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on-leatheredwings · 2 months

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False Pretenses (18+)

Yandere ! Damian Wayne x (Fem) Reader

romantic, 18+ > summary: Damian needs an heir someday, and he knows your body can provide that. > tw/cw: stealthing/baby trapping. there is consensual sex under false pretenses, so this could (and should) make this fall under dub- or non-con! there is also a brief mention of somnophilia. Plus, some breeding kink, praise kink. Also some weird thoughts about (cis) women who are fertile being ‘ideal’ and a preference for biological children. Just a warning. > word count: 5088. jesus christ. > [a/n: (smokes a blunt). ] > again 18+ only, damian wayne is 21

So, Damian has a breeding kink.

You sit in bed (his bed), knees to your chest, trying not to smile.

The covers are wrapped around your bare body as you recall the night prior’s events.

Last night was the farthest you two have gone physically. You’ve made out, of course. That was in short order after officially becoming a couple, the both of you starved for the other. You’ve groped each other, both over and under your clothes… You’ve given him a handjob… (To his utter dismay that you’ve brought him to orgasm first rather than the reverse.) And last week, you took him in your mouth for the first time. But yesterday night was the first time you had been on the receiving end.

Now, you are no virgin, but the memory does make you clutch your metaphorical pearls. You didn’t know simple fingering could be so… perverse.

Damian’s two middle fingers are thrusting back and forth into your trembling cunt. Your ears are steaming at the resulting noises filling the air. They’re lewd, and entirely involuntary on your part. Sweat on your temple drips, your torso heaves with shaken breath. Your damp back lies flush against his hard chest, two perfect puzzle pieces. Damien’s chin rests on your shoulder, allowing him to have a beautiful view of the mess you’re making on his slender digits. Viridian eyes have their entire focus on you, utterly fascinated.

The look in them is enough to make you blush, even if two of his fingers weren’t in you right now.

Sinful, reverent whispers into the shell of your ear marvel about how well you’re doing, how prepared you’ll be to take him afterwards. Damian’s free hand rests on your abdomen, pointedly over your womb.

He’ll fill you. Breed you. After all, you can handle that. You were basically made for it. He knows you’d be perfect at it.

Chin resting on the palm of your hand, you come back to the present.

Yeah, that was really turning him on, you mull, with almost academic interest. Your lips curl into a catlike grin. How curious!

Hey, you aren’t judging! You can see the appeal. After all, you hadn’t exactly been complaining last night… just caught off guard.

You sit with your thoughts as Damian washes up in his restroom.

It is in his bedroom you currently lounge, absentmindedly fiddling with satin sheets. His bed is large enough to drown in. His room is a wash of dark emerald greens and deep blues, with golden accents. On a table sits a sheathed sword, its grip a beautiful gold.

Both of you are college students finishing up your last semester. During the school season, Damian stays in his penthouse. Yes, his penthouse. Why he couldn’t just stay at his billionaire father’s mansion, you don’t know. Bird has to leave the nest sometime, you suppose.

Slowly lowering your knees and letting your back hit cool sheets, you lie down. You get lost in the ceiling – a beautiful Arabesque pattern is subtly molded across its expanse. Damian’s culture is so cool. Such was a sentiment you had communicated in such words, and he simply kissed your knuckles with a proud curve of his lips, and thanked you for the compliment. You blush.

Ugh. Damian is so cool.

You start pulling up every uncool thing about him in your mental reservoir. You can’t have him getting a big head, after all. Or rather, can’t have his head getting any bigger.

Hmm… breeding kinkster, breeding kinkster, thy name is Damian Wayne.

You blink dumbly.

Breeding... breeding…

Pregnancy.

Your body stiffens.

Wait. Does this… does that mean something? Is that like. A thing? What people call foreshadowing? You sit up, disturbed.

At that exact moment, Damian saunters out of the washroom. His eyes catch yours immediately, as if drawn by magnetism. He is still shirtless, navy blue sweatpants looking entirely artful on his tall, bronze body. His usual shrewd expression relaxes at the sight of you.

At the sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and not out of admiration for his looks. It was like you had been caught red-handed, speculating things. Sometimes you swear he knows what you’re thinking.

He stalks toward you, eyes loving. He places a kiss on your lips, punctuating it with “Good morning, my love.”

“G-good morning,” you return, painfully aware of your nakedness under his sheets. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He places kisses on your bare shoulder, trailing down until he’s kissing your hand. While normally you’d be melting, you remain stiff.

Damian pecks one last kiss when you blurt, “Do you want kids?”

You inwardly smack your forehead. Well, you weren’t one to shy away from a tough conversation. For better or worse.

Damian stirs, blinking at you.

You continue, trying not to wilt, “Do… Do you want kids? I-is that something you want? Like, someday?”

How the hell did this not come up sooner, you don’t know.

… Well.

Perhaps it hadn’t come up because your relationship was fairly new. You’ve known Damian for five years now. And for the last two, your relationship had been under a taxing, soul-sucking ‘will-they-won’t-they-it’s-complicated’ vague denomination for quite a while. Both of you knew each of you had feelings for the other. But Damian confessing his vigilante secret and his assassin past was quite the double whammy.

Damian was resolute in keeping you and himself safe and alive, but you had to think critically about a future with him. Eventually you said fuck it, throwing caution to the wind because you loved him, and you wanted him. And he, you.

Officially, it’s only been three months of dating – and you both are young. You both are in your last year of college. Talking about kids felt … fast.

Damian remains silent, face tentative. Having been leaning over you, he now sits on his bed, looking thoughtful.

“... Is that something you want?”

You sigh. Of course he’d turn it on you.

“I…” Your throat feels tight. God, why can’t we just enjoy a damn honeymoon phase… “I mean…? I’m… open to it. But yeah, it seems kinda… Like. I don’t know. That’s a lot right now.” Your voice is uncharacteristically small and meek.

You should stop there. Keep it vague. Keep things light. But you know which side of the fence you’re leaning on, and so should he.

“A-and you know– like, you know I didn’t have a good relationship with my mother– I just. Don’t know. If ever. I guess?”

You sit in awkward silence with him. You pray God just decides to smite you where you sit, because Christ. That was horrible.

Things like this could break a relationship, you know. And your chest clenches painfully at the thought of separating from Damian.

Damian takes in your words, nodding. He’s usually so easy to read – you’re well-versed in Wayne-nese by now, having spent a lot of time with him and the rest of his family. But he seems to be withholding his inner thoughts intentionally from you. Your heart sinks.

You nudge him with your feet.

“Damiii. Do you?”

Damian’s eyes glimmer with characteristic haughtiness, instantly making you warm. He crawls forward, hands sinking into the bed by your hips. He nips at your nose before locking lips. It’s a sweet, sweet kiss that’s like candy, until you feel the stroke of his hot tongue. You moan freely, not caring that he’ll likely tease you later for being so easy.

He retreats, licks his lips.

“You fiend,” you blurt. The insult rolls off him.

“What I want is to be with you.” You swallow dryly, heart thumping like a chorus line. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian could see literal hearts in your eyes.

He puts a hand on your knee, stroking softly. You feel mollified at the action. Damian only did that when everything was alright.

“We’ve got class. If you get dressed fast enough, I’ll buy you that confectionary you’re always wanting.”

You stick out your tongue. “It’s a frappe,” you say, adding before he could say otherwise, “and yes, it is real coffee.”

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. Damian indeed sketched, as he did everyday. Unsurprisingly, you were the subject, along with your favorite flowers. But Damian chose his study, rather than drawing you from life, because he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. He opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder that spends most of its time laid in hiding underneath.

…

So, for the record, Damian did not lie.

He merely obfuscated an answer with a truth.

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that.

… A not-insignificant part of him quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood-related. He’d never express this to anyone. His brothers are adopted, so how could he? But instilled from infancy into Damian was that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals.

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him, both of whom are also two perfect beings? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

When opened, inside the folder is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. Some days are blank. Some are highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window.

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. Not that he asks anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.”

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one – his One – he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake, and you were out like a light within minutes. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a specimen from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision – Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He recalls this with pride. As expected, you were perfect in all things. Damian closes the folder and ruminates in his seat.

Damian had assumed so, but now you’ve confirmed with him that you’re unsure about raising children based on your history with your own family. He hears you. As if he doesn’t have his own slew of mommy problems. If you bring it up again, he’ll wave you off. You’ll be an amazing mother. You just need a push, and you’ll be confident soon enough.

His fingers steeple. Hm… There’s the issue of having children before marriage… He doesn’t know how you feel about children outside of wedlock, but it’s not as though you’re very traditional. You don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that’s how he was conceived. It’s not a big concern regardless, because Damian is going to marry you anyway. If it’s an issue, you both could marry in as soon as a month.

It all works out.

It’s perfect, he thinks.

Damian puts up his sketchbook and folder alike, heading to his bedroom to change. It was about time he put his plans into action, and he knows just how to usher it into fruition.

“That doesn’t look like a very satisfying read,” Damian says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

You don’t look up from your book, your cringing face only deepening.

“Well, that’s because it isn’t. I was lied to! By my favorite Youtuber! By BookTok! And fuck it, by the government–”

"My love."

“You ask for one slow burn rivals-to-lovers and instead you get him fawning over her within three chapters–”

“My love,” he repeats, though amused.

“And let’s not even start about how this prose is abysmal–”

“My love.”

Since it was said oh-so-sweetly, you look up from your book.

Damian is... oh. He's in that outfit he knows you like. The League of Assassins one that's sleeveless, dark, and form fitting with gorgeous gold trim. It turns his body into a marvelous painting of black and gold on the tanned backdrop that is his skin. And you’ve told him so… Except his eyes. His beautiful, intense green eyes. He straightens from how he leans against the wall, stepping closer.

You toss your book, not even watching its trajectory. It takes out a vase on the way down and you still don’t spare it a glance.

"Damian Wayyyyyne," you sing, hopping up to stalk toward your prey. Your hands land on his chest. Hello, tig ol' biddies, you cheer internally. It takes considerable restraint to keep from saying it aloud – you know Damian gets all flustered with his delicate sensibilities. “Why, are you trying to seduce me?”

An elegant, thick brow rises in amusement. Well, that was exceedingly easier than expected.

“That depends entirely on whether it’s working.”

“Oh, it’s working,” you say, running your hands down to his abdomen. His hands rise to capture yours.

“Tt.”

Damian takes steps backward, leading you by the hands into his bedroom. Your leer grows even bigger. Oh, yes. You two lock eyes the whole while until you reach the foot of his bed, merriment and attraction dancing in both pairs.

You push him onto the bed, on all fours above him. You dive down for a deep kiss, tongue eager for a dance. Eventually it’s you who separates to breathe, panting lightly. The sight below you is one for sore eyes, Damian Wayne lying with eyes glazed with lust. He’s acting awfully agreeable, and you can’t say you don’t like it.

“Habibti, I want you.” Damian slides his hand to cup your crotch. You shiver, at his touch and his words.

“And you have me,” you say, voice warm. “Habibti.”

He smirks, probably thinking your accent could use some work.

“It’s Habibi, coming from you.”

You nod shyly, but you can have a lesson later. You’re about to slip off your pants when he brings your hand in between your bodies, placing it on his crotch. You sharply inhale. He’s hard, and straining against sinful, elastic tights.

“... And I mean, I want all of you.”

Your brows rise. So, he wanted to go all the way today? You feel your cheeks and crotch flood with heat. You find it easier to nod your head rapidly, lest you start barking. At your agreement, Damian’s face washes over with anticipation. You’re glad it’s not just you over the moon at the prospect.

You both rip your clothes off manically, laughing and elbows butting into each other’s sides. Damian expertly flips positions, boxing you in with his knees. You exclaim in surprise, a sound that drifts into shaky breaths and mewls of pleasure as he runs his fingers over your breasts, your stomach… He wets his fingers with his mouth before his digits start circling your clitoris.

You inhale sharply, mesmerized by the cyclical motion. Never until Damian has sex felt so flustering. Just watching his administrations was overwhelming, let alone the feeling– Your head reels back from an electric shock of pleasure. You gasp into the air.

"W-wait... wait, you have a condom, right…?" you whisper, though you have half a mind to just go without. You need him.

Damian tensed.

"I... I don't like how it feels." You raise a brow. You've heard condoms can feel like a second skin, especially nowadays. Then again, men were always complaining about them. It's not like you had the necessary equipment to confirm, so hell if you knew how it felt.

You place your hands on his cheeks, and his hands ghost over your wrists. You bite your lip.

"Well… Just this once? And if... it's that important to you, maybe I'll get on birth control–"

His head jerks as if struck, his brows furrowed.

“No.”

You stare, agape. There’s a small pause, both of you staring at the other. Damian’s face looks as though he’s betrayed himself. Your boyfriend didn’t strike you as so… traditionalist, to say the least. Lord knows you wouldn’t be with him if he was… so you will hear him out before nurturing any suspicion.

Sitting up on your forearms, you ask, “... What do you mean ‘no’?”

"I mean… I…” Damian sighs, looking utterly frustrated with himself. “I mean, you don’t need to.”

You blink and raise a brow, unimpressed.

“... Because?”

Damian’s jaw hardens. He grits out, “Because, I'm… sterile."

You flinch, purely from surprise. Damian merely stares, eyes narrowed in what you presume is annoyance at himself.

Uh. Okay, hello brand new information? Why hadn't this come up before? Well, it is pretty sensitive information. And since you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, why would he have brought it up? And today was the first day you had even thought about kids. It… makes sense.

"Y-you are...?" You settle down, much like a cat whose hair is lowering from standing on end. "Okay… okay...” Damian remains stony, but he cringes at your clear relief.

Mistaking it as embarrassment, you quickly stroke his cheek. “No, baby, I'm sorry about that." You could assume it's quite emasculating. Men and their complexes about performing and wow, suddenly the breeding kink makes sense.

“So, you can’t…” you trail off. Knock me up? remains gracefully unsaid.

Damian nods stiffly. He really does hate lying to you like this. "I've been told it's very... unlikely." In reality, Damian knows his sperm count, and he's verified there should be no issues with reproduction. You both are in peak condition.

Despite the heat raging in your pants and your body begging can we just fuck already, you furrow your brows. All of this sounded fine, but it was still just… you needed specifics. To be safe. After all, there’s no rush, is there? Even if your pulsating cunt would beg to differ, painfully aware that two naked people were in a bed not doing naked-people-things.

"When did you get tested? And w-why? I mean, you're only twenty-one."

He waves his hand, snorting with his typical condescension. "I'm an heir to a dynasty – as soon as I was of age, it behooved us to know."

Us. That’s not a you-and-me “us”. You cringe, thinking about Talia and Ra's Al Ghul making it their business to know Damian's fertility. What an invasion of privacy for him… And no wonder he thought nothing of being in your body’s business as well.

"Well, unlikely is still possible, right?” You fear any surprises. Lord knows it would be just your luck to get fertilized by the un-fertilizable. You point at him. “And we should be using condoms anyway! It's not just pregnancy we should be afraid of."

Damian wants to assure you how insanely low the chances are of an infertile male getting anybody pregnant, and is about to do so, when his eyes narrow.

"Is there a reason we would need to protect against venereal diseases? There are none between the two of us." You flinch at his tone, colored with the acidity of jealousy. Suspicion.

The implication (accusation?) causes you to glare at him.

“...Yeahhh, okay,” you reply coldly. “Moment's ruined.”

You push him off you, but in a panic, he hisses your name. You flinch. At your wary expression, the color drains from his face.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed and looking utterly ashamed. “I… I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, simply nodding. He places kisses on your wrist, shoulder, nose. Damian sometimes had his moods, although he was truly confusing you today.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure. And it’s true, it was mainly the heat of the moment. You were sure Damian could never really scare you.

Your words don’t persuade the shame and fear out of his eyes or lighten the heaviness of his brow. You smile, huffing. Taking his face into your heads, you kiss him chastely on the forehead, nose tip, both cheeks. Until you punctuate the action with a kiss to his lips.

“Damian, really.”

Damian nods stiffly. He’ll never truly forgive himself, but he’s probably okay enough for now.

You shift on the bed, and there’s the telltale sensitivity between your thighs. Damn it. You still want him. You two stare at each other, still very naked and aroused. You turn the idea in your head … He’s sterile, right? And pregnancy is your only reservation.

As if hearing your thoughts, Damian’s face fills with determination.

“... I-it’s–” okay, let’s have sex anyway, you are going to finish.

“I’ll do it,” he interrupts. You blink. He leans toward you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. You’re sure he’s about to kiss you, when he suddenly withdraws.

Your eyes catch the glimmer of some metallic object. He holds a silver square wrapper in between his fingers, likely plucked from beneath his pillow.

You look at him, and he says frankly, “I’ll do anything for you.”

You melt… before grinning, catlike. “My, my. So it seems Mr. I-Don’t-Like-Condoms still prepares a contingency plan. Very Son of Batman of you–”

“Shut it,” he groans, dotting kisses along your neck to make you do just that.

You feel relief flood your bloodstream. Then it is quickly replaced with raging desire. Oh, finally.

“Lay back,” he says, too soft to be an order. You do so without fanfare, a little curious as to why he’s not following you. Then you see him scoot back, feel him hike up your lower half, and you feel a thrill of excitement.

You squeak, feeling your ass leaving the bed entirely. A pillow is quickly placed underneath, and you are feeling quite pampered.

There’s curious licks along your labia, to which you twitch.

Damian finds his way to your clitoris, suckling and stroking heavily with his tongue.

“Hhnngh,” you speak. Keep going. Right there.

“Truly, a poet,” Damian’s voice says, muffled. You bite your lip, unable to retort because it feels too good. Damian is curious, experimenting. You know he’s gamifying this, responding and changing his strategies entirely on what draws the most unintelligible noise out of you. He slips his tongue in, and you grasp at his hair. He responds by pumping it back and forth.

Eventually, you do fear he’ll bring you to orgasm with this alone, when you both have more plans for the evening.

You wipe a layer of sweat from your temple, panting. “I’m ready. I’m ready,” you say, tugging meekly at short black locks.

Damian hums, and the vibration hits you straight in the clit. He sits up on his forearms, lips delightfully messy. His cheeks are ruddy and his brows are pinched with effort, chest heaving for breath. He looks very good like this.

“I’m ready,” you say again. Damian doesn’t need to be told twice. Your head hits the back of the pillow, and you close your eyes as you catch your breath. You hear the rustling and discarding of a condom wrapper. Damian positions himself accordingly, hands sunk into the bed on either side of your waist.

“Ready?” he asks. His eyes hold… shyness, if you can believe it. You stroke his cheek, grinning.

“Always ready for you,” you respond. You make sure to sit up. You want to see.

You watch, fascinated, as the head of Damian’s cock slowly disappears into your body. The consonance between seeing it and feeling it only stokes the fire of your arousal.

You moan openly, the sound making your ears heat. Damian dares to chuckle, and you claw his back in retaliation.

“Oh, shut up, and go deeper,” you breathe, eyes fluttering with pleasure. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. The feeling of being filled, of being full. You didn’t realize you could miss something you never had as well – Damian felt like he belonged in you. You feel every inch of you work to accommodate his sudden presence.

“And how can I deny such a request?” he gasps aloud, voice strained.

You feel more than a little pride that you were among the few who could make Damian bend to your whims with this (or any) level of subservience. The proud, proud Damian Wayne. The same Damian that sinks into you further, into your tight, hot wetness. He finally bottoms out and you exhale.

“You’re… a perfect… fit,” you say, dazed and in between pants.

Little do you know the resulting pang that shoots into his groin at that statement. He grasps you harder, maybe even enough to bruise. He needs you badly. He needs to fill you badly.

Damian leans even more forward, and you squeal. You’re just along for the ride at this point. He does all the necessary machinations to fold you in half, thighs bending back.

"W-wait," you stutter, but it falls on deaf ears.

He’s really stretching the limits of your flexibility here. Before you know it, you’re in a mating press.

“Damian,” you moan, because you’re too overstimulated to say much else.

“You’re perfect,” he says into the shell of your ear. “You can take this. You were made for this.” You nod, slack-jawed. He rocks into you, skin slapping against skin as your pelvises meet. Your eyes flutter and roll back.

“I could spend forever filling you up. I could spend forever watching it spill out of you.”

You close your eyes, cheeks aflame, much too embarrassed by his perverse whispers. You feel … almost ashamed at how much it arouses you. Almost. Majorly, it’s fulfilling a dark fantasy you didn’t know you liked.

“... Come inside me,” you breathe, unable to say anything more. You were embarrassed enough. He was using a condom, it was assumed he would be. But hopefully he’d see you were participating in his little fantasy, that you liked it too…

His thrusts are unyielding, and they only get harder, faster, more desperate as the time passes. Damian finishes with a groan, his abs clenching and flexing with effort.

You welcome it, taking it all because he’s right, you were made for this. In this moment, it’s like you were entirely made for this.

To your surprise, there’s sudden stroking on your throbbing clit, and that brings you to the finish line as well.

Your head jerks back violently, body snapping to attention as you ride the wave of an orgasm. A gasp by your ear. You’re clenching around Damian’s length, wringing him dry.

He collapses, narrowly keeping himself from squashing you flat. The two of you are a tangle of sweaty limbs, chests heaving.

“You’ve got to get out of me sometime,” you tease.

You’ve both been lying like this, too taxed to move for maybe ten minutes now.

“Is that so? Honestly, I could die here without complaint,” Damian says, and you get the feeling he’s dead serious. Nevertheless, he rolls away. He does not let you go far, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at the feeling of him unsheathing himself, suddenly feeling empty.

… And wet. Wetter than expected.

You keep from flushing. Damn, you were really enamored with him, it seems.

You rub your thighs together, relishing in the feeling. Until you pause.

… No, like, you’re really wet.

You slowly sit up, investigating. To your surprise, you’re leaking… cum. And clearly not just your own. It’s smattered down your thighs, sticky. When you pause and can literally feel the cum drip out of you, you exclaim.

“Fuck… fuck.” You put a hand to your dripping cunt, and are surprised when it indeed comes back wet and pearlescent white. It’s for real.

“What’s wrong?” you hear, but you hardly register it.

You pull at a scrap of wrinkled plastic, pulling it out. The condom is shredded. It broke.

“Damian. It broke.”

You stare at it dumbly. It broke. You feel the onset of fear creep by… it’s held at bay, when you feel Damian hushing you, stroking your shoulders.

Damian holds you, asks why are you worrying…? He told you there’s no way. He can’t, he’s sterile.

You dumbly nod, combating fear by reasoning with yourself. Well… you were about to have sex without it anyway, after all. What does it matter if the condom broke?

You suppose it’s just the shock of a failsafe… well, failing to save you. So why do you feel so disconcerted? What’s this niggling feeling, you wonder. You stare at your inner thighs. His cum paints you like a mark.

“It’s nigh impossible,” Damian states. He’s doing what he does best – nullifying your emotions with facts. He pulls you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “The condom was really for your peace of mind. It’s not like it did anything.”

You don’t speak, simply staring at the condom in your hand. You nod.

“Really, there’s no point in wearing condoms from now on anyway. They break.”

Damian’s fingers trace circles on the bone of your shoulders. “I mean, they’re practically pointless. And either way–”

With his long reach, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He pulls up an article, illustrating the likelihood of him successfully inseminating you.

“See?” he says. “It’s not a factor.”

Unwilling to let whatever strange funk you’ve entered ruin the afterglow of your orgasm, you nod again. You turn your head halfway, smiling. Of course, without missing a beat, Damian kisses you sweetly.

To hell with the condom. And to hell with getting stuck in your head. Lord knows you overthink everything. It’s as Damian says.

His fingers dance on your abdomen, and it tickles.

It’s impossible.

#yandere damian wayne #yandere batfam #damian wayne x reader #girllllll #i just have to post this already im tired #mine

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hwaightme · 2 months

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Both

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR STAR’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)(masterlist) (taglist)

❤️‍🔥 pairing: husband!seonghwa x gn!afab!reader ❤️‍🔥 genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established long-term relationship ❤️‍🔥 summary: all work and no play makes seonghwa a needy boy; your husband wants you. now. and he will use any means necessary to get you where he wants you. being in the office is not a problem when you are one message away... ❤️‍🔥 wordcount: 8.6k total ❤️‍🔥 warnings/tags: semi-edited, hwa duality, businessperson!reader, mention of offices/presentations/corporate culture, nonidol!hwa, married but permanently in honeymoon phase, two people very in love, petnames, mutual respect, trust and adoration, seonghwa is smitten, reader wears heels, words crazy+drunk used ❤️‍🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic ❤️‍🔥 a/n: spiralled into ponderings with @byuntrash101 (ily), and my fingers slipped. oops. any notes, asks, reblogs appreciated <3 much love!

❤️‍🔥 taglist: sexting, praise, petnames (love, darling, my love, pretty, gorgeous...), consent is king, unprotected sex (consider before you deliver), mating press/missionary (vanilla but make it spicy), 69 (blowjob+eating out), creampie, cumeating, slight spit kink, sprinklings of body worship, possessive terms (my/mine), light overstimulation, implied aftercare

“How do I look?” you called out to your husband, who was sitting behind you on your shared bed, feline in the way he was leaning back on his arms, regarding you through half-shut, curious eyes.

Unlike you, he had the day free, but even so decided to go through the motions of a morning routine with you, though finalising it with a considerably less formal outfit. Dressed in a black sweater and matching black trousers, Seonghwa had stated that he was going to go out to get some fresh produce from the market while it was still early, and the rush of crowds did not plague the city just yet. Patiently, he was waiting for you to be ready to head out to work, and he, to comfortably support the home front for today.

“Hm, you look like me having to come to work with you and me having a blast telling waves of potential suitors that you are off limits.” He responded as a matter of factly. Nevertheless, you caught a cheeky grin in the mirror as he scanned you up and down with the intensity of a burning sun.

“Oh … Hwa, what if I want the attention? And what are you going to do about the stakeholders I’ll be speaking to, hm?” You asked him coyly, finally managing to get your second earring on and tapping it with your manicured finger for good measure.

“Something tells me that I’ll have to step in and act like security.”

You chuckled, taken aback, pleasantly lightheaded because of Seonghwa’s early morning flirtations. With one final once over, he smoothed the bed sheets on either side of him and rose up to step right behind you, placing both hands under your suit jacket and on your waist, leaning closer and closer until he could place a soft kiss on the side of your neck which, thanks to your hairstyle, was exposed to the attention.

The sleek, deep navy suit was an elegant number, peaked lapels on the single-breasted jacket perfectly pressed, the wide-legged trousers perfectly guiding towards the heels - pumps in a nude beige, and the white asymmetrical short-sleeved shirt underneath all combining to create perfect harmony. You had chosen elegance over daring energetic appeal today, picking pearl-based jewellery which, upon inspection, was exactly how you had imagined it would be with the outfit. A delicate balance was struck, and was reminiscent of how your husband was gingerly manoeuvring over and around you, until he appeared to have had enough with stalling.

Seonghwa’s arms lazily slid forwards, wrapping a little tighter around you, while his head moved to nudge you towards himself with his chin, until he could rest his head on your shoulder comfortably. Initially wishing to pry yourself away given how little time you had left if you were to make it to the office at a reasonable time, your hands rushed to his own, but as your husband began to sway side to side, blissfully taking in the image in the mirror, you left them there, admiring the priceless scene, and the way in which his hands fit perfectly over yours, the rings matching, another sign of your union completing the masterpiece in the reflection.

"Come on, Hwa, I’ll be late at this rate."

"What's it got to do with me, ma'am? I finished getting dressed fifteen minutes ago, was sitting here, all good and ready for you-" ignoring the word choice, you persisted:

"Because a certain someone was hogging the shower-"

"I told you, you could join." heat flushed to your cheeks as you caught Seonghwa’s less than innocent expression, making you remember exactly why you were not planning to get into any intimate shared space with this alluring schemer before work. Planting a feather-light kiss on your sensitive skin, he was threatening to make you lose track of time entirely. Attempting to wipe the action from immediate perception, you focused on the sensation of tugging on one of your earrings, anything to ground you and to return you into the headspace of the meetings you had scheduled and been booked into for the day, along with the details and key takeaways for each one.

You had always been a fighter in the professional world, and this was one of the many things that Seonghwa adored about you. Having met at a networking event, that was the side of you he had come to be acquainted with first, and had fallen head over heels for. A sublime intensity that came with the passion you had for your work, a fire that ignited when you planned ahead, led teams and managed international ventures were so beautifully contained within you and formulated the intricate maze of your psyche that Seonghwa could not help but want to drown in it, and spend eternity observing you in action. He himself had stepped away from the strict and rigorous structures of the corporate world, instead preferring to offer independent consultation services, but to see you flourish, and to be there for your journey and to have you unconditionally support his decisions and experiments too was nothing short of a blessing. Perhaps the one side effect, a tiny challenge that came with having you as his life partner, his love and his spouse is mornings like this, when you were in the process of escaping for work, driven and ready for battle, your armour being one of the stylish suits of impeccable quality that you took great pains to keep pristine. And the more you did so, the stronger was his desire to see if he could ruin just one, at least one, perhaps the one you were wearing right now. Despite the fact that he had seen you in such garments more times than either of you could possibly count or remember, it made him more drawn to you and involuntarily seduced than he would ever dare admit. Seonghwa’s grip on your hips inadvertently tightened as gaze flashed upwards, settling on the reflection of your perfectly plump, tinted lips in the mirror.

“Besides… As you know, I was making sure that the adjustments were all fine and the overall outfit would be fine for the quarterly review meeting,” you recalled your last-minute concerns over whether the selection was reasonable for meeting persons from the executive office, even though you were not sure if you even had outfits in your job-related arsenal that would not be appropriate, “You could have helped by the way.”

"I did! I gave the fit the Seonghwa seal of approval, but now... honestly am regretting it because you look illegal..."

He turned his attention back to the delicate skin around your neck, planting a couple more kisses with mischief glowing in his eyes. You giggled as his breath left a ticklish sensation and you nearly knocked your head with his in an attempt to shy away.

"And how do you think I feel, leaving you at home like this?”, you let your gaze settle on your husband, a ghost of a smirk revealing itself on your lips, “I need to brush up on my cat fighting techniques, mister handsome, and maybe learn how to teleport" Put him in a rag and he would still look spectacular. Like this, in a relaxed, casual outfit that ideally matched his dark locks, highlighted the broadness of his shoulders and the jawline models would be jealous of, he was heavenly - something which you never failed to remind him of no matter what he was wearing. It was almost a shame that you had to leave for work instead of admiring this beauty for the entire day and an eternity more. You bit the inside of your cheek, banishing less than safe for work ponderings from your mind.

"Woah, Y/N, fighting for me? That's kind of - I do not think I should say what I am thinking."

"You’re being awfully cheeky this morning!" You lightly slapped the back of his hand and spun around, coming closer until only a mere couple of centimetres separated you. "What else can a kitty do with her claws?"

"I mean... my back has no complaints." He speedily responded, tightening his hold on your waist and attempting to capture your lips with his. But at this point, you had gotten good enough at reading Seonghwa to move away at the last second, resulting in a loud smooch right against your jawbone, followed by a purposefully childish whine, "Oh darling you are being a tease."

"Naugh- ty- Seonghwa, no kisses. I took too long to line my cupid's bow. I'm not about to let you ruin it."

You tried to wiggle away, wondering if your suit was actually creaseproof as the assistant at the boutique had advertised, but he was having none of it, now grabbing your hands and swinging them side to side. With his prior seductive aura having subsided after your decisive, playful rejection, Seonghwa’s glances were in many ways boyish, permission-seeking. The most miniscule hint of a pout made its way to his lips as he peered what had to be directly into your heart and intertwined your fingers together, stopping the motion.

“Y/N…”

“Keep this thought in mind, lovely, will you be able to?” you purred, amused at your husband’s slow blinking, reminiscent of an affectionate cat.

“Of course,” you dodged another attempt by him to nuzzle into your neck with a soft, melodic laugh, and pulled Seonghwa to follow you out of the bedroom, “Ah, careful,” he rushed to block the door frame, chuckling at your eagerness to get to the hustle and bustle of your day, even though just a little while ago you still were retaining that light nervousness, likely overthinking every interaction that was not even likely to happen. After all, this was a job only you could do, and it was something that you did better than anyone else. You owned what you did, and everyone knew it.

As you grabbed your keys, and were about to bid farewell to your husband before starting your commute, you sensed his energy shifting to that of scheming.

Seonghwa had a trial to face, and it presented itself with how stunning you looked in the glimmering golden light of the early morning, and how your every step almost sent a shiver up his spine. Wherever you were, he always managed to find you in one sweeping gaze, whether you were on the other side of a room or a few steps away. One of a kind, captivating, the world turned around you whether you would agree with Seonghwa or not. It was a simple fact. And here, in your apartment, where it was just you and him, it was impossible to ignore how his vision was occupied by you, and only you. He was consumed by the effortless charm you radiated, and when you caught him staring, how you lifted one shoulder and responded with a cheeky grin - a gesture of faux coyness. He clenched a hand hidden behind his back into a tight fist until his knuckles turned white, mutely regarding your final preparations before you would disappear behind the door. His thoughts were far away from what he had planned to do today, cursing how you had teased him and blaming routines - your husband would have preferred to take you and himself apart right here right now, unravel the tension that was so obvious he could almost taste it. He bit his lower lip as you leaned down to shift your footing in one of your heels, and barely suppressed a hiss as you glided back up, the pace of the motion highlighting how your curves were complemented by the suit. You were enticing, and watching your back Seonghwa could not help but remember the sensation of running his hand across it, caressing your body, guiding it as you turned into a goddess in the dimmed lights of your shared bedroom, connected with him in every way possible. You smiled at him as though you were not aware of the lustful darkness that began to consume his mind, lips tantalising, dangerous, his favourite heavenly nectar. This was unbearable.

It was impossible to ignore the searing gaze that seemed to have never left you since you had first returned it in the mirror, and was the last thing you experienced as you shut the front door. You kept the radio in your car silent, afraid that your thoughts would be louder than the music either way. Your husband was up to something, determined, and focused on you. And it was beyond exciting. This undercurrent of energy that was eternal, and ran through anything and everything he did was one of the multitude of reasons why you loved him. He was enigmatic, and yet so easy for you to explore. He had opened himself up to you so readily, revealing the edges of his vibrant soul that was so unparalleled and high octane that you swore that after meeting him, you ceased to breathe oxygen and could only ever inhale the adoration he provided. He was a dreamer, an ideator, a man devoted to the search for happiness, and that balanced you out so perfectly - it had only been a month when you had decided for yourself that Seonghwa was the one for you, and you would never let go. He was an eternal surprise, an enigma that was as soft and lovely as a cat, but wrapping itself around you like a serpent, slow and sensual. You wondered, as the day commenced and you were pulled into your first meeting, then another, just what your husband had crafted in his beautiful mind palace.

It did not take too long for the plan to reveal itself. Fortunately, because you did not enjoy facing unknowns. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of a meeting with some rather senior people. On the brighter side, you had proposed a five minute break before continuing the session so you had at least a couple of breaths to re-compose yourself, but other than that… it was only you, the phone that you were squeezing so hard in your hand that it could break, and the daring photograph blaring on the screen, setting you on fire. You had exchanged a couple of messages with Seonghwa prior to the meeting, his responses being cryptic and dizzyingly abstract, but nothing could have prepared you for the surprise.

Your other hand quickly found your thigh, gripping onto it so that you would not break your stoic disposition with a shaking leg, and you glanced side to side to make sure that the colleagues next to you had not returned to the room yet, and the others were preoccupied with their own devices or were deep in mundane conversation. So, this was what he was so enthusiastic about down following the morning antics. Clearly, you had not been passive enough for him to dismiss your glances in his direction - if you were to be honest, you had been eyeing him up and down from the moment he intentionally walked into you while changing, making you wonder how it was possible for you to want him more and more with each passing day, rather than feelings of attraction and enamourment subsiding with marriage and with sharing all the ups and downs. Instead, both of you were each other’s paradise, and that presented itself in all forms of desire. As you regarded Seonghwa’s form in the picture, lightly biting your lower lip as you tried to think of how you could respond to it, you could only be amused by how he knew exactly what buttons to press, and how to reignite what you had tried to pause earlier this morning - simply as an attempt to retain your sanity for handling paperwork and handshakes.

Resting on the chair that was in your bedroom, he made sure to accentuate his impeccable form, and how his long hair suited him so spectacularly. He had changed outfits - just for you, and that made you want to devour him all the more. Your precious husband who looked like sin. The vibrant beige jacket, which appeared almost brown in the sensually dimmed lamplight, hung freely over his upper body, revealing a tastefully bare abdomen, and consequently, the lovebites you had managed to leave above his heart and towards his collarbones after a particularly intense night a couple of days ago - they had only now begun to show signs of fading. Towards the very bottom of the picture you could spot the edge of a matching pair of trousers, black belt intentionally loosened to make your imagination run wild. A centrepiece, his black silver necklace and a perfectly paired earring, were the icing on top of the cake, their shimmer beckoning you. It was impossible to choose what to focus on; the head tilt, the elegant hand on which he was practically resting his head, how one leg had been thrown over the other - confident, in his element, so very Seonghwa that it made you hurt; and want him. Desperately. You shut your eyes and rolled them as you imagined the smirk on his face as he sent the image, knowing exactly what state he would pause you in, and hurl you into. When your husband was in the mood, it gave him an additional thrill to either catch you off-guard completely with bold advances and compliments, or fluster you until you were melting in his arms. And you did not mind one bit; that was your time to let go, to give up your stresses and iron grip and let all strains snap and become threads with which Seonghwa could pull at your very essence, praising you for how well you could follow his guidance, and just how perfect you were for him. You did not notice how your thumb was merely hovering over the keyboard until another message slid into view, and you barely suppressed a gasp, again looking up to make sure no one was watching you.

“Missing you, your taste, your everything, darling,”

This was the last straw, as you almost forgot what meeting you were in, where you were, how you were supposed to behave. You jolted upright, standing straight and excused yourself with a bow of the head, pointing at your phone - with the screen turned towards you. It was easy enough to get out, and storming down the corridor until you were out of everybody’s earshot, you pressed onto the call button, only to be met with a deep chuckle after a single ring. You could envision him still sitting on the chair, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling as he toyed with your passions, beckoning you to race home to him. He knew you couldn’t until the day was officially done, and that was part of the fun. It only meant that when you were to finally open that front door, you would be more than ready to give yourself up to his tender love and care.

“Park Seonghwa, what do you think you are doing?” you hissed, pressing the phone right against the side of your face as your foot tapped an abstract rhythm on the carpeted floor.

“What do I think? I think I am talking to you right now, what about you?” he replied, purposefully feigning obliviousness.

“Hwa, the photo… the damn message....”

“Oh! That… yeah, it’s nothing special, really, I just did not send you any in quite some time, so thought I could spark… something,” he paused, indulging in your shallow breathing before finishing the sentence.

“Well you sparked something alright. Seonghwa. Or should I say, my demon of a husband?” you raised an eyebrow as you were met with a silence on the end of the line, but not long after, a sweet, resonant hum of agreement.

“Mm, what a title. Is that how I am making you feel, precious? Are you missing a certain something too?”

Missing. What exactly did both of you imply the other was missing? The word was laden with ambiguity and promise, imagination running wild from the emphasis that Seonghwa had placed on it, lifting it onto a pedestal, above rationality and stability. Inhale, exhale - you counted your breaths, knowing that in a minute you had to be heading back to talk numbers, strategies, even though only your husband would be on your mind.

“I-... yes, damn it,” you mumbled, lashes fluttering as a shiver ran up your spine.

“Mhm, I see… Now, don’t be shy, tell me, what is it that you are missing, what do you feel?” if there had been any hope of you remaining focused on work for the rest of the day, it was most certainly wiped now. You were mesmerised, clinging onto Seonghwa’s voice as though it was your only salvation in the midst of a storm. Quickly, you were losing all sense of your surroundings, too focused on his breaths, his sigh when he was obviously displeased with having to wait for your answer, and finally, his subtle command:

“Don’t be shy, tell me what’s on your mind,” you could not bring yourself to even part your lips, eyes darting to what you could see through the blinds into the meeting room. Your senior colleagues were still lethargic, unfocused, scrolling away or engaging in idle chatter. Maybe it could be advantageous, but judging by the heat that began to rise over your body you would definitely struggle stringing words together with eloquent cohesiveness. Seonghwa. The devious man. Your favourite drug. Your worst and best addiction.

“Perhaps you might need a little… inspiration… yes?”

“I…”

“...wouldn’t mind having you right on my tongue, writhing, falling apart…”

“Park Seonghwa-”

“I want to taste you. Want to keep you close for a long…” he paused, indulging in your electric silence, “long time, warm my cock while keeping you in a tight embrace, kissing you until we cannot breathe… how does that sound?”

“G-good…” you struggled to mumble out, wondering why your knees were transforming into jelly. The coolness of the wall against which you decided to lean provided some illusion of support.

“Your turn,” his tone turned more commanding and that did not go unnoticed. You bit your lower lip, not caring if that was going to smudge your lipstick. Nothing mattered, “I didn’t spare any details,” he waited. You remained frozen in your own thoughts, thousands of desires darting around your mind, but none being brave enough to escape and reveal itself to your husband. Perhaps for the better:

“Please don’t make me beg,” he must have heard you stifle a sound that was far too inappropriate to ever be heard in the workplace - the airy laugh that you were met with over the line was downright sinful, and made you curse your job. You needed him. Needed the release he was so readily offering.

“Or do you want me to pry your dirty little secrets out of you until you are the one begging?”

A shaky inhale, an equally shaky exhale. You uttered his name, in a low voice only he had ever heard. Simultaneously hostile and tantalising. He now knew that he had you hooked.

“Mm… fine. Please, my darling. Please, tell me all those precious filthy musings swimming around in that delightful brain of yours,” you clenched the phone tighter in your hand and crossed your legs. You knew you had no time, despite easily imagining the position that Seonghwa was in, where he was and how lost he was in a lascivious dreamland. Eyes glossed over, lips wetted with his own spit, tension building in his core which he refused to unwind. Without you, at least. With a sharp intake of cold air, you steadied yourself. You were not about to reward demands with treasures.

“Now, what would be the fun in that?”

“Come on… Y/N, I-”

“Be good, and you might just find out.” you cut him off, offering a fake smile to a colleague who walked past you. You needed to come back. Immediately.

“So you will be heading back on time today, right?” he was daring you, but at the same time it was easy to notice the notes of desperation. Untouched, riled up, overwhelmed. Needy. Just how you loved him.

“Hm… I do have a couple of things I could do…” who were you kidding? You had already gone through the fastest route home in your mind.

“Is that refusal I am hearing?” you heard him shift in his seat, the image of him leaning forwards to put an elbow on his knee so vivid that it was as if he was before you.

“Not at all, love, not… at all…” giving up due to your growing distraction, you let your husband have at least a little bit of hope. Clearly, the words worked wonders as with newfound vigour, Seonghwa bid you farewell.

“Then see you soon, Y/N darling.”

Soon could not come soon enough. You were glad no one could see your leg shaking under the table, and that you were well-practised in discreetly checking the time. Teasing, tugging you along to follow his game, striking you out of the blue and opening the door to the world that only you two shared. You would be lying if you said that you were thinking about anyone else while debating with an executive, or when you were brave enough to point out a blatant assumption that was used to support a projection earning yourself a few pointed questions. But nothing compared to the blaze that caressed your skin, spurred you on and made you feel alive. Your favourite deviant, seductive god, king of your heart and keeper of your soul, he gave you control just as much as he could take it away. Wiping away anxiety, he left anticipation. Erasing doubt, he left a blooming confidence.

And with that feeling and darkened gaze, you were racing against the clock, accompanied by the sound of your soles clicking against concrete, accelerating away from the skyscrapers that housed your professional victories and into winding tunnels. You mutely cursed at every delay and every pause in your commute, but nonetheless made it home in record time, astonished by the vista of the setting sun which you normally could not catch in the winter months.

---

The jingling of the keys alerted Seonghwa of your presence, and he set his phone screen down onto the kitchen table, turning to perch himself on the doorframe. He crossed his arms, a ghostly smile on his lips. Aside from going through the regular domestic chores he had planned for himself - a feat in his far from concentrated state, he had decided to be a little more forward with his demands, much to your shared excitement. This, of course, began with his appearance, or rather, a casual exposure of himself in a way you had always encouraged him to do, loving his body so genuinely that it translated into an unparalleled self-appreciation for him. At the same time, that meant that in moments just like this one, he could use your infatuation with his mind and his physique against you. All for a little bit of harmless fun.

He was right, as always. The moment you lifted your head and were about to announce your arrival, a breath hitched in your throat and words died on the tip of your tongue. Hair loose, bangs neatly falling to frame his face, and that damn jacket with a leopard print inner lining, casually thrown over his bare upper body, befitting him so well that you needed to give yourself some time before choking out a quick, feeble ‘I’m home’ and kicking off your heels. He grinned, outwardly innocent, pretending to ‘just be happy to see you, when in fact his imagination was already beginning to forgo every article of clothing you had on. Scanning your form, Seonghwa could not help but bite back a groan. Since the moment you had left this morning, he wanted you back because he wanted you. On the bed, on the table, on the counter, he did not care about the mess. In fact, if there was to be a mess, he would be all the more satisfied. His skin was burning worse than if he were to have a fever, and every moment that passed while you were going through the regular after work motions was pure torture.

As you finished washing your hands, and were about to tiptoe past him, likely to set your bag aside in your home office, he stopped you with one, quiet utterance.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day…”

Your heart was pumping an unsteady, deafening rhythm, and your hands were on the verge of shaking. Nothing was stopping you from simply giving in… except maybe an inkling of rebellion that clung onto you. He already had you in his hold, mouldable to whatever form he wished for, but if he was to play the long game, so were you.

“Mmm… don’t know about that. Missed the memo,” you huffed, wasting a little too much strength on forcing the phrases. Rushing past your husband, you headed to your office and pretended to be taken by both your bag and the miscellaneous stationery left on the desk.

You heard Seonghwa stalking behind you loud and clear, hyperfocused on his catlike steps, but remained rooted to your spot. Taking every item out of your bag, painfully slow, you were rapidly succumbing to the vision of your husband taking you apart. Gorgeous tanned skin, which you knew he was purposefully flaunting to you, intoxicating plush lips which were so vivid in your mind you could almost taste them, and his skillful hands… which just so happened to now be hovering over your waist. You clenched your jaw when they found purchase on your hips, and almost guided you to stand up and be pressed right against him.

Heat was rolling off your stunning lover in waves, and it was downright unbearable to have your back be connected to his toned chest. Seonghwa had no plans of letting you go. He pulled you closer, until you could practically trace his half-hard cock with your ass. He sighed at the contact, air softly passing over your skin, and let his lips trace a broken line upwards to your ear.

“That won’t do at all…” he flexed his arms as his hands roamed your body, “Fortunately, I know exactly how to show you,” you completely blanked, “what a good husband you have.”

As he was about to toy with the buttons at the top of your shirt, the one on your jacket having been long undone, you sprung into action and stopped him, barely suppressing a smirk as you turned your head and spotted a dash of confusion in his glossy eyes.

“I do have a wonderful husband, indeed. Too bad he does not know how to behave properly,” using the moment you slipped out of his embrace, and sauntered towards the door. Seonghwa was left in shock, starved and needy, having been thinking about you, you and only you all day. But his composition returned just as rapidly as it had faltered. You slowed down before reaching the door, as if being pulled back.

Seonghwa was, indeed, magnetic. Lithe, agile, he reminded you of a panther, slinking across the couple of metres that separated you. You were aching to rip off the beige two piece right where he stood, and involuntarily darted your tongue between your lips, much to your husband’s amusement. He was not quite as gentle this time, grabbing a hold of you until you were chest to chest and securing your position by pressing on your lower back. His breath tickled your face; your hands snaked under his jacket, running over exposed skin, worshipping every part you could both see and visualise.

“Really, Hwa. So eager,” you mumbled, brushing your lips over his, testing the waters and seeing a lustful, desperate storm clouding his dilated pupils.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered against your cheek, leaving a tentative peck. You dared to glance at him, poking his nose with your own.

“You’re acting out… disrupting me at work… sending such dirty things to me… calling me to tell me how you want me… is this to be rewarded, my love?” a shudder rolled over Seonghwa’s body, resulting in him planting more feverish kisses over your face, moving towards your jawline and finally across to your ear, nipping it.

“How could I ever behave when I need you, and you are looking like this…” his fingers caressed the collar of your shirt, scalding hot, “and are wearing my favourite perfume…” he inhaled, as though he was drunk off your scent - it was nothing more than what had come to be your signature, a bouquet of notes that defined you, but soon enough turned to being another way in which you occupied Seonghwa’s senses.

Both of you subconsciously moved towards the door, getting impatient. Fingertips mapped the hickeys with violently cautious touches, and Seonghwa swore that if he did not act now, he would go mad. It was ridiculous. You were his life partner, a person to whom he had committed with his entire being, and yet with every passing day his desire for you kept on growing and he was falling deeper and deeper in both love and lust. With you in his arms he was a man lost at sea, blanking out, spiralling and devoted to passion. A big difference between your time dating and your married life, however, was that he did not have to hold back on his own wishes anymore, being as explicit as he was comfortable with, knowing that you would do the same, and no matter what, pleasure would be mutual and adoring. And, he needed it. Seonghwa needed you now. His hand moved on its own accord to cup your face and guide it towards his own. Millimetres apart, he set you ablaze along with him.

“...please…” spilled out, a feeble plea. Seonghwa’s eyes were darting all around you, trying to get some kind of answer, permission, anything. You nodded. And the thread holding you two back snapped.

The kiss was messy, animalistic, far from the calm lover with whom you shared your daily life. Seonghwa did not give you a chance to breathe, instead pushing his lips against yours with the ferocity of a starved man. Unparalleled sweetness graced you as his tongue slipped inside, and he eagerly revisited the movements he found most entrancing, his occasional rough and low growls sending you into a frenzy. Your muted whine spurred him on, and he pushed your entangled forms out of the office, and into the bedroom, the door to which had been left open.

One nip, another, it was as if he wanted to mark you as his everywhere, teeth leaving a pleasant blend of satisfaction and a dull pain to spread from your lips and shoot straight to your core. You began to push off his jacket, a request which he readily accepted, leaving him constrained only by his bottoms. Seonghwa would not give you any false advantages, speedily tugging your jacket off you. His erection was pressing into your thigh, and you could not resist grinding against him, eliciting a delicious groan.

Soon enough, your shirt and bra hastily joined your jacket on the floor, while Seonghwa spared no time in kneading one of your breasts, while feeling the air with the other in an attempt to reach the switch on the floor lamp, growling into the kiss when he missed the first couple of times and hand to open his eyes. You broke away from your husband, resting your palms on his abdomen and admiring just how pretty he looked in the warm, dimmed light that washed over the room in a flash. So it was that kind of night.

“...Want to see you…” he mumbled as he pressed his forehead against yours and locked your lips together once more, guiding you backwards towards the bed. When your legs hit its edge, he hooked his strong arm around you, a quick “careful,” escaping him.

“Let’s get this off, shall we?” gliding a finger on the inner side of the trouser waistband, he waited for you to comply. It did not take much time for you to get rid of the remaining clothes, and be left only with the full awareness of just how wet you really were.

You pressed your legs together, only for Seonghwa to inch his knee and push it in between, forcing them back apart. It was times like this when you realised that he really could read you better than you could read yourself, and any gesture, thought or fantasy, was his as much as your own.

“You’re so beautiful, no need to hide from me,” he scanned over your body, and you felt like you were on fire, melting into him. While your husband’s eyes were glazed over with lust, within them they still held so much love that your heart could burst. “Ah, wait a minute,” you watched as he removed his bottoms, and with a hiss, let his hard and leaking cock spring free. His low chuckle was music to your ears, “now we’re good.”

“Mhm… oh Hwa… I really did make you wait…” you lowered your gaze to his cock, finger tracing a line down his stomach and stopping right before its base. He sucked in a shallow breath, nuzzling his face against yours to hide how close he was to being pushed completely over the edge. Patience was a virtue, and he barely had any left. “Let me take care of you, hm?” you suggested, trying to move to the side to gesture for Seonghwa to sit down on the bed. He remained still, and whispered against your cheek:

“No… I wanted to do that- ah-” your leg brushed against Seonghwa’s sensitive cockhead, pulling a gasp out of him.

“Then I have an idea, if you’re with me on this. Lie down for me?” pulling away, you switched where you were standing, and tilted your chin to gesture at the bed that was now in front of you. Seonghwa peered around his shoulder, and back at you, a soft, tiny smile, albeit a meek one, dancing on his lips.

“Baby you’re doing too-”

“Shush, we can make each other feel good,” promptly following Seonghwa, you were now hovering above him, playing with his necklace.

“I love you,” he said breathlessly, making the side of your mouth curl into a half smile.

“I love you too.”

“Now I’m craving something sweet,” you lightly slapped his chest and shook your head in an attempt to hide your amusement.

“Oh stop it…”

“I think I’ll go crazy if I don't have you sitting on my face in the next few seconds.”

“Can’t have that happening.”

You adjusted positions, and once you had your back facing Seonghwa, he pulled your hips towards him to lower your pussy over his face. Carefully, you leaned forward, relishing in the sight of your husband’s impossibly stunning body, every muscle a work of art. After finding a comfortable balance, and waiting for the initial shock of Seonghwa tasting you to turn into a continuous thrum of pleasure, you spat into your palm, and wrapped the hand around his cock. His thighs tensed in response and his grasp became tighter as he rolled his tongue over your clit.

Mirroring him, you teased his cockhead, and only then proceeded to take his length into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and moving slowly to ensure that he would not reflexively buck into you. You flattened your tongue, dragging it along the shaft and spreading spit and precum. You took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. With hollowed cheeks you began to bob your head at a leisurely pace and not caring for the mess you were making at the base of his cock, clear liquid running down past the corners of your swollen lips.

Seonghwa produced a muffled noise, unable to stay completely focused while you were driving him towards his high, but not breaking contact. He sucked on your clit, making you whine while deepthroating him. Your eyes were starting to water as you wanted more, always more, and you reached to fondle his balls, pausing to get some air. Strings of saliva and precum momentarily connected you still, and the lewdness of the scene was downright pornographic. You were relentless, addicted to this man whom you had the exclusive ability to call your husband. You were the one who knew how to take him apart and put him back together.

The wanton sounds of Seonghwa devouring your pussy stimulated you further, and the coil which had been growing tighter with every pass of his skillful tongue was ready to snap and release. A hint of a trembling sensation passed through your legs, and you sped up your own motions, your hand jerking off the base while you swirled over his tip in preparation to take him fully again.

Seonghwa dipping his tongue between, in and out, and through your wet folds had you seeing stars, and you grinded against him. He gripped you tighter so that you would not be able to instinctively squirm and lift yourself upwards, and circled around your aroused clit, sucking it in between his lips and returning to fucking you with his tongue. His vision was clouded, he was in a daze, unable to process anything anymore, except the static fuzziness in his brain and how delicious you were.

He used up what little attention he had left on your clit, and repeated ministrations had you tipping over the edge and shuddering in his hold. Seonghwa remained buried between your legs as your climax hit you, and held you to prevent your hips from leaving him, and continued to lap at your sopping heat, catching your release. You moaned against his cock, freezing in place and letting your husband chase his high by bucking his hips upwards and using you. In no time, he was painting your mouth and your throat with thick strings of white, falling back onto the bed while you followed to try and swallow as much of his release as you could. Cum and spit was dribbling down your chin and his shaft when you were finished, and once you, with Seonghwa’s help, were laying on your side and face to face with him the unmistakable glistening fluid on his face made you love him all the more. One kiss, another, you tasted yourselves on each other’s lips, choosing to make your lungs scream rather than let go.

He was so beautiful. His loving, electric gaze - a permanent feature of his expression when it came to you. Everything about him was a reason to adore him. You brushed away a strand of hair, one which had stubbornly stuck to his forehead, only for Seonghwa to take your hand in his and plant a soft kiss on its back. You giggled, enjoying the contrast of this intimate, but lighthearted moment as opposed to the passionate exchange earlier. This was how he was, and you would not want him any different.

You took your time regarding him, and he did the same to you. Blissful, overflowing with a want for more. His lips were on yours again, and you deepened the kiss by bunching his long inky hair in your hand. Every reaction, every gasp was your favourite music. Seonghwa rolled over and positioned himself between your legs, arms on either side. Hair perfectly framed his elegant features, and the shadows cast shapes akin to a painting you would see at a gallery. He was a masterpiece.

“Lift your hips for me,” you followed his request, wriggling into position while he lifted himself up to take your legs and bend them towards your torso, “thank you, my love… such a pretty pussy, all mine,” the dirty talk came naturally to him, and it was not your first time hearing it, but nonetheless had you biting the inside of your cheek.

Still sensitive, you whispered his name when he glided his hardened cock between your wet folds. Coated in slick and cream, Seonghwa met no resistance and bottomed out in one stroke. Your loud moan prompted words of praise and adoration, and he was certain that nothing could ever be better than this.

“Ah- just perfect-” you watched his face contort , eyes threatening to roll back as he started to thrust into you.

You could barely form words, sinking into the pillows and peeking at Seonghwa through half-lidded eyes - the most you could muster. All your senses were filled with him, and you swore you were going to fall apart at any moment. Grateful for his arms supporting your legs, you physically couldn’t resist the drowning pleasure, instead trying your best to keep up with his cock drilling into you, failing whenever it brushed over your sweet spot.

“H-hwa-”

“Mm?”

“Kiss me,” you pleaded, making him push your legs further apart and crawl a little ways over you until his orbs, near black in the dimly lit room, were boring into you.

You intertwined, overlapped, transposed into something greater than yourselves. Sharing the same air, you panted in time with your lover and captured his lips with yours over, and over again. His body was so close to yours, that you could feel his necklace brushing over your chest, occasionally touching your neck. Seonghwa filled you to the hilt, the slight stretch turning your moans into barely audible mewls.

“Please- h-harder- I l-love your cock so mu-uch-”

Seonghwa cursed under his breath, drunk from your choice of words, and with one final kiss curled over you and quickened the rocking of his hips to a brutal euphoria. You were on the verge of melting, bodies turning agonisingly hot with each passing second. Your hands searched for his wrists, weakly wrapping around them for some form of support. Carnal; you were infinitely turned on by how instinctive his reactions were. You could not care for anything in the world, words turning to a garbled mess and moans loudly echoing in your husband’s ears.

“F-fuck, you feel so good I’m-” he was fisting the bedsheets, ruthlessly pounding into you, the slapping of skin against skin and your sounds making him fall apart.

His pace faltered as he came, legs shuddering, voice breaking as he unleashed an airy and high-pitched moan, but he still continued to thrust while he filled you with his warm load. He pushed his release deeper inside you, breathing heavily and pressing you more and more into the bedsheets. The squelching was downright filthy, but you wanted to capture every drop and threw your arms around Seonghwa as much as you could given your position, simply so he could be flush against you. He hissed through gritted teeth as your walls began to clench around his aching length, prompting aftershocks from his orgasm.

“Hwa-a, I’m coming, I- don’t stop please-”

“Come for me, love,” his gentleness, even in such a feverish moment, was your undoing. The thread you had been clinging onto snapped.

Your head fell back against the pillows, and if it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s form securing you from above, you knew you would be arching off the bed, uncontrollable. You called out his name like a mantra, and in your ecstatic haze could sense him slowing down, helping both of you ride out your intense climaxes. Vision spinning, you did not dare move, instead transforming into a pliable doll for Seonghwa to rearrange. Shakily, he let go of the bed sheets and sat upright, tapping your legs to relax. Lazily, you stretched out, heart still racing, and barely registered the dip of the mattress next to you.

When you turned, your husband was there, head resting on his hand, propped up by his elbow. He was studying you with a small smile, and when he noticed you were more present, leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hello,” it was almost unbelievable, just how honey sweet he could be in a matter of seconds, making you more shy than during sex. This made you all too aware and critical of your current state, and you turned your head to search for something to cover yourself with, until you heard a sigh escape your husband, “It’s like I’m dreaming. You’re so enchanting.”

He fell fully by your side, draping an arm over your upper body and gingerly massaging your hip. It was rare for him to not rush to clean both of you off, but you were not complaining about this kind of moment of closeness. It felt raw. It felt real. You got to fall in love for the nth time. Seonghwa’s face was rosy, blushed, and he was just barely steadying himself, but even then, was not letting go of you, choosing to retain all physical proximity in favour of going about routines. HIs cum is smeared over your folds, was dripping onto the covers and had smeared across your inner thighs, you had remnants of spit and release on your face, and yet he was still looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. His one and only.

“Not too sore? Shall I run a bath?” He poked your nose with his own, grinning when you ran a hand over the side of his face.

“Mm… I’m fine. But a bath would be nice. Can we…”

“Want me to join?”

“Mhm. Want you to give me a head massage.”

“Ah, of course, at your service-”

“Come on…” you chuckled at his joke and trailed off, pausing to stare deep into his eyes, musing everything and nothing all at once.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking how you should send me pictures more often,” a hint of darkness flashed in his eyes; mischief, future schemes formulating themselves. You traced past love bites, ran a finger over his plump lips which were equally as red and swollen as yours, you bet.

“Mm, you changed your mind I see. None of that ‘I am at work’ anymore, then?”

“Maybe you should be the one who is worried now,” you shot back with a smirk.

Seonghwa sat up, swinging his legs over to the edge of the bed, but turning back to give you one last adoring look before launching into a routine long-familiar to you. In no time, you would be taking careful sips of water while waiting for the bath to fill, and your husband would be telling you to stay put, having returned from the clouds and back to finding it unbearable to have clothes on the floor and creasing. Your heart swelled. He was everything at once, flipping switches, changing from one second to the next while still being his gorgeous self. Before, it had made you confused, flustered. Now, you just loved him. There was no other way to put it. You got to see every curve and edge, and always discovered something new.

“I’ll be impatiently waiting.”

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