

You snicker. “This is what you’re fighting about?”

“Yes, ma’am. Now answer the question.”

“On its back paws,” you answer easily, and Chuu, Haechan, Jaemin, and Renjun exclaim triumphantly as Mijoo cries out in despair. “Mijoo, you’re kidding, right?”

“No! He has four legs!” she defends herself emphatically, and you shake your head vigorously.

“But the front two function as hands! You don’t put pants on your hands!”

“But they walk on all fours!”

“But if you handed a dog a ball, it would never try to grab it with its back two paws! Because those are its feet-feet, not its hands-feet!”

“I feel so betrayed,” Mijoo wails, rubbing her hand over her face.

“I mean, it’s okay!” You attempt to cheer her up, and she looks at you with a frown. “You’re entitled to your opinion—no matter how wrong it is.” You grin teasingly and you can hear Haechan snicker loudly from his chair.

“You little—”

“Who else had a wrong opinion they wanna share?” You change the topic, dodging when Mijoo launches a pillow at you. It hits the lamp instead, which falls and hits the wall, leaving a scuff mark. “That better buff out,” you warn a now sheepish looking Mijoo. “I am not losing my security deposit over something as silly as this.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mutters petulantly, and you pat her shoulder comfortingly.

“Is that all you’ve been talking about?” you laugh as you make your way into the kitchen, washing your hands and grabbing the bag of mandarins, bringing them back into the living room with you.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Renjun sighs, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Eventful.” you say sarcastically, Haechan calling your name and catching your attention.

“Come sit with me,” Haechan offers, scooting over to create space for you in the armchair. The gesture is sweet, but there definitely isn’t enough space for both of you, so you settle for perching on the arm of the seat, draping your arm over the back of the chair.

Haechan rests his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you expectantly, and you lightly scratch the crown of his head in greeting.

“Hi,” he murmurs as the rest of your friends launch into another discussion about who knows what.

“Hey,” you reply softly, smiling down at him.

“Are you retreating into your room today?” Haechan frowns slightly as he asks, and you think about it before giving a small nod. “Why?” he complains, dragging the word out and shaking your knee rapidly.

“I’m tired,” you match his whiny cadence, scratching his scalp more in lieu of an apology. “You can come if you want.”

He perks up immediately, looking up at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna sleep, I’m just gonna relax.” you reply, and he nods eagerly, sitting up and offering you his hand.

“C’mon!” He’s practically bouncing in his seat with excitement and you have to bite back a laugh as you take his hand and stand up, leading him to your room.

“Wh—how come you’re going in her room with her?” Jaemin complains as you leave the living room.

“The vibes are better,” Haechan calls over his shoulder and you snicker, opening your door and tossing the bag of mandarins on your bed.

“You wait here; I wanna change.” You go through your drawers to pull out a more comfortable shirt and Haechan lies down on your bed, eyes taking in the entirety of your bedroom.

“Okay,” he hums peacefully, closing his eyes with a smile.

You go into the bathroom and change out of your blouse and into your t-shirt, leaving your jeans on and tossing your shirt in the hamper on your way back to your room.

“Welcome back,” Haechan greets you when you shut the door behind you, opening his eyes to look at you. His gaze lingers on you for a few moments longer than you were expecting, his lips curling into a grin when you shift awkwardly and turn away from him.

“Thank you,” you mumble, sitting on your bed and picking up your phone and a mandarin. “You can play music, by the way; my speaker system is the one with my name.”

Haechan nods and, as he’s setting up his connection to your speaker, says, “I was gonna ask; how was your day today?”

“It sucked, kinda. Well, I’m being dramatic, but my coworker was getting on my nerves.” you huff, and Haechan hums sympathetically. Selecting a song, he gets comfortable as the music filters in through the speakers. “I should have known you’d play Michael Jackson,” you chuckle fondly, and he smiles sheepishly.

“I love his music.” He frowns defensively, and you pat his hand gently.

“I know! I don’t blame you—he’s got an impressive discography.” you assure him, and you can see him relax slightly in your peripheral vision. Looking over at him, he’s got a relieved, content smile on his lips, his hooded eyes regarding you curiously.

“Tell me about your coworker?” he asks after a moment, and you pause mid-peeling of your mandarin.

“She’s just a micro-manager,” you huff, peeling the rest of the rind off and launching into your spiel. “She always tries to tell me what to do, but—I mean, I don’t, like, get paid to listen to her of all people, y’know?”

“I do know,” Haechan agrees, nodding in understanding. “That’s super annoying, actually.”

“It is!” you gripe before softening slightly and turning to Haechan. “Want some?” You hand him a piece of your mandarin, and he brightens, taking it gratefully and popping it into his mouth.

You two sit there for ages, to your surprise, talking about everything and nothing, from Haechan’s lazy slacker coworker to philosophical debates such as whether you’d rather be really small or really big (you’re both team little, for stealth purposes), sharing piece after piece of mandarin until your bed is practically covered in rinds and the pleasant smell of citrus lingers in the room.

“I like hanging out in your room,” Haechan muses thoughtfully, looking over at you.

“I’m glad,” you smile widely. “There are perks, y’know?”

“Yeah, there are snacks, good conversation, good music—and,” Haechan murmurs, his voice lowering ever so slightly in pitch as he studies your face, “I get a pretty view,” his voice softens to a whisper as he watches your lips, slowly wetting his own.

Your heart could just about beat out of your chest from the compliment, and the way he’s looking at your lips has your breath faltering, teeth anxiously nibbling at your bottom lip as you watch him watching you.

“Thanks,” you mumble quietly, and he nods, still studying your lips.

If you’re not crazy, it kind of seems like he’s about to lean in, and you brace yourself for impact, your eyelids drooping slightly in anticipation. Just as you expected, he breathes in softly, leans in closer, tilting his head to the side, and—

A knock on your door makes you flinch and him freeze, a small sigh leaving his lips as he pulls back and jerks his chin towards the door, reminding you there’s someone waiting.

“Come in!” you call, and Chuu and Jaemin poke their heads into your room curiously.

“We’re ordering food; do you guys want anything?” Chuu offers, and you look at each other before nodding in agreement. “Cool; come put in your orders soon!”

“We’ll be right out,” Haechan assures them, and Chuu removes her head from the doorway, probably heading down the hall.

Jaemin scrutinizes you two carefully, making your skin crawl anxiously as he regards you with suspicion.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a frown, desperately hoping you don’t look as guilty as you feel.

“Kinda thought you two would be—never mind.” Jaemin says cryptically, giving you both one last once-over before leaving your room and shutting your door.

You two are silent, the only sound in the room being the music playing in the background, and you can barely bring yourself to look at Haechan, already very aware that he’s looking at you.

“Wanna go get some food?” he breaks the silence, and you nod immediately, grasping at the topic shift like a lifeline.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Oh, damn,” Haechan’s sympathetic wince sounds out from behind you and you turn to look at him, hissing and turning back around as water starts to drip towards your elbow. “They put you on dish duty tonight, I see.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shooting him a frown over your shoulder. “Woe is me.”

“Poor baby,” he coos playfully, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the island counter. Before you can either attempt to recuperate from the pet name or ask what he’s up to, he nudges you aside and picks up the spare dish cloth. “Don’t worry; Haechan is here to help.”

“My hero,” you joke, pretending to swoon, and he laughs as he soaps up his cloth and starts washing a plate. “No, but I do appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses you casually. “I was actually looking for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. “Why’s that?”

“I wanna get your opinion on something.” Haechan says slowly, carefully, and you nod, a silent sign for him to continue. “Well, I have this friend,” Haechan starts off, monitoring your expression out of the corner of his eye. “He’s really into this girl, but he doesn’t know if he should go for it or not.”

“Hm. Does the girl seem interested?” you ask, trying to get a better sense of the situation, and Haechan pauses, looking at you again and chuckling as he shakes his head.

“He can’t fully tell,” he answers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he sets the plate down and picks up a bowl. “She’s a little clueless.”

“Maybe tell your friend to give it some time to get a better idea of where she’s at.” you suggest, and Haechan nods slowly, thinking it over.

“But here’s the thing,” Haechan adds, “I—my friend wants to kiss this girl so badly.”

“Aw,” you hum sympathetically. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah, poor guy,” Haechan mumbles, and you become very aware of the fact that he’s staring right at the side of your face.

You fixate on a piece of food stuck on the plate you’re washing, scrubbing at the spot vigorously to do away with your nerves.

Haechan pushes away from the sink, drying his hands and leaning against the island behind you, his still detectable, very probing stare sending shivers down your spine.

“He really wants to kiss her, y’know.” he stresses, and you pause because, for one of the first times in your adult life, you think you’re finally starting to get the hint.

“Yeah?” The word feels like it’s stuck in your throat, your heart rate picking up considerably as the poor thing thuds away in your chest.

“Mhm,” Haechan confirms, his voice lilting as if trying to lead someone to an answer. “He thinks about it all the time.”

“Maybe she wants him to kiss her,” you murmur, and you could swear Haechan’s breathing stops, at least for a moment. He says nothing for an uncomfortably long time, your words hanging in the air between you two.

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, testing the waters, and you can’t bring yourself to speak, your rapidly beating heart migrating up into your throat.

You nod.

He’s silent for what feels like ages, then he’s calling your name quietly, but urgently. His voice sounds significantly closer and the thought of being so close to him at a time like this has excitement bubbling inside of you.

“Hm?” Your response comes out as a squeak, to your utter embarrassment, but as Haechan places his hands on your hips and slowly turns you to face him, you get the sense that he might not be too focused on that.

He searches your eyes for something—you don’t know what—and, seemingly satisfied, his intent, determined gaze drops slowly to your lips. He takes a step closer, and another, his chest brushing against yours with every breath either of you take.

You swallow thickly, instinctively moving with him as he backs you up against the kitchen sink.

“Haechan?” you call breathlessly.

His gaze doesn’t move from your lips, his own mouth curling into a small smirk. “Mm?”

“Why are you so close?” you ask, the anticipation reaching its boiling point.

He finally looks away from your mouth, meeting your eyes as he speaks with a raised eyebrow and a flirtatious little grin. “I can’t kiss you from anywhere else, can I?”

There, with soapy water dripping down your forearms and onto the floor and the faint chatter of your friends in the other room, Haechan kisses you for the first time.

His lips are warm and soft, and his hands are still slightly damp as one cups the side of your neck, thumb gently stroking your cheek, and the other presses against the small of your back, drawing you in closer.

As your lips move against the other’s, you come to your senses slightly and regain control of your body, wrapping one arm around his neck before pulling back quickly in realization.

His eyes are still closed for a fleeting moment after the kiss, lips parted slightly before he opens his eyes and regards you curiously.

“My hands,” you mumble before he has a chance to misread the situation, wiping them on your jeans hurriedly as your eyes fixate on a drop of water on the floor to avoid looking at him, “they’re all wet. From the sink water—”

Haechan calls your name with a laugh on the tip of his tongue, and you drag your gaze to meet his.

“Yes?”

“I don’t care about that.” he assures you, pulling you back in and slotting his lips with yours. “Just kiss me.” It’s mumbled into and against your mouth, just like your responding nervous (but excited) giggle into and against his own, but it’s understood all the same, and you do.

You do kiss him again—and again—and again, until you manage to separate from him long enough to turn off the sink water—and again, as he hooks his index finger through one of the front belt loops on your jeans and pulls you in closer, his other hand squeezing your hip—and once more, before the sound of footsteps coming towards the kitchen finally forces you two apart.

Haechan’s cheeks are reddened, yours are blazing with heat, neither of you can stop smiling, and the room is filled with tension so palpable that Mijoo and Renjun look between the two of you in confusion, sharing a bewildered glance between themselves before placing their dishes in the sink and exiting the kitchen.

(And then you kiss him again.)

Late one night, you’re awake in bed, scrolling through social media apps mindlessly, when a text comes in on your phone.

haechan: are you awake

you: no

haechan: ha ha very funny

haechan: i’m bored

you: me too

haechan: keep me company :)

haechan: come over

you: no it’s 3am

haechan: so? come over

you: i’m cozy i’m not moving

haechan: stubborn ass

you: :( mean

haechan: don’t worry i actually love your ass

you: :O that’s not very platonic of you

haechan: come over and i’ll show you just how not-platonic i can get

you: i’m not moving

haechan: UGH

you: :p sorry !! i have snacks in here i’m never leaving

haechan: …what kinds of snacks

You have a feeling you know where this is heading, so you muster the energy to get out of bed and head to your front door, unlocking it and heading back to your room.

you: come over and find out

haechan: gimme a sec

There’s radio silence for several minutes, then you hear a knock on the front door.

you: it’s unlocked :)

Despite the preparation you took for his arrival, you decide to get up and meet him, heading down the hall to see him shutting the door behind himself, locking the door and kicking off his slides.

“Hi,” you say with a smile, and he frowns at you in disapproval, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. “What?”

“You know how risky it is to leave your door unlocked?” Haechan asks as you get closer to him.

“It was unlocked for a total of fifteen minutes, max.” You roll your eyes, letting out a chuckle.

“So? That’s more than enough time.”

“Time for what, exactly?”

“Enough time for someone to sneak in here and,” Haechan focuses on your lips, staring at them as he continues in a softer, more suggestive voice, “have their way with you.”

You smile, amused, and make a show of looking all around. Leaning in, you whisper, “Haechan, you’re the only one here; are you planning to have your way with me?”

Haechan grins mischievously. “That’s a secret.” When you gasp and push his shoulder, he laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m kidding!”

“Sure,” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. “C’mon, it’s cold in here and the heat’s on in my room.” He follows you into the kitchen, cheering silently when you grab the produce bag of mandarins and head to your room. Kicking off your slippers, you climb onto your bed, Haechan following suit, and sit cross-legged, placing the bag of mandarins in front of you.

Haechan sits in front of you as you reach for a mandarin, peeling it with ease and separating a piece, offering it to Haechan. He takes it readily, chewing contently as he peels a mandarin of his own, offering you a piece of his.

You’re not entirely sure why you two are swapping pieces as opposed to just eating your respective mandarins, but you figure there’s something tender about sharing the fruit with each other.

“What was keeping you up tonight?” you ask curiously, offering him another piece.

“Hm?” He looks up at you, handing you the mandarin piece he just separated.

“Your FOMO,” you remind him, and he grins as he thinks back to your first real conversation on the night you got locked out. “What did you not wanna miss out on tonight?”

“Talking to you,” he coos flirtatiously, and you roll your eyes and scoff in amusement.

“Sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“You didn’t even know I was up!”

“That was the point of texting you. If you hadn’t answered, I would’ve just gone to bed.” he counters, and your cheeks warm at how endearing it is that he was waiting to talk to you.

“Cute.” you mumble, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise, grinning and leaning closer to you. You groan with a laugh, and stuff your last piece of mandarin in his mouth. “Shut up.”

“Hey!”

“No talking with your mouth full,” you point out, and he narrows his eyes at you playfully before chewing it and focusing on pulling the last bits of pith off of his last piece of mandarin.

“Open,” Haechan murmurs, bringing the piece to your mouth. You give him a funny look, but he nods in confirmation and wiggles the piece, dropping it in his haste but managing to catch it before it lands. His index finger’s half punctured it, juice from the section dripping down his finger to the knuckle, and he frowns (very cutely, you might add) and moves to put it in his mouth instead.

You don’t know what possesses you. Maybe the universe’s pushing you to finally do something about all the tension that’s built up between you two. Whatever it is, you suppose you owe it a thank you.

You catch his hand halfway to his mouth and steer it towards yours instead. He raises an eyebrow, looking from his hand to you curiously, and you swallow thickly.

The bead of juice drips down ever so slightly, as if reminding you to make your move, and so you do. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you take the mandarin piece into your mouth, pushing it to the inside of your cheek, and lick the droplet off of his finger, halting when your tongue reaches his fingertip and looking at him for a sign of something, anything.

His eyes have a wild glint to them and he looks up from your mouth to your eyes, raising both eyebrows this time in a silent challenge.

You suck his finger into your mouth, and he groans under his breath, shifting closer to you as he watches his finger disappear between your lips.

The look in his eyes—like he’s about to lunge at you, frankly—and his slightly parted lips work together to wipe your mind blank, your eyes glazing over as you suck on his finger. Meeting his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, you swirl your tongue around the digit and he hisses, leaning in so closely your noses are almost touching.

His attention shifts between your mouth and your eyes rapidly, slowly wetting his bottom lip and tucking it between his teeth. Experimentally, he pulls his finger back slightly and you truly don’t know what comes over you but you whine, sucking slightly harder.

He pulls his finger out of your mouth and raises his eyebrows at your disappointed, slightly dazed expression. He shifts back slightly, as if remembering the situation you two are in, and you take the opportunity to chew and swallow the piece of mandarin stuffed in your cheek.

“Don’t give me that look.” His voice is low and dangerously soft, the warning more than prevalent.

“What look?” It’s a struggle to say it without sounding breathy or whiny, but you manage, mentally patting yourself on the back.

“Don’t play dumb,” he warns you, “you know exactly what you’re doing.��

You don’t, actually. You kind of wish you did. Maybe you’d have a better idea of what he’s thinking.

Haechan looks down to the side, staring at your comforter hosting the mandarin rinds, and starts to speak. “You know, I don’t wanna ruin our friendship, but I keep thinking about our kiss the other week.”

You don’t blame him; it’s shifted your relationship subtly but noticeably and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t frequently occupying your mind. Ever since that evening and the kisses you two shared, you couldn’t stop thinking about how he held you, his taste, his smell, the almost desperate way your lips kept connecting, the way his smile felt against your mouth—

“Ruin it.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears you all the same, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he stares at your lips. He leans closer, moving his body towards yours as he brings himself within kissing distance, and a tremble of excitement travels down your spine as you do the same.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Haechan confesses in a hushed murmur, and you nod encouragingly, reaching up and tentatively placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Do it.”

And he does. Surging forward, he connects your lips in a feverish kiss—he tastes faintly of mandarin on his tongue, sweet and bright and tangy all in one and you whine into his mouth as he leans over you, pressing your back into your mattress.

His lips move with yours desperately, his hands clutching at your sides and pulling you against him, his hips pushing yours into the mattress as he sucks on your bottom lip and groans sinfully. Your fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to you and parting your legs for him to settle between them.

He takes the invitation immediately, resting between your legs as his kisses grow needier and deeper, his tongue flicking against yours before he parts from you, propping himself up on his hands as he breathes heavily, looking down at you with that wild-eyed gaze from earlier.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your free hand gripping the front of his shirt as you try to pull him back down to you.

Shaking his head, he swallows thickly and says, “I think that if we keep going,” his tongue swiping over his lips, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“Who said I want you to stop?” You tilt your head to the side curiously, and he pauses, looking at you with a brow raised questioningly. He scans your face, you shooting him an expectant look and tugging on his shirt impatiently, before inhaling sharply and leaning back down to kiss you again.

“You are so—” he mumbles distractedly, kissing you fervently and nipping at your lip gently.

“So?” you press curiously, gasping when his lips trail down from yours to your jaw to your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.

“Dangerous,” he finishes, muffled from his ministrations on your neck, one hand squeezing your hip and gliding it up and down your side comfortingly. “Can we take this off?” he tugs at the hem of your sleep shirt, looking up at you hopefully.

“Yeah,” you agree, and he grins, pushing the shirt up past your chest. You sit up slightly so you can pull it off your torso, laughing when Haechan’s expectant smiling face reappears after the shirt’s done blocking your view.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Haechan,” you laugh, pulling him back to you with one hand as your other tosses your shirt off the bed.

“Have I ever told you that I love when you say my name?” Haechan’s lips resume kissing down your neck, sucking at a spot just above your collarbones.

“No,” you breathe, your inhale catching in your throat when his lips kiss lower to your chest, his hands pushing your breasts together and covering the exposed flesh in kisses. His tongue gliding in your cleavage, he sucks at a spot just above your bra, one hand slipping under you to unclip it.

“Love it so much,” he groans, pulling your bra off hurriedly and discarding it before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it slowly.

“Feels so good, Haechan,” you sigh happily, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks on the stiffened bud, one hand kneading your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue.

He pulls back from you slightly, using the tip of his tongue to flick at your nipple, his hand leaving your breast and snaking down your stomach to slip into your shorts. When his fingers graze your clit over your underwear, you whine lowly and rock your hips up into his hand.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Haechan mumbles around your breast with a grin, his middle and ring fingers tracing around your clit teasingly.

“Yeah,” you half-exhale, half-whimper, attempting to angle your hips just right so his fingers press against the sensitive button. He chuckles at your efforts and complies, pressing against your clit and rubbing circles into it.

The room is filled with the sounds of your labored breathing and small moans, as well as the wet noises of Haechan sucking on your nipples, switching between breasts by kissing along your chest.

Growing impatient, Haechan pushes his hand into your underwear, the palm of his hand pressing against your clit as two fingers tease your entrance. When you whine plaintively, he obliges, pushing the two digits into you slowly.

Your hips lift up off of the bed and push down towards his fingers, somehow both avoiding and leaning into his touch, and he tsks quietly in disapproval, guiding your hips back down onto the bed as his fingers keep pushing in until they’re buried inside of you.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, leaning up to kiss you deeply, his fingers curling as he pumps them in and out and gradually builds up a rhythm that has your breath coming in short gasps. “Feel so good around my fingers, baby.” Haechan coos sweetly, tongue trailing along your lip.

“Haechan, faster,” you urge, walls tightening around his fingers and making him hiss. “Go faster—”

“Like this?” he teases lightly, taking your bottom lip between his teeth gently and tugging it as his fingers speed up, fingers curling into a spot along your inner walls that makes you cry out weakly, clutching his arm to brace yourself. “Yeah, like that,” he mutters more so to himself, grinning and releasing your lip in favor of kissing your neck.

His fingers are skilled and controlled, but his kisses are nothing short of a frenzy, his mouth seeming to attempt to cover as much ground as possible and coax you over the edge. It’s working, frankly, as your peak approaches and you grind down on his palm pressed against your clit, the added sensation dizzying.

“So close,” you moan, biting your lip to muffle the noises you desperately want to let out, and Haechan nips sharply at your neck, making you wince and pull back to look at him.

“Wanna hear you,” he murmurs.

“But—my roommates—”

“I don’t care.” He grins at you mischievously, his pace speeding up and making wet noises sound out from where his fingers disappear into you.

“Haechan—oh, shit,” you shudder as your climax hits, whining his name loudly as pleasure floods through your body, ebbing and flowing like tidal waves. Your nails digging into his arm, he winces slightly but keeps finger-fucking you until you’re pushing his arm away in a desperate attempt to protect your sensitive clit. “Too much!”

“Aw, c’mon, you can give me another one,” he taunts, and you shake your head, wrapping your legs around him and pushing your hips up.

“If I’m cumming again,” you say slowly, making sure he hears you clearly, “it’s gonna be with you inside of me.”

He hesitates, eyes widening almost imperceptibly, and gapes at you.

“You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“God, you’re unreal.” he mumbles in awe, hurriedly kicking off his sweats. He curses when they get tangled by his ankles and you giggle, cupping his face to get his attention.

When his eyes are on yours, you smile reassuringly. “I’m right here,” you remind him. “I’m not gonna change my mind.”

“You’re not?” he asks, and you scoff in amusement, shaking your head.

“Not even if you take more than three seconds to take your pants off.”

He chuckles and nods, tugging them off and tossing them off of the side of the bed. “Your turn,” he says, staring pointedly at your shorts.

You lift your hips up and shimmy out of the shorts, chucking them in the same general direction Haechan threw his pants in. He doesn’t even let you pull off your underwear, shaking his head at you and instead pushing his boxers down to the middle of his thighs, his length slapping up against his stomach.

“Stop staring at my dick like that,” he mumbles shyly, and you shake your head slightly to snap yourself out of your daze. “I feel…scrutinized.”

“I’m appreciating it,” you assure him, and the unmistakable proud puffing of his chest makes you smile.

“Yeah?” he muses, leaning over you and guiding himself to your entrance, pushing your underwear to the side. You almost prefer this way, you think, something about the desperation laden in having sex with your clothes just barely shoved out of the way.

“Yeah,” you whisper, excitement creeping into your voice as he glides the shaft between your slick folds, collecting your arousal.

“Let’s see if you appreciate it more like this,” he breathes, pushing into you slowly, and your back arches as you inhale loudly. “Good?”

“So good,” you mumble, nodding encouragingly, and he licks his lips before bottoming out and groaning in pleasure. “Feels so full,” you say, and he nods, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“You’re so tight,” he grunts, pulling out slowly before pushing back into you quickly, eyes brightening at the moan you let out. He repeats the action, slowly moving inside of you and speeding up his thrusts until he’s built a rhythm that has little moans and whimpers spilling from you every time he bottoms out.

“God, yes,” you cry out, clutching his arm that’s propping him up by your head and turning your face towards it, biting down on his wrist to silence yourself.

“I wanna hear you,” he reminds you, shaking his hand until you release his wrist. “Every little sound you make—I want it.”

“Haechan,” you whine, and he growls softly in determination.

“That’s it, baby, just like that.” he encourages you, driving his hips into you in quick, powerful strokes.

You cup your breast with one hand, rolling your nipple between your fingers, and bring the other to your clit, rubbing it in quick circles that make your abdomen clench.

“God, that’s so hot,” Haechan mutters in awe, greedy eyes roving over your body admiringly as you pleasure yourself. “Want you to cum,” he urges, and you nod, your breath hitching.

“I’m close,” you confirm, and he hikes your leg up, resting it on his hip and angling himself towards it so his thrusts hit that spot along your walls that makes you see stars. “Yes, right there—”

“Right here?” His playful lilt drips confidence and only arouses you more, desire burning fiercely through you, an inferno blazing in your veins.

“Yeah,” you pant, whinier than ever as your desperation builds. “Right—fuck—” you hiss, your climax rushing to meet you and overpowering your senses. Your eyelids flutter shut and your mouth falls open, shaky breaths and broken moans of his name escaping you as his length pistons in and out of you quickly. Haechan doesn’t stop, keeping the same pace and power as your body stiffens before ultimately going limp.

“Good?” He rouses you from your daze, and you open your eyes to shoot him a dopey smile.

“Yeah,” you sigh blissfully, and he grins before leaning down so you’re nose to nose.

“My turn.” He thrusts into you even faster, the rhythmic sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room as you move to cover your mouth as hurried, frantic, and uncontrollable noises of pleasure leave you. “Look at you,” he coos, his words punctuated with each thrust. “Couldn’t be quiet even if you tried.”

“Hae—chan—” you stutter out, and he chuckles, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Music to my fucking ears.” His thrusts slow down as he groans with pleasure, his length throbbing inside of you as his pattern shifts to slower, more powerful snaps of his hips into yours. “Gonna cum—where do you—fuck—want it?”

“Inside,” you stammer, and he pulls back from your ear to look at you with unbridled excitement. “Cum inside.”

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me—” He climaxes without another word, biting down on your neck as he releases into you. His breath is hot against your flesh, moistening the skin as he digs his teeth into you and makes you whine in complaint, only releasing you in favor of sucking at the now sore spot.

His thrusts finally come to a stop, Haechan burying himself in you to the hilt as your walls clench around him, milking his orgasm for all it’s worth. Neither of you move for a while, just remaining in the moment with each other, before Haechan slowly pulls out of you and moves to lie on his back beside you.

Your walls clench around nothing, your face contorting in discomfort when a mix of your releases feels like it’s leaking out of you.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur softly, and he looks over at you worriedly, the concern fading when you shoot him a warm, reassuring smile. You squeeze his hand comfortingly and climb off of the bed, readjusting your underwear and pulling your shorts back on. You shuffle to the bathroom awkwardly, cleaning yourself up and washing your hands before returning to your room.

“Hey!” you complain when you return, looking at Haechan under your covers.

He looks at you in surprise, slightly worried. “Was I supposed to be leaving?”

“What? No—you’re laying on my side.” you explain, pointing at your pillow, and his shoulders slump in relief as he rolls his eyes slightly and shifts over to the other pillow.

“God, I thought you were having, like, post-nut clarity or something and wanted me to leave, never to be seen again.” he rambles, and you stop mid-stride, looking at him with your eyebrows raised in amusement.

“You’re ridiculous.” You continue your path to your bed, climbing under the covers and putting the bag of mandarins on your nightstand. “The only post-nut clarity realization I’m having is that I am sleepy.”

“Me too,” he sighs. “Be right back,” he says, climbing out of the bed and scooping up the mandarin rinds, tossing them in your garbage on his way out of the room. You curl up on your side as you wait for him to get back, smiling softly to yourself as you recall the events that just transpired.

Your light turns off, shrouding your room in darkness save for where the moonlight delicately peeks through your windows, and Haechan clambers back into the bed, lying behind you stiffly before muttering, “Fuck it,” and draping an arm over your stomach, snuggling up to you.

“Good night, Haechan,” you murmur softly, and he hums contently, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

“Good night.”

Waking up doesn’t quite go the way you usually expect.

Before you can even open your eyes, you feel an arm draped over your midsection and hear something—or someone—stirring slightly beside you.

In your just-woken-up foggy mindset, you try to recall what in the fresh hell is going on, only to be jolted out of your focus by the realization that you can quite literally feel the person beside you staring at you.

Peeking won’t do any good given that they’re literally looking dead at you, so you keep working on pushing away the grogginess clouding your sensibilities.

“I can tell you’re awake, y’know.”

Ah. Well, that solves that.

Opening one eye, you peek at Haechan, who’s watching you in fond amusement with his head propped up on his hand, elbow just beneath the pillow his head was just resting on.

“Good morning.” He sounds teasing, the greeting pointed as you realize you haven’t yet said anything.

“Morning,” you croak, and he chuckles, settling back down so he’s lying beside you.

You move to sit up and he whines immediately, pulling you back down none too gently.

“Don’t get up yet,” he murmurs, and you furrow your brows.

“Why not?”

“Give me a second and I’ll think of a really good reason.”

You let out an amused snort and comply, lying back down. You shift slightly so you’re fully on your back and Haechan takes the opportunity to move closer to you, letting out a soft content sigh as he rests his head on your shoulder. “You’re awfully cuddly.”

“I’m always cuddly,” Haechan counters, and you nod slowly.

“You’ve got a point,” you agree.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, instead starting to shift away from you as he says, “I can stop if you want—”

“No!” you protest immediately, clutching onto his arm resting on you. “I like it.” He pauses and looks back at you with a relieved smile before settling back into place.

“Good.” His arm tightening around you, Haechan’s head ducks down, nuzzling into the space between your chin and shoulder where he exhales softly against your neck, chuckling when you squirm under him.

“Mm, you like that?” he murmurs, sucking his teeth when you shake your head. “Sure, you don’t.” You can practically hear him rolling his eyes and, as if to prove his point, he presses his mouth to your skin in a lazy kiss, lips parting to suck gently.

Your breath hitches and he snickers, repeating the action over and over again, lips kissing and sucking with no restraint, lewd grunts leaving him as he positions himself to get better access to you.

When his tongue peeks out to lick the dewy patch of skin he’s been sucking on, you accidentally let out a choked whimper and he hesitates before pulling back and looking at you.

Averting your gaze, you can’t help but look sheepish under his probing stare, that knowing grin you’re so familiar with growing on his face in your peripheral vision.

“Did you just moan?”

“That was not a moan!”

“So you admit you made a noise.” He looks smug at your inadvertent confession, and you grumble indistinctly under your breath. “It’s okay if I turn you on, you know.” Haechan says with a sympathetic pat to your hip, cackling when you push him away with an embarrassed huff.

“You suck,” you mutter, and he ducks his head to press an obnoxiously loud and sloppy kiss to your neck. Your squeal of disgust rings out along with his laughter as he shuffles further down on the bed, pressing languid kisses to your body as he goes. “Where are you going?” you giggle when you feel his fingers inching up the hem of your shirt and his breath exhaling on your navel. “Haechan!” you yelp in alarm as his tongue dips into your belly button, reaching down to swat his head away.

His fingers are hooking in your shorts and yanking them down your legs before you can even process the situation, the blanket lifting slightly for his hand to fling them off the bed.

He catches your hand by the wrist and presses it down on the bed by your hip, dotting kisses just above the waistband of your underwear as you wriggle under him uselessly.

“Remember that reason I was gonna give you to stay in bed?” he murmurs, the warmth of his breathing causing arousal to stir in your belly. “This is it.” He doesn’t say anything else, instead kissing your clit over your underwear with a low content hum. Your thighs reflexively move to close him out, but he pins them in place, palms flat against your inner thighs as he spreads them wider.

He presses another kiss to your clothed clit—and another, and another, until the room is filled with the sounds of his noisy kisses and your unsteady breathing. His kisses travel lower until he’s kissing at the very seat of your underwear, teasing over your entrance as his nose rubs against your clit.

Your breath catches in your throat when his tongue flattens against the seat of your underwear, no doubt tasting the arousal that’s begun to seep through the fabric. His almost ticklish ministrations have your insides fluttering with need and nerves, his moans only escalating the situation as they get lower and longer, croaky with desire.

He drags his tongue up your underwear from your entrance to your clit, swirling his tongue around the gentle imprint of the sensitive button and sucking on it until your thighs start to tremble.

“Haechan, please,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to remain steady at a louder volume. He hums questioningly, flicking over your clit with the tip of his tongue rapidly and pushing your hips back down when they buck into his face.

“Please, what?” You can’t see him due to his being under the covers, but you can imagine the smug little grin on his face right now.

“Please don’t stop,” you whine, and he hums—loudly and contently—before pressing another kiss to your clit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” His fingers collect the fabric of your underwear just above your clit and tug it upwards, making you gasp in surprise. He tugs up harder until the thin fabric of the seat of your underwear scrunches together and slips between your lips, flesh spilling out onto either side of the damp, essentially useless garment.

Your moans escalate in pitch as he tugs the underwear up repeatedly, delivering pressure and friction to your clit that’s almost dizzying but just slightly not enough. His tongue drags up your now exposed lips, sucking them into his mouth and licking over them to coat them with his saliva, replacing the slick arousal leaking from your core.

“Haechan,” you whimper, truthfully unaware of what you want—you know you want more, and you know he’s going to give it to you, if not more for himself than for you, if his blissful sighing is anything to go by.

He doesn’t dignify you with a response, instead releasing your skin from his mouth and latching onto your inner thigh as he slowly kisses at the heated flesh, slowly pulling your underwear to the side to reveal your glistening core.

A sharp intake of breath sounds from under the covers, and before you can ask what’s happened, he groans and your clit is enveloped in his mouth as he sucks greedily at the bud.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, clutching at the bedsheets over where you know his head to be. The hand he’s been using to hold your wrist hostage slips down to link his fingers with yours in an intimate gesture that makes you glad he can’t see your unbelievably flustered face. “Fuck, just like that,” you urge quietly, and he responds by rolling his tongue over your clit, only releasing it to lap up the arousal coating your folds.

“Tastes so good,” he grunts, lips brushing against your throbbing clit as he speaks. “Such a pretty pussy, too, baby.”

Your only reply is a weak whimper as his tongue explores your core with an almost feral eagerness. He pauses, fingers slipping from yours as he uses both hands to yank your underwear as far down your legs as he can manage while still being between them, and resumes his fervent licking, digits linking with yours once more.

Tugging the hood of your clit back to expose more of the sensitive bud, he coos affectionately at the revealed button—an action that makes your cheeks burn from shyness—and flicks his tongue all over and around it before sucking it into his mouth and humming contently.

“You like that, yeah?” Haechan’s voice is throaty when he speaks, thick with desire as he practically slurs his words at you. “Like when I suck on your little clit like that?”

“Yeah,” you whine breathlessly, nodding vigorously even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, I like it—”

“Wanna feel my tongue in your pretty pussy, baby? Hm?” He’s practically taunting you, but you can’t even be bothered to care, your climax hovering just out of reach. “Wanna fuck yourself on my tongue?”

“Shut up, just please—” You don’t get to finish whatever thought you were going to vocalize, as Haechan’s tongue prodding at your entrance wipes your mind clear of any functionality. “Yes—more—need more—”

He licks all around your entrance first, loud and lewd noises of him lapping up your slick barely muffled by the barrier of the comforter, but finally obliges, pushing his pointed tongue into you as far as the pink muscle will allow.

The sigh of relief you let out is cathartic, the sound tapering off into an unmistakable moan as he urges your hips down towards his face. Taking the cue, you rock your hips into his face, movements jerky as his tongue glides in and out of you and renders you incapable of anything other than moaning and fucking onto him.

“Haechan, gonna—I’m gonna—” you moan, body shuddering with anticipation, and he just keeps guiding your hips against his face, not stopping even as your peak hits and your muscles stiffen reflexively, movements stuttering to a stop as you remain frozen, hips in the air and abdomen tightening. He smacks your ass lightly to get your attention and resumes your motions against his mouth, nose deliberately bumping against your highly sensitive clit. “Shit, Haechan, I’m done—”

Your weak attempts to wriggle away from him are only met with a forceful yanking of your body back into place and his tongue retracting from you in favor of licking at your clit. “I’m not,” Haechan mumbles determinedly, and the urgency in his voice makes you balk, your breath hitching again as he licks you to yet another climax.

When you come down from this high, your mind is fuzzy in the best of ways, your consciousness only distantly aware of Haechan emerging from under the covers and reassuming his position next to you with a pleased hum, pressing his spit and arousal slicked lips to your collarbone in a quick kiss.

“That was fun,” he coos, his nose brushing against your neck, and you chuckle weakly, nodding.

“It was more than fun.”

“Good. In that case,” Haechan muses, his arm tightening around you as he pulls you impossibly closer. He tangles his legs with yours, his knee pushing against your half-removed underwear, and continues, “I think I earned staying in bed with you for a bit longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you half-chuckle, half-exhale, and he grins, lips pressed against your neck.

“Good. Now go back to sleep,” he urges, and you’re about to attempt to oblige when a knock on your door jolts you both out of your daze. His eyes widening almost comically, he ducks his head back under the covers and you redistribute the comforter to look slightly less suspicious.

“Come in!” you call, and the door opens to reveal Mijoo leaning against your door frame. “Hey!”

“Good morning,” she greets you with a warm smile. “We’re ordering breakfast from the diner down the street; do you want anything?”

“Uh—the breakfast platter with waffles, please.” you answer, and she nods.

“Great. Hey, Haechan?” she calls, and you both stiffen before a sheepish Haechan pokes his head out from under the covers. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” he says eagerly, and you snort in amusement. “Can I have the breakfast platter with waffles, too?”

“You got it.” Mijoo raises two fingers to her head in a mock salute before moving to shut the door.

“Wait!” you whisper-shout after her, and she pauses, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. “How did you know Haechan was here?”

“His shoes are by the front door,” she answers simply, and your body slackens with relief. “You moaning his name also helped.”

“…Sorry.” you mumble sheepishly, and she shrugs.

“You’re lucky we were already awake.”

“We weren’t that loud!” Your brows furrow as you look at her defensively, and she snickers, shaking her head.

“You’re right; I’m just messing with you.” she smiles teasingly, and you huff, frowning at her petulantly. “Okay, gonna go order now.”

A small “hmph” is all you have to say, and she shuts the door, leaving you and Haechan alone with each other once more.

Looking over at you curiously, Haechan grins before leaning up to kiss between your eyebrows where the skin is furrowed, then your nose, and finally your lips, his mouth lingering against yours.

“You’re cute when you pout.” he mumbles fondly, and your cheeks blaze something fierce as you fight down a bashful smile. He pulls back slightly, studying your face before connecting your mouths again, this time parting his lips and sneaking his tongue into your mouth. The taste of your arousal transfers from his tongue to yours and you can’t help but whine from how arousing it is to taste yourself on someone else. “Don’t tempt me.” he mutters against your lips, and you nod in understanding.

“Sorry.” you say softly, and he chuckles before pressing a light kiss to your lips again and pulling back.

“It’s okay. Now, we only have so much more nap time before the food gets here,” he reminds you, collapsing back onto the bed and pulling you into his embrace, “so we’d better make the most of it.”

“Haechan, we can’t sleep now,” you point out, “we have to at least wash up and get dressed or something.”

“But—” he whines, and you kiss him quickly to shut him up.

It works.

“We can do all that and then, if there’s still time, we can come and get back in bed,” you suggest, and he screws his face up in thought. “It’s not like you’re gonna wanna get back in bed once we get up, anyway.”

“I’ll take that challenge!” He releases you and rolls out of the bed, miscalculating slightly as he falls on the floor with a thud and an “oof!”

“It wasn’t a challenge,” you reply, trying (and failing) to hold back your laughter as you peer over the edge of your bed at a disgruntled Haechan lying spread-eagled on his back.

“Stop laughing,” he gripes, reaching a hand out to you. “Help me up?” he asks hopefully, and you take his hand to pull him up, yelping in shock when he tugs hard and pulls you out of the bed and on top of him. “Oof!”

“Genius.” you drawl, and his hands just link behind you on the small of your back.

“Now, who’s laughing?” he points out, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Still me. You broke my fall.” you say with a snicker, and he hesitates before huffing in mild frustration.

“Well, maybe I should get a reward for being so gentlemanly.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Like a kiss.”

“Given that you’re the reason I even had a fall to break,” you answer, patting his chest, “I’m gonna pass.” His face falls as he frowns up at you, and you roll your eyes, leaning down and pressing the quickest of kisses to his cheek before standing up and pulling your (highly uncomfortable, now cold and damp) underwear back up your legs to retain whatever dignity you have left.

“Aw, I only get a cheek kiss for breaking your fall?” he complains as you pull him to his feet, and you stare at him, unimpressed.

“You’re the reason I fell!”

“Excuses, excuses, excuses,” he grumbles, waving you off dismissively. “We live in a cruel and unjust world.”

“That we do,” you agree. “Now go put some pants on.”

“I think they gave you more food than me,” Haechan sulks, and you look at his container, then yours, then back at his.

“They definitely did.” you agree, grinning.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t gloat.”

“But I love gloating,” you say with a frown. “It’s my third favorite thing to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan chuckles, looking over at you. “What’s the first?”

“Bragging.”

He snorts loudly. “Got it. Second?”

“Rubbing things in people’s faces.” You grin at him, and he raises one eyebrow. You suspect you’ve walked into a trap of some sort. “What?”

“I know something you could rub in my face.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your eyes widen as you smack his arm and turn away from him to hide your incredibly flustered face. “I’m kidding!” You peek over your shoulder at him to see his hands raised in surrender and you cautiously turn back to face forward. “Unless…”

“Haechan, get out!” you shriek, the warmth returning to your face as you wave him away frantically.

“No can do, sorry.” He shrugs in your peripheral vision. “I wanna see how cute you look all flustered.”

“Stop teasing me,” you huff.

“But I love teasing,” Haechan says, nudging your side pointedly as he throws your words back in your face. “It’s my third favorite thing to do.”

“I’m not gonna ask what the first two are,” you mumble, turning back to face forward when the heat in your cheeks has dissipated somewhat and you feel less flustered.

“Aw, c’mon,” he whines, shaking your arm. “Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

He takes a deep breath. “Please, please, please, please, please—”

“Oh, my God, fine!” you exclaim, lunging at him and clapping a hand over his mouth. “What are the first two things?” you ask, cautiously moving your hand. You move to sit back in your spot, but Haechan grabs your arm that’s propping you up above him, keeping you in place.

“Kissing you is second.” He looks up at you with bright eyes and you would scoff and disregard the comment if it didn’t seem so genuine, a bashful smile curling your lips.

“What’s first?” You blink down at him curiously.

“Hanging out with you.” He grins widely, and you open and close your mouth pointlessly, no words coming forth to rescue you from looking stupid. “Cute.” he coos, leaning up so you’re face to face. Studying your face carefully, his lips part slightly as he tilts his head to the side. Speaking softly, he asks, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Depends,” you answer, speaking just as softly. “Are you thinking about the fact that eggs don’t taste good cold?”

He gives you a disapproving look. “No, actually. Now I am.”

“Great,” you muse, pulling back and sitting in your spot once more. “Now eat so I can press play.” You gesture with your fork towards your laptop which is sitting just in front of you both, the screen paused on a scene from Chicken Little.

“I don’t know why we didn’t pick a Christmas movie to watch.” Haechan says with a small huff. “Where’s your holiday spirit?”

“We can watch a different movie,” you reply easily, gesturing towards the screen. “Just pick one.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he mutters triumphantly under his breath, pulling the laptop to his lap.

“Don’t get syrup on my laptop!” you scold, plucking his fork from his hand and putting it in his container of food.

“Sorry, babe,” he mumbles distractedly, too focused on browsing for a good movie to notice the pet name that slipped out.

You, however, are unoccupied and therefore fully aware of it, your body freezing momentarily. Your face heats up for what feels like the millionth time and you partially forget that there’s food in your mouth, your jaw hanging slightly open as you sit in a stunned silence.

“Found one!” Haechan announces proudly, placing your laptop back on the bed and looking over at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You okay?”

“Yep!” you agree way too quickly.

His eyes narrow. “That was way too quick.”

Damn it. “I’m okay,” you assure him, and he scrutinizes you for a moment longer before seeming to let it go and returning his attention to his food. Desperate to change the subject, you look at the screen and nod in approval. “The Grinch—nice choice.”

“Thank you,” he replies, smiling with satisfaction as he presses the spacebar to play the movie. You two eat in silence for a moment as the beginning credits roll, Haechan for some reason waiting until the movie actually starts to speak. “Oh, speaking of holiday spirit—”

“You couldn’t say this before the movie started?” You look at him in disbelief, and he frowns (very cutely, once again) at you. “Sorry,” you mutter. “Continue.”

“Thank you,” he replies, the smile back on his face. “We’re having a holiday party on Christmas, and you’re invited.”

“Me?” You point at yourself, confused, and he shoots you a funny look.

“No, the ghost slightly to your left.” He replies sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, Haechan letting out a small laugh. “Yes, you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, processing. “Can I bring Mijoo and Chuu?”

“Duh?” He shoots you another funny look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am!” you defend yourself, a bit too loudly for your tastes this time. “I am,” you repeat, sounding more normal. “You only invited me, so I figured—”

“Well, you’re the only other person in this room.” He points out, and you nod slowly.

“Fair.”

“I mean, I do want you to come—like, specifically you.” Haechan clarifies, and you look over at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s a good time to give you your present.”

“You got me a present?” you ask softly, surprised, and if he shoots you any more funny looks, you think you’ll throttle him. “I just didn’t expect it!”

“Why not?” He stares at you, confused. “You think I’d invite you to a Christmas party and not give you a Christmas present?”

“Good point, I guess.” you say mostly to yourself. “I can give you yours then, too.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, eyes sparkling with emotion. “You got me a present?”

You stare at him blankly, and he drops the act, looking at you pointedly.

“That’s how ridiculous you were just now.” He raises his eyebrows, and you gasp in disbelief.

“I didn’t moon over you, Haechan,” you defend yourself, and he shrugs.

“Maybe you should’ve. It would’ve been cute.” He grins at you, and you narrow your eyes. “Kidding!”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I am not.” Haechan confirms, shaking his head.

“Anyway,” you continue, side-eyeing him. “Will there be snacks?”

“Yep! The festive kind,” he says proudly. “Eggnog…gingerbread cookies…sugar cookies…”

“Peppermint bark?” you ask hopefully, and Haechan looks over at you with a small smile and a soft, fond look in his eyes.

“Why? Do you like peppermint bark?”

You suck your teeth, trying not to roll your eyes. “No, I actually can’t be within thirty yards of it for legal reasons—yes, I like peppermint bark!”

“Sassy pants.” he mutters under his breath. “If you like peppermint bark, then there will be peppermint bark.” He smiles at you, and you bounce twice in place from excitement.

“Yay! I’ll be there.” you assure him. “Do I have to get Jaemin and Renjun presents, too?”

“Nah, you don’t actually have to get anyone anything, actually. Just show up with good vibes.” He leans back against your headboard and smiles contently at you, unperturbed by your disapproving frown.

“Did you get Mijoo and Chuu anything?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “Mm, but I’m a guest…”

“And I’m a host, and I hereby absolve you of any gift-buying duties.” Haechan announces with an air of grandeur, waving his hand dramatically. You snort in amusement and he looks at you with a satisfied grin. “I got Renjun’s and Jaemin’s gifts already—gave myself a paper cut trying to wrap it.” He frowns, showing you his thumb with a red line running along the knuckle, and you wince.

“Poor Haechan.” You pout, and he nods, batting his lashes at you in a pronounced display of cuteness. “Wait right here.” You pat his knee and get off of the bed, heading to the bathroom and returning with a bandage.

“SpongeBob?” Haechan chuckles softly as you bring his hand onto your lap so you can apply the cartoon-themed bandage. “How old are you, again?”

“You can always leave,” you remind him in a warning tone, not looking up as you peel the backing strips off.

“I love SpongeBob, actually. Love that spongy guy.” Haechan says quickly, and you snicker quietly.

“Yeah, that’s more like it.” You wrap the bandage around his thumb and pat it gently for good measure, looking up at him. He’s staring at you with that unreadable look again, a soft smile on his lips, and you blink at him, confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quietly, looking down at your handiwork. “I think it needs something.”

“We have ointment if you want it, I just figured you didn’t need it because it’s a paper cut—” Your words stop abruptly when Haechan brings his thumb up to your face, level with your mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Kiss it,” he presses, wiggling the appendage in front of your face. “To help it heal.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Your voice is flat but incredulous, and he frowns at you.

“So you can suck on my fingers,” he starts, your eyes widening in shock, “but you can’t give my thumb a teeny little kiss to make it better?”

You stare at him. He matches your gaze with a smug little challenge glinting in his eyes. You lean forward and press a small kiss over the bandage where the small wound is, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“Feels better already,” he coos teasingly, and you scoff, trying and failing to hide your amusement.

“Okay, I’m gonna reheat my food and you’re gonna rewind the movie because we missed the whole beginning.” You get off the bed and Haechan offers you his container with a hopeful smile that only widens when you roll your eyes and take it from him.

“You’re the best!” He shouts as you head out of your room.

“I know!” you call back casually, doing an excellent job at hiding how the compliment makes you more than a bit giddy inside.

The day of the Christmas party has finally come, and you’re filled with nerves for some reason.

In the past couple of days leading up to the party, you and your friends have been wrapped up in work shifts, the holiday season bringing in extra high customer volume. It normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but this means you haven’t really had time to hang out with anyone, least of all Haechan.

And you miss him. You miss him more than you thought possible, miss his smile, his laugh, the twinkle in his eyes when he teases you—

It hits you when you’re walking home from work the day of the party: you really like Haechan. Like—a lot.

You already knew you were into him because, well, you can’t even think about him without feeling the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. It’s the gravity of your feelings that startle you.

More than kissing him, you like holding his hands and listening as he tells you the story of his crooked pinky for the millionth time.

More than sleeping with him, you like hanging out with him; no responsibilities, no expectations, no pressure, and you always leave feeling better than when you met up with him.

It’s this realization that has you hopping in the shower and dressing up slightly nicer before gathering your gifts in a tote bag—well, the ones you can fit, at least.

You knock on their front door and nibble your bottom lip gently before stopping abruptly, not wanting to do away with all of your lip balm before you even set foot in the party.

“Hey, you made it!” Jaemin cheers when he opens the door, and you can’t help but laugh at his joy.

“Yeah! Traffic was crazy in the fifteen feet between our front doors, but I made it,” you joke, following Jaemin into the living room. “Oh, I have your present!” You root through your bag before gently procuring his gift and handing it to him with a smile.

His eyes widen and he coos fondly, reaching for it and cupping it in his hands. “I may be an adult in many forms of the word, but I have a soft spot for stuffed animals and this? This is just about the cutest stuffed animal I’ve ever seen.” He cradles the white bunny plushie like an infant, humming contently, and you blink in surprise.

“I’m glad you love it, don’t get me wrong,” you say slowly, “but you seem a lot more excited than I expected.”

“I may have had some eggnog,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking at your raised eyebrows and the unanswered question still written plainly on your face and continuing on to say, “I heard a rumor that it’s spiked.”

“Who started that?” you ask, confused, and Jaemin rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

“Well, I did.” he answers. “Because I’m the one that spiked it.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding, patting his chest gently. “That’s nice, Jaemin. Have, um, you seen—”

“Haechan’s in the kitchen.” he answers with a knowing smile, clearly coherent enough to know where you were going with your sentence. Or maybe it’s just that obvious that you could only be looking for him.

“Great,” you exhale in relief, nodding once before heading towards the kitchen.

“I’ll give you your gift when it’s gift exchange time!” Jaemin calls after you, and your brows furrow.

“Would’ve been helpful to let me know there’s a gift exchange time.” You shake it off as you enter the kitchen and stop short as your eyes land on the person you were looking for.

Haechan’s back is facing you, hunched over as he fiddles with something you can’t see. There are a few other people in the kitchen, but they melt into the background as you clear your throat loudly, smiling when Haechan jolts in surprise before turning around to lock eyes with you.

You want to say that your heart didn’t skip a beat from seeing his face light up at the sight of you, but you’ve never been a very good liar. You offer a small wave in reply as he crosses the kitchen to get to you, barely having time to drop your arm before he’s pulling you into a tight hug.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Haechan pulls his head back slightly to grin at you. “I’m happy you made it.”

“Me too,” you say just loudly enough for him to hear, tucking your head back into the hug to hide the giddy smile overtaking your lips. Pulling away from the hug somewhat reluctantly, you take in his outfit and—“What are you wearing?”

Haechan looks down at his ugly—an understatement, really—Christmas sweater, obnoxiously vibrant and colorful with a gaudy reindeer on the front, stitched to be three-dimensional, and huffs petulantly. “I’m dressed for the festivities!”

“You look like the festivities threw up on your sweater.” you remark plainly, and he grumbles incoherently, wrinkling his nose in disapproval.

“Words hurt, you know.”

“You’re right,” you agree, raising your hands in surrender. “I am so sorry. How in the world shall I make it up to you?” Your robotic and wholly insincere delivery just makes Haechan narrow his eyes at you, a snicker escaping you as you avert your gaze.

“A kiss might help.” He raises an eyebrow expectantly, a smug twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know,” you mumble as you think about it—your friends and these other perfect strangers have never seen you kiss before, and you don’t know what the implications of such a public display of affection could be, and—

“You don’t have much of a choice, actually,” Haechan replies proudly, jerking his head towards the ceiling when you look at him in confusion.

You follow his direction with your eyes and there, hanging neatly from the ceiling’s smoke detector, is mistletoe.

You roll your eyes, pursing your lips in an attempt to hide the fond and amused smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. You grip the front of his hideous sweater and pull him closer to you, pressing the quickest of pecks to his lips you think you’ve ever placed.

His eyes barely get a chance to close before they’re flying open in surprise and he opens his mouth to complain, but you hold a finger up to silence him.

“That was a kiss.” you point out.

“A tiny one.” Haechan counters with a displeased frown, but one look down at your fist still holding his sweater makes him smile softly, apparently unable to maintain his dissatisfied appearance.

“I still did it.” You shrug, releasing his sweater and smoothing down the yarn you bunched up by accident. There really isn’t much of any way you could have made the sweater look worse by wrinkling it, truly, but it’s the gesture that counts.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, eyes darting to something over your shoulder before they widen slightly and he looks back at you. “You’re just in time for the gift exchange, actually. Do you want something to eat or drink before we go into the living room?”

“Sure,” you agree, and he leads you to the counter he was standing at when you came in. Your face lights up at a familiar snack as you reach your hand into the bowl and pull out a small fistful of individually wrapped chocolate pieces. “You got the peppermint bark!”

“That I did.” He smiles widely, clearly proud of himself, and you wrap your arm around his waist, squeezing gently. “Oh, and tip? Don’t drink the eggnog.”

“Yeah, Jaemin said he spiked it.” you snicker, and Haechan sucks his teeth.

“I knew it tasted funny.”

The gift exchange goes about as smoothly as you’d expect. Chuu’s very appreciative of her reading pillow and bedside lamp, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she opens the gift from you, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that Chuu got you one of the books you always mention that you’ve never quite gotten around to reading.

(“Now you don’t have any excuses,” Chuu says, smiling, and you nod slowly.

“I bet I’ll think of some more.”)

You’re thrilled when Mijoo gives you your gift, a full gel nail kit, and her expression no doubt matches yours when you take her back to the apartment to reveal her brand new mini skincare fridge.

(“I know this is for face masks and ampoules and the like, but—” Mijoo starts.

“You’re gonna put some snacks in it, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely gonna put some snacks in it.” She nods in agreement before you two laugh and head back to the party.)

“Hey,” Haechan calls softly from behind you, and you turn to face him, noticing in your peripheral vision that Mijoo and Chuu give each other a knowing look before disappearing into the party. “I wanna give you your present.”

“Yeah, me too.” you reply, feeling an anxious thrumming in your stomach out of nowhere. Will he like it? Does he even really want it?

“Over here,” Haechan says, taking your hand and leading you to a more secluded corner of the party where the holiday music somehow doesn’t quite seem to reach as well.

“Okay, how are we doing this?” you ask, reaching in your bag and pulling his gift out, holding it behind your back. “On three?” You brace yourself to reveal the gift only to panic and shake your head. “Never mind—I wanna go first.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, smiling at you with a delicate fondness you don’t often see from him.

“Okay, close your eyes and put your hand out.” you urge him, and he obliges, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he waits.

He looks so incredibly kissable right now, actually, you think. His lashes flutter delicately on his cheekbones and you can count each lovely little mole on his face without him making a teasing remark about how you’re mesmerized by him, and his lips look so soft and inviting—

“Hello?” Haechan laughs, and you blink out of your daze.

Right. Back on track. You swallow the lump in your throat and place his gift in his hand, clearing your throat nervously.

“You can open your eyes now.” You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet anxiously as he opens his eyes and looks down at his hand.

“No way,” he whispers, blinking down at the vinyl in his hand in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“I am not,” you chuckle nervously, and he looks up from the vinyl to you in awe.

“I thought you said the record store was sold out—” This is the softest you’ve ever heard him speak, you think, and it’s actually very endearing.

“I may have fibbed.” You shrug casually, and a surprised laugh escapes him as he turns the vinyl this way and that. “There was one left. I hid it so I could buy it for you, because I know you love Michael Jackson, and it’s limited edition and probably very cool for a Michael Jackson fan such as yourself to have—y’know—”

“You’re rambling, cutie.” Haechan cuts you off gently, amusement bright in his eyes as he watches you, and he definitely solved the problem of you talking too much, but the casual pet name has now rendered you mute. “Thank you so much,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes.

You manage to find the words to express yourself once more. “You really like it?”

“I fucking love it. I’m gonna display it in my room and brag about it whenever people come over.” He is most definitely not lying, you realize by the puff in his chest, and you bite back a giggle, feeling like a weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” you sigh in relief.

“My turn.” Haechan announces, gently setting the vinyl down on an armchair nearby and bringing his other hand from behind his back to hand you a small rectangular box. “It’s wrapped, so you gotta unwrap it.”

“I do think I’m aware of how wrapped presents work, yeah.” You can’t help but tease him lightly, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Be nice, I’m nervous,” he whines, and you coo sympathetically as you gingerly open the wrapping paper.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous—” Your lightly teasing words stop short when you lift the lid of the small white box and see the contents. “Oh, my God.”

“It’s, uh,” Haechan rushes to explain, gesturing at the box, “I got it custom made with these little, uh, mandarin charms,” he points at the small orange charms on the bracelet, “because we always eat mandarins together, y’know? Like, it’s kind of our thing.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Haechan, I love it.”

You can hear his exhale of relief and his body goes slack, finally relaxing in your side view. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can you put it on me?” You feel like you can’t raise your voice past this murmur for fear that it’ll shatter the delicate and intimate moment you two have built with each other.

“Yeah,” Haechan says immediately, a smile audible in his voice. You hand him the box and he lifts the bracelet out of its velvety encasing, the dim but warm lighting of the living room catching the bracelet and making it glint beautifully.

“This must have been expensive,” you worry, and he shakes his head.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures you. “Now that vinyl must have been crazy pricey—”

“It wasn’t too bad with the employee discount,” you half-lie; if it wasn’t for your employee discount and some serious sweet-talking to your favorite manager, you probably would have been living off of leftovers for a week or two.

“Gimme your wrist,” he murmurs quietly, and you comply, offering him your arm and watching as his hands fasten the clasp around your wrist. It looks stunning on your skin and you honestly can’t imagine taking it off anytime soon. “It looks beautiful on you,” Haechan compliments, and you laugh softly, shyly.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and you’re now very aware that Haechan’s gaze has shifted from your wrist to studying your face, his intent stare sending nervous jitters throughout your body even as you avoid it. Slowly, you drag your gaze up from your linked hands to meet his eyes, and you’re all but floored by the intensity in his stare, his gaze somehow both unreadable and perfectly easy to comprehend.

It’s a myriad of emotions—fondness, desire, determination, passion—all packed into one heavy-lidded stare as he wets his bottom lip. His fingers loop around your wrist, just below the bracelet, and he tugs you closer gently, coaxing you into his embrace as his free arm wraps around your waist.

Gazing into your eyes, he smiles secretively before looking up at the ceiling pointedly. When you look up, you already have a feeling about what you’re going to find, letting out a small laugh of disbelief when you see yet another mistletoe dangling from the ceiling.

“Did you plan this?” When you look back at him, his eyes are trained on your mouth and he leans in closer to you, his nose nudging against yours as his smile softens.

“Of course I did.” His words are a soft murmur against your lips before he’s kissing you, and the way he does makes your head spin.

His arm tightens around your waist and his other hand holds your chin, gently tilting your head towards him so he can kiss you better. His lips move slowly against yours, leisurely yet still intense as he hums contently.

You feel like you’re kissing him for the first time by your sink all over again, excitement trickling through you like the soapy water dripped down your arms that first time and the chatter in the background—even the faint whoops you hear that most likely mean you’ve been spotted—fading into nothingness.

There’s no one around that matters but you and Haechan, and you could probably live in this moment forever.

He gently separates from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as you both attempt to catch your breath.

“Haechan,” you murmur softly, “if you kiss me like that again, I’m gonna think you’re in love with me.” Your attempt to lighten the mood to steady your pounding heart goes unanswered, Haechan surprisingly silent. You look up at him curiously to see, with a jolt of surprise, that he’s already looking at you, his expression unreadable yet immediately comprehensible like earlier, but there’s a fire to it, a burning insistence that makes you swallow thickly. “Don’t joke like that.”

He regards you with a raised brow. “Who says I’m joking?” At your skeptical silence, he scoffs in amusement, squeezing your waist gently. “You have to know I’m, like, crazy about you by now.”

You gape at him. “Really?”

He gapes right back at you. “Yes!” he answers exasperatedly. “I went to Etsy for you,” Haechan sounds incredulous, continuing on even as you start to laugh, “I don’t think you know how confusing it was to order a charm bracelet with mandarin oranges on it? The shop people probably thought it was ridiculous.”

“No,” you console him immediately, draping your arms around his neck. “They probably thought it was very thoughtful, romantic, and sweet. Just like me.”

He looks up at you, hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Plus, it could be worse—you could have done all that just to get rejected or something.”

“So, I’m definitely not getting rejected right now, right?” He’s only half-joking, making you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“No, I’m definitely not rejecting you. Maybe I’m kinda crazy about you, too.” you admit with a small smile, and his face lights up, his smile one of the most radiant you’ve seen from him since meeting him. He studies your face, taking it in like it’s the last time he’ll ever see it, and you can practically feel the question on the tip of his tongue. “What is it?”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks, smiling like he knows something you don’t.

You nod slowly, offering him a wry smile as you say, “I’m in; we can have a night out on the town or something.”

“Yeah?” He sounds slightly surprised but thrilled nonetheless, and you nod, your smile widening.

“Yeah. Renjun gave me a $50 gift card to Home Depot, so I’m thinking things might get a little crazy.” you deadpan, and Haechan snorts loudly in amusement, his eyes widening like he didn’t expect to do it.

“Home Depot?” Bless his heart, Haechan does make an attempt to hide his amusement, but he gives up and bursts out laughing. “Why would he—”

“I don’t know.” You hold your hands up in surrender. “I gave him art supplies, nice and thoughtful, and he gave me a gift card to a store I’ve never even set foot in.”

“Y’know, there’s actually something kind of sexy about Home Depot.” Haechan hums, swaying the two of you from side to side. “Maybe it’s the smell of brand new appliances and stuff.”

“I can’t say I know what appliances smell like off the top of my head.” you say thoughtfully, and Haechan nods.

“Yeah, neither can I; I just said that to make you feel better.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” you coo sarcastically, pinching his cheek.

He swats your hand away with a laugh before saying, “Speaking of sweet—I just remembered to tell you that Jaemin loves his present.”

“Really? I mean, I kinda figured, what with the way he fawned over it when I gave it to him, but I’m glad to know he really likes it.”

“Yeah, I saw him clutching it as he threw up in the toilet.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What a lovely mental image.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles.

“Y’know, I really didn’t have much confidence in my gift-giving skills, but then I met Jaemin and Renjun. So, like, at least I know there’s worse out there.”

“What did Jaemin get you?” he laughs, his arms tightening around your waist.

You stare at him blankly. “A cookbook.”

Haechan’s confusion is palpable. “You don’t even cook like that—”

“I don’t even cook like that!” you agree emphatically, and he snickers.

“That’s awfully domestic of them, honestly.”

“Isn’t it? Are they hinting that I should start settling down or something?”

“Maybe they’re hinting that you’re wife material.”

“I’m pending “wife material” status; I need to learn to cook and navigate Home Depot, apparently.”

“Speaking of Home Depot,” Haechan pipes up, giving you a lingering kiss. “If we go to Home Depot, we can make out in the gardening aisle.”

You pull back just in time to snort in amusement. “How very romantic.”

“Listen, I’m trying to work with what we’ve got,” Haechan defends himself, and you roll your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you scratch gently at his scalp on the back of his neck.

“We could listen to your new vinyl in your room and make out in there,” you suggest, and he brightens up, nodding eagerly.

“What a good idea,” he agrees, tucking your head against him to hug you properly.

After a moment, you shift uncomfortably. “Haechan, is that your phone in your pocket or did all that Home Depot talk get you worked up?”

“What are you talking about?” His voice is muffled against your neck as he speaks, but you can hear his confusion regardless. “My phone is in my back pocket.”

“Haechan, don’t tell me you’re seriously chubbed up right now in the middle of this Christmas party.”

“First of all: please never say ‘chubbed up’ again.”

“Agreed.”

“Thank you,” Haechan sighs in relief. “Second of all, that’s my remote.”

It’s your turn to be confused, apparently. “Remote to what?”

Releasing you from his embrace, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a simple remote, pressing it, and you watch as his sweater starts to flash bright lights.

You’re silent for a moment. “I didn’t think it could get any worse.”

“Aw, come on!”

“No, I’m serious—it looks like the festivities threw up on you and now, apparently, they had some string lights in there too.”

Haechan pouts deeply. “Ah, you are so mean, seriously.”

“If we’re making out at all tonight, that hideous sweater comes off.” You point accusingly at the offensive garment, glaring at the wonky-eyed reindeer.

“No way.” Haechan disagrees immediately. “The reindeer sweater stays on during sex.”

“I will never sleep with you again.”

“On second thought, we could burn it. Burning it sounds good.”

“Baby, show me that last dance again,” Haechan urges you, jerking his chin at the open space of the living room you’ve been using as a makeshift dance floor.

You spring up from the couch, using a hand on his leg to brace yourself, and make your way to the middle of the room, taking a moment to recall the dance steps.

“It’s like this.” You hum a tune to yourself as you mime holding someone’s hand and their shoulder, swinging your hips as you move sideways, lifting your knee at the end before repeating the actions in the other direction. You look up at Haechan as you dance, immediately averting your gaze when you meet his eyes and take in his intense stare.

“And that’s the bachata?” he asks, raising his eyebrows curiously when you two lock eyes. You nod, and so does he. “You look good doing it.” He smiles and pushes off of the couch, taking the place of your invisible dance partner. Placing your hand on his shoulder, he rests his on your waist, lacing your fingers with his own and tugging you closer. “Dance with me now.”

“You got it?” you ask in surprise, and he nods.

“Quick learner.” he explains, smiling. He’s not wrong, you realize as you hum your little song and lead him into the dance. He moves smoothly and attractively, his steps confident but not too serious.

“You’re good,” you murmur in surprise, and he chuckles.

“I have a good teacher.” When you’ve completed two sequences from one side to the other, he twirls you, laughing when you yelp in surprise and clutch onto him tightly. “You’re not gonna fall, baby.”

“I know,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I trust you.”

“You trust me?” Haechan’s voice is soft, his fingers just as gentle as his tone as they stroke at your back, and you nod, knowing he can feel it as opposed to see it. “Then close your eyes.”

You move back so he can see when you comply, and he grips you a bit tighter, turning you to the side and dipping you, his laugh ringing out with yours as you burst into tickled giggles.

“See? I trust you.” You still don’t open your eyes as you speak, the inaction triggering a jolt of surprise when his nose brushes against yours.

His lips connect with yours soon after, nudging them apart to kiss you sweetly. He stands you both upright once more and wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you in closer with a hum and tugging gently on your bottom lip.

He peppers kisses down to your neck where they slow down, growing languid and needy as he latches onto various spots of your neck and sucks gently.

“That tickles,” you giggle, squirming away, but he just locks his arm around you, holding you firmly in place as he continues to attack your neck. “Haechan,” you whine pleadingly, and he groans against your skin.

“Mm, yeah, love when you say my name like that.” He nips at your flesh, lapping his tongue over the sore spot in a wordless apology.

“Haechan!” You attempt to scold him, but the pleasure gets to you, his name coming out even needier than before.

“Just like that, baby.” he grunts, sucking harder at a spot near the base of your neck that, despite your conscious desires, has you tipping your head back to allow him better access. “See? You love it.” His free hand trails down your backside, hiking up your shirt to grab your ass, clad only in black lacy underwear.

You’ve essentially given up on getting him to stop, finally succumbing to your desires and pushing your hips into his. He chuckles, the sound low in his throat and undeniably smug, and backs towards the couch, releasing you and plopping down on the seat.

He pats his lap with an inviting wiggle of his brows, his grin widening when you take the invitation and sit sideways on his lap, leaning your side against his chest.

“Where was I?” he murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and making a determined path to your neck. You wiggle away at the last minute and press your lips to his before he can inevitably protest. His complaining whine abruptly changes to a pleased humming sound as he kisses you over and over (and over) again, alternating between quick, soft kisses and lingering, needier ones.

His hand slides up your thigh purposefully, moving between your legs and hiking up the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He grins against your lips when you part your legs slightly, allowing him to stroke along your inner thighs.

“Your skin feels so soft,” he murmurs against your lips, “and your kisses taste so sweet—I’m in heaven.”

“You’re so dramatic.” you snicker, and he shakes his head, parting from the kiss to look at you with bright, earnest eyes.

“I’m serious,” he promises, his gaze dropping to where his hand disappears between your legs. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Well, unfortunately,” you murmur, tugging gently at the locks on the nape of his neck and smiling when he groans, “I can only keep Mijoo and Chuu away from the apartment for so long.”

“What are we gonna do when they come back?” He frowns up at you, resting his chin on your breast.

He really needs to stop being so damn cute, you think.

“Well, we can just go in my room.” you offer, and he nods, lost in thought.

“Are they coming back soon? Should you,” he sighs deeply as if he already regrets the next words out of his mouth, “put some pants on?”

You can’t help but laugh at how resistant he is to the thought of you wearing more clothes before you stand up, moving back to the center of the room and twirling once.

“Mijoo and Chuu have already seen me like this, anyway,” you inform him, gesturing at your attire, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, beckoning you closer. When you’re within reach, he laces his fingers with yours and pulls you towards him until you’re landing clumsily on his lap once more with a yelp. “Well, aren’t they lucky?” He adjusts you so your knees are on the couch on either side of him, your hips hovering above his lap ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t say lucky,” you chuckle, and he shakes his head, scrutinizing your face.

“Do they get to see you reaching for stuff in the cabinets with this on?” Haechan asks, his hands running up the backs of your thighs. “Hm? Do they get to see your shirt ride up and show off your cute little ass?”

You hesitate, slightly uncomfortable with the thought of flashing your friends and roommates. “If they have, I’m pretty sure—and kinda hoping, at this point—they’re not actually looking.”

“Do they get to see you bend over as you look in the fridge for something to snack on?” he continues, and you grimace, shaking your head.

“I don’t even do that—oh—” Your vehement protesting ends abruptly when he grabs your ass with both hands, using his grip to pull you forward until your chest is clumsily landing against his.

“No, they don’t get to see that, right?” he murmurs, looking up at you with desire pooled plainly in his eyes. “Only I get to see my girl like that.”

You could just about melt from the pet name. “Yeah,” you agree breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum in a daze.

“Only me?” he presses, hands pushing your shirt up past your stomach and over your breasts, now exposing your matching lacy black lingerie.

“Only you,” you confirm, the needy whine creeping back into your voice. “Haechan, touch me.”

“My baby wants me to touch her?” he asks softly, teasing you with the promise of a kiss but not delivering. His breath is warm on your lips as he taunts you and he’s all but inhaling your plaintive cries for attention, his eyes growing more wild and intense the more you quietly plead for him.

“Please, Haechan?” To your embarrassment, your voice cracks slightly towards the end of the word, but it seems to trigger something in Haechan, who lets out a groan from deep in his chest before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heated kiss.

“Could never say no to my girl,” he coos against your lips, punctuating each word with a kiss deeper than the one preceding it. “Let’s take this off, baby.” His hand hurriedly yanks at the material of your shirt that’s bunched up above your breasts, and you break from the kiss to pull it off, barely having time to drop it on the couch before he’s hungrily kissing all over the exposed skin of your chest.

You already know what he’s going after next, so you beat him to the punch, unclipping your bra and letting the straps fall off your shoulders. Haechan lets out a loud groan of approval, his kisses barely hesitating before dipping lower until his tongue is rolling over and swirling around your nipple. His hands fly to cup both of your breasts as he alternates between sucking at both of your nipples, and you suck in a sharp breath when his fingers pinch at the hardened bud, tweaking it teasingly.

As he loses himself in your breasts, you can’t help but rock your hips down onto his lap, the thin fabric covering your clit doing virtually nothing to conceal the sensation of his cock pressing against your core through his sweats. You stutter out a gasp, and he chuckles mockingly, releasing your nipple with a wet pop and regarding you carefully.

“That feel good?” he asks, mimicking you when you nod. “Yeah? Feels good to fuck yourself against my cock?”

Your only response is a whimper and a rasp of his name that has his eyes blazing with lust.

“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you?” he taunts, and you cry out weakly, your head dropping down to rest your forehead against his. “Can you cum like this? Just like this?” His mocking tone softens slightly, and when you nod, he hisses, bucking his hips up to collide with your body, groaning, “I love seeing you like this—so fucking gorgeous like this—no one gets to see this but me—”

“Only you,” you moan desperately, willing to say just about anything if it means you get to cum.

“All mine,” he growls under his breath, tilting his head up to kiss you fiercely. “I’m all yours, and you’re all fucking mine, yeah?”

“Yes, baby—Haechan, I wanna cum so bad,” you gasp, and he nods, releasing your breasts and grabbing your hips, guiding your rocking motions until that delightfully familiar tightening feeling starts building in your abdomen. “Fuck, just like that,” you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, his only protection the thin shirt he’s wearing.

“Kiss me when you cum,” he pants, and you oblige, leaning forward and connecting your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss. He’s positively frenzied, biting roughly at your bottom lip until you wince and sucking on your tongue, not relenting even when you attempt to retract it to moan his name.

Your poor tongue is trapped between his greedy lips as he sucks hard on it, only giving you a slight break when he swirls his tongue around yours with a lewd moan escaping him as saliva—you can’t really tell whose it is—drips down from your bottom lip onto your chest.

He’s all over you, dominating your mouth with his, your breasts with his hands, your core with his length, and your mind is so blank that you don’t even notice when one of his hands travels south to slip into your underwear, only catching on when his fingers press against your clit roughly.

“Oh, sh—” you gasp as he rubs the sensitive bud vigorously, heavy-handed touches sending you toppling over the edge. To your surprise, tears well up in your eyes, the pleasure almost too much to bear, and Haechan coos sweetly when they start to spill, pulling back from the intense lip lock to kiss up your tear tracks, capturing your lips with his own tear-smeared mouth, lips wet and salty as he moves them against yours.

“Up,” he croaks, tugging you up off of his lap slightly, and you oblige, lifting up off of him enough for him to shove his pants down to his knees and pull himself out of his boxers, rapidly fucking his fist as he stares at your underwear, the very last article of clothing covering your body. “Sit, baby.” he urges, guiding you down.

He gropes freely at your asscheeks with one hand as his other, wrapped around the base of his length, brings the thick head of his shaft to your entrance. You pull your underwear to the side to allow him entry, and he pushes up into you as you sit down onto him, both of you letting out groans of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he moans, “sit on my fucking cock just like that.”

“So full,” you babble, gasping as he bottoms out, “so fucking full.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos comfortingly, “you can take it all, yeah?”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, but it’s not like you were planning on backing out, anyway.

In lieu of a response, you lift your hips and bring them back down onto him, Haechan winding his fingers in the locks at the nape of your neck and yanking so your head is forced back. You whimper loudly at the tug and moan louder when his tongue drags up from the top of your cleavage to your chin, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake.

“Obsessed with how you taste,” he grunts, barely parting from your neck as he sucks and nibbles at your skin and making loud and wet noises every time his lips release a patch of flesh. “Gonna eat your pretty pussy later, too—”

“Fuck,” you hiss, his words affecting you more than you expected. You position yourself slightly so you can bounce up and down on his length, your mind all but falling apart at the feeling of his thick shaft stretching you open.

He trails wet kisses back down to your chest, cupping your breasts and sucking on your nipples greedily, switching between the two like he can barely get enough. When he nips one of them a bit sharper than you’re prepared for, you cry out weakly, pushing at his head as a warning.

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this—” he grunts, thrusting upwards to meet your movements so you’re simultaneously fucking onto and into each other. “No one else gets to hear the pretty fuckin’ noises you make when I fuck you—no one gets to make you feel this good but me—”

“Just you, babe—” Your words are undoubtedly slurred from pleasure, but by the way Haechan’s thrusts speed up, you’re willing to bet he heard you. “Feels so good—wanna cum so bad—”

“Feels good?” Haechan echoes mindlessly, biting down on the flesh of your breast. “You love this, don’t you? Love me fucking you with my thick cock?”

“Love your cock so much—fuck, Haechan—I’m gonna—” You can barely get the words out before Haechan’s kissing you deeply, a filthy mess of teeth and tongue as his hips fuck up into yours.

“Cum all over me, baby, want you to make a mess all over me,” Haechan grunts, and you do. You climax loudly and powerfully, and Haechan’s thrusts continue the whole time, prolonging and heightening your pleasure until you’re shaking your head and squirming away from the hypersensitivity.

“Haechan, cum inside me,” you moan plaintively, still in a daze, and he nods distractedly, sloppily kissing every inch of your skin he can reach as he speeds up his thrusts and curses under his breath.

“Cumming—” He’s barely able to choke out the last syllable before he’s burying himself in you to the hilt, his breathing ragged as he finishes inside of you. You affectionately rake your fingers through his hair as he recovers, his forehead resting against your chest. When he’s collected himself, he catches your wrist and presses a kiss to your palm, looking up at you with a lazy smile.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, y’know that?” you mumble in amusement, and he grins mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Of course I do—and you love it,” he chuckles, and you roll your eyes slightly, shifting in his lap and cringing at how cool your chest feels. You look down and can’t help but widen your eyes at the state of your chest.

It’s, to put it lightly, covered in saliva, and you’re almost positive it’s entirely Haechan’s doing. When you look back up at him, you see him looking right where you just were, his lips parted slightly in what you assume is awe.

“You really do have quite a mouth,” you snort, pushing his jaw up so said mouth closes. “A messy, sloppy, dirty one.”

He looks up at you finally and you’re surprised to see that the look on his face wasn’t awe at his messiness but unbridled desire. He grins up at you smugly, making loud kissing noises.

“If I recall correctly, you weren’t complaining when my messy, sloppy, dirty mouth was all over you earlier,” he points out as he squishes you to his body, your breasts pressing against his face. He nuzzles into your cleavage, pressing a wet kiss to the skin, and you groan and push his head away with a laugh.

“Whatever,” you say, attempting to sound grouchy but ultimately failing as the smile on your face is too wide. “I need to shower.”

“Fine,” he sighs loudly, releasing you, and you stand up, making a face as his mostly softened length slips out of you. “On one condition.”

“It’s my shower, Haechan,” you point out. “What condition could you possibly have?”

“I get to join you.” He beams at you hopefully, nodding encouragingly in an attempt to convince you.

“I was already gonna say you’re coming with me,” you say, stooping to pick up your discarded clothing. “That way we’ll both be all cleaned up by the time Mijoo and Chuu come back.”

“Sounds good to me,” Haechan agrees, standing up and tucking himself back into his clothing. “Lead the way, baby.”

When you turn and head towards the bathroom, a quick smack to your ass makes you yelp before turning to glare at your cheekily grinning boyfriend.

“Haechan!”

“If I apologized, I’d be lying.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and you narrow your eyes at him before turning back around.

“You’re a menace.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he sing-songs, blowing you a loud kiss from behind. Thankfully, he can’t see the giddy smile on your face or feel the heat rising to your cheeks, so you just remain silent and think about how nice it is to be “stuck” with someone like Haechan.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you tease, turning to face him as you step into the bathroom and shut the door in his face.

“Hey!” Haechan exclaims, indignant as he jiggles the doorknob. “You’re in for it now, you know that, right? You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

“I know!” you call back, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter.

Frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

ta da !!! i hope you enjoyed :) happy new year!

#haechan smut #nct smut #lee haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game.

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry.

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you.

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat.

Once again, you’re filled with Joel.

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone.

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs.

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

TAGLIST: @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @daydreamerblues @spacelatinos4life @totallynotastanacc @honeycovered-bandaids @daddy-din @cedricbitch @tiredbuthappy @sweetpea99 @ghostfanwriter @daixylie @witchy-jadda @ninebluehearts @jbcalway @jasminedragoon @inkedells @ayehomo @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett

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Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

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