lockefanfic - Tumblr blog

lockefanfic · 7 days ago

Text

Alarming

The following is 3.2k words of pure unedited filth that could be a part of the Business Trip storyline but could just be the product of an hour of BFH-inspired viewings of Momo’s most recent Strategy fancam but anyway here we go I put some words together I am writer I can write I swear -

---

You had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the iPhone’s alarm jingle. More often than not it was a source of frustration or anger, given its tendency to rip you unwillingly from the warm, comfortable embrace of sleep. It was too often a herald of reality, a reminder of adult responsibilities like spending the next eight hours exchanging your time for the money necessary to afford a cell phone alarm in the first place.

But these days you weren’t so upset at the familiar jingle and the way it interrupted your gaming session. How could you be, knowing what this particular alarm was for?

You quit your game mid-session, not even bothering to leave the match, leaving your virtual special operative frozen on its digital battlefield, an easy kill for some sweaty thirteen year old. Even before the console has fully powered down, you’re already on your way up the stairs to the bedroom.

Hirai Momo is waiting for you on your bed, wearing a silk robe that reached the top of her thighs and no further, leaving those long, toned legs of hers bare. She is on her phone, no doubt having just silence the same alarm notification as the one that brought you to her presence. With a wry smile she makes a few taps on her screen, likely placing her phone on Do Not Disturb.

“Come here, then,” she says, casually, as though she weren’t inviting you into your bed dressed the way she was.

“I plan to,” you answer, earning a giggle from your wife as you rid yourself of your t-shirt and join her on the bed, crawling atop her.

She smiles into your kiss. It is soft and intimate. Her lips are sweet and sticky and taste vaguely of the strawberry lip balm she loved so much. When the kiss finally ends the two of you stay there for a moment, faces inches apart. She smiles, and you do, and there is nothing there but love.

You kiss her again, this time more passionately. This time your tongues find each other, duelling between lips and teeth. Your arms wrap around your neck and she spreads her legs to allow you between them, your body pressing against hers and it all feels so soft and comfortable and safe. It feels like home.

You’re the one to break the kiss this time, and this time there’s no intimate, romantic eye contact. You dive instead into her neck, your lips and mouth finding all the soft, warm spots there that you knew she loved. She sighs softly, her cheek pressed against the side of your ear so the sound that leaves her lips heads straight into your ear. Wordless, breathless, hopefully the first of many.

You kiss a path down her neck, to those collarbones of hers, to the little dip between them that she’s told you the anatomical name of multiple times because you keep forgetting. Because honestly you didn’t care what some 14th century physicist decided to call it. You knew only that it was a part of Hirai Momo, love of your life, and that was it, that was enough.

The silk of her robe stops you from going any further - a flimsy barrier but one nonetheless. You feel her hands lift your head from her upper chest until you are hovering above her, eyes finding and locking with their counterparts. There it is again, that perfect, intense intimacy; an intimacy you’d built over years of dating and a couple of years of marriage, the kind that allows you both the ability to communicate without words. She cradles your head in her hands and she smiles warmly and as corny as it might be there just aren’t any other words to describe it - your heart melts.

Her hands leave your cheeks, and without breaking your gaze she undoes the flimsy knot that keeps her robe together, pulling the folds apart to reveal her body to you.

You remember the first time you saw Hirai Momo naked, all those years ago. You hold that memory pretty close, honestly, because it was one of those moments in your life that you weren’t sure could ever be topped. She was a one night stand, then, the result of one too many glasses of old, expensive grape juice at a bar. That night you seared the sight of her in your mind because that was all she was, all you thought she would be.

Little did you know that she would be who she was, all these years later. You see her practically naked now beneath you and your reaction now is the same as it was back then - sheer, utter, awe.

She is perfect, as she was back then - all curves and valleys and muscle. She’s round breasts with tight nipples and she’s a flat, toned stomach and she’s long, perfect legs that go on forever and feel perfect wrapped around your head or your waist.

She’s as beautiful now as she was then. Even more so, honestly, because of what she is. Not some half-drunk, ill-advised one night stand with a co-worker, no, she is so much more than that. She is your wife, yes, but she is your soulmate, something you weren’t entirely convinced existed outside of fairy tales and silly romance stories written by amateur authors on the internet.

The smile on her lips turns into a giggle. “Stop staring,” she says, “and start fucking.”

It was just like her, just like Momo to turn an intimate moment into something a little less serious and a little more lewd. It was a defense mechanism of hers, you’d come to learn. She wasn’t the most open person with her feelings sometimes, not because she didn’t possess said feelings, but because she wasn’t quite sure how to articulate them. And so she often diffused those situations with humor.

You share a smile, but it softens quickly and becomes something else altogether. The humor becomes passion again.

You dive into her body, first into those wonderful breasts of hers, so round and full and perfect. You take a rosy nipple into your mouth and Momo gasps in response, her back arching off the mattress, taken aback by the feel of your lips and tongue on her when she was expecting you to take the more circuitous route around her chest. Your other hand finds her other breast, not wanting to leave it idle, and soon her gasps turn into soft moans that fill the bedroom.

You take your time on her chest, knowing how good it made her feel, to say nothing of your own desires and needs. She had a body to die for but her chest was something special, and you had no trouble at all lavishing her round mounds and taut nipples with all the attention you both needed.

She’s a squirming, writhing thing now, her legs grinding against your crotch, searching for friction, for relief. Her thighs press against your hips and even while your mouth is latched firmly around a stiff nipple she grabs one of your hands by the wrist and brings it between her legs.

She’s wet and ready and dripping and you never, ever tired of the feel of her on your fingertips, so slick, so hot. You drag a fingertip from her base to her clit and she shudders at the feel of you.

“Fuck,” she gasps, the first full word she’s able to manage in a very long time.

It turns into a longer, drawn out version of the same word moments later when your fingers slide inside her, only a single knuckle deep, two fingers wide. Stretching her, opening her, feeling her wet readiness on your digits. Your fingers continue the same languid pattern, starting at her base and sliding up her slit to her clit, circling the tender bud with your fingertips.

She moans, the sound soft and musical and causing your lips to curl into a smile around her breast. You release the tender bud from between your lips and look up at her, that same smile smug on your face.

“You like that, baby?” you ask - the most rhetorical of questions.

Her eyes, half-lidded in pleasure, tell you what her answer is. She backs up said answer by grasping your head again and crushing your lips with hers. If the first kiss was intimate and the second passionate the third is needy. She tells you with her lips what she cannot articulate with words.

She breaks the kiss, and your heads hover inches apart, eyes locked on each other as your fingers play with the increasingly drenched flesh between her legs. She whimpers and sighs and moans and you watch all of it, watch every quiver of pleasure as it courses through her cheeks and lips. Her eyes shut and flutter open and remain half-lidded and sometimes her brow furrows as though she’s in pain or deep concentration but you know it’s neither, it’s pleasure, it’s wonderful and it’s taking over her body.

Her hand finds your forearm, her nails dig into your arm and it’s almost painful.

“Gonna cum,” she gasps, eyes shut. “Gonna cum.”

“Do it, Momo. Cum for me,” you urge. You find her lips, give her a soft kiss, inhale the moans leaving her lips. Her hips buck, her thighs quiver around your hand. Your fingertips, incessant and merciless, continue to circle her clit, their pace neither increasing or decreasing but staying steady, just the way she liked.

When she cums it is a sight. Her back arches and her mouth opens in a scream that never comes, frozen open. Her nails dig into the skin of your forearm and the sharp pricks of pain are nothing compared to the pleasure you find in helping Momo find her own. You watch, enraptured, as her orgasm courses through her body. She’s quivering and sweaty and dishevelled. You never tired of it. Never would.

When she comes down from it her cheeks are flushed and her hair, her newly cut, blonde waves, cling to the side of her face by matted sweat at her temples.

“Fuck,” she gasps between her teeth. “Fuck.”

You smile. Her hand releases the deathgrip it had on your wrist and your fingers leave her aching clit. She brings your glistening fingertips to the space between your faces and she licks her slick juices from them.

“Fuck me,” she says, inbetween darts of her pink tongue that gather up the wetness on your fingers. “Cum inside me.”

“I will, Momo.”

She gives your fingers one last lick, releases your hand. The intensity in her eyes is clear.

“Breed me.”

What you would have given to see the reaction of your younger self if you’d told that poor schmuck that one day his one night stand would become his wife, would perhaps become the mother of his children. But here you are, and here she is, and you’re married and about to start a family.

You press yourself between her warm, spread thighs and bring your tip to her entrance. You slide your head up and down her slick lips and the contact rips wordless sighs from you both, sighs that turn into deep, primal moans when you finally slide inside her.

She’s wet and hot and tight and every possible adjective in the English language could not fully describe how it felt to be inside Hirai Momo. It felt amazing, better than any other physical sensation you’d ever known. Her legs close around your hips and her arms wrap themselves around your neck and you’re one being. You kiss her, deeply. Your lips leave hers and your faces hover inches apart as you begin to slide and out of her slick, hot cunt.

It’s soft and slow and passionate this time. You both loved the hard, rough sex - Momo herself had been ever keen on adding a hand wrapped tightly around her throat or handcuffs binding her wrists to the headboard - but now was not one of those times. Tonight was about more than that, and the conversation your bodies were having with each other made it clear what this night was really about.

She sighs and moans, wordless, breathless sounds directly into your ear. She loved her dirty talk, but much of it was absent tonight. Often sex in your bedroom was punctuated with filth or demands or name calling.

Tonight there are asks. Requests. Pleas.

“Fuck me, please,” she gasps. “Fuck me, give it to me.”

“I will, Momo. I will.”

“I’ve… I’ve been a good girl, right? I have. I want it. I want your cum. I need it.”

“What do you need, Momo?” you ask, another question that needed no answer. “Tell me what you need.”

“I want, I need,” she says, which were full, adequate sentences in and of themselves - but you knew what you wanted to hear. What you needed to hear.

“What do you need, Momo," you repeat, insistent. "Tell me. I need to hear it, need to hear you say it.”

“I need you to breed me,” she spits, breathless, desperate now, needy. “I want you to cum inside me, fill me up with cum-”

“Fuck, Momo-”

“-breed me, make me a mommy, leave a baby in my tummy baby, baby please-”

“Fuck,” you gasp, tearing your ear from her lips, as though you were afraid if she went on, babbling in your ear, that you’d cum too soon. But you wanted this to last, wanted to draw it out even longer than your usual sessions. You plant your palms on either side of her head and raise your upper body from hers. Throughout it all you are pumping between her spread legs, the silken, slick embrace of her cunt tight around your cock.

Detached somewhat from her, you watch with lewd fascination as her body is rocked by each thrust into her cunt. Her breasts - perfect, round mounds - bounce hypnotically, flesh soft and creamy, taut nipples still glistening with your saliva. Her abs clench and tighten, her thighs flex and work. Your gaze wanders further down, to the spread lips of her pussy, tight and wet and slick. Your cock glistens in the split seconds it spends outside of her body, catching the low light of the bedroom before it is inside her again.

When your eyes return to hers there is an intensity in them that takes you aback. Those were eyes you’d seen often twisten in pleasure, slave to her body’s whims, but now they are serious, intentional, even as they are occasionally shut or half-lidded by a sudden spike of pleasure. But they always open again, always find your gaze and hold it.

“Harder,” she says, the word half-moan and half-gasp. “Please. Fuck me harder.”

Your body moves of its own accord. Your hands, planted on either side of her head, leave the mattress. Sitting on your heels for a moment, you pull her body back towards you, embedding yourself inside her to the hilt and drawing a gasp from her lips. Then your hands find her knees, snaking beneath them and pushing her legs back against her body, folding her almost in half atop the bed.

You lean over her. She is bent in half and with her legs against her arms, knees almost touching her shoulders, she is helpless, unable to do much more than simply take your cock.

You fuck her. hard and merciless, your cock drilling into her body to the deepest parts of her.

“Oh god,” she swears, “oh god, you’re so fucking deep, oh fuck, oh god!”

“Fucking take it, Momo,” you spit between gritted teeth. “Fucking take my cock, take my cum.”

“Yes!” she exclaims, the word leaving her mouth like some natural reaction, some primal response from somewhere in the deepest, darkest parts of her. “Fucking cum inside me, please, cum inside me and give me a baby, breed me, get me pregnant-”

“Jesus,” you hiss, your turn to swear. “God, Momo, you’re so-”

“Fuck, please, breed me, breed me, cum inside me-”

You groan then, something dark and guttural leaving your throat in reaction to the pleas of the needy young woman beneath you. Her cunt flutters and pulsates and every movement either of you make drives you crazy, chases sanity from your mind and replaces it with something altogether scary, something that makes you slave to its whims and desires - the desire to leave a part of you inside this woman, to make her yours in the most primal way possible.

“Momo, I-”

“Inside me, please, please, breed me please-”

“Gonna cum-”

“Give me a baby, breed me please-”

The sight, the feel, the sound - the connection - it’s all too much, and you bury yourself as deep as you can inside Hirai Momo’s quivering, trembling body and let go. Your cock pulsates and spills warm, hot cum inside her, filling her up, leaving her cunt slick and messy, making her yours.

You stay there, frozen, her body still folded in half, feet helpless in the air. Your foreheads touch, the contact somehow grounding the both of you, bringing you both back to Earth, back home. She is still a mess around you, the pleasure still coursing through her body. Your bodies work hard to feed starved lungs. Your sweat drips from your forehead onto hers, another mark of your bond.

You open eyes you hadn’t known you’d closed. And there she is, eyes already finding yours. The softest, most intimate of smiles finds its way onto her lips. You kiss her softly, your lips playing tenderly with each other as you slowly release her legs from her chest. She wraps them around your waist as you settle atop her, your half-hard cock still embedded inside her creamy, messy cunt.

When your kiss breaks you look at each other again, and when she smiles it’s a little softer now, a little less intense.

“Wow,” she says, softly, thereby winning the award for the most understated reaction that night. It brings a smile to your face and it becomes a soft giggle that she returns.

You slowly ease yourself from her body, both of you wincing at the loss of the most intimate of connections. You fall on the bed beside her and she cuddles up to your side, but not before finally ridding herself of her silk robe, now sweaty and messy and in need of a turn in the laundry machine.

You bring her close, and she nuzzles into your neck as your arms wrap around her. You feel her lips curl into a contented, soft smile to mirror the one on your own.

“I hope they’re all like that,” you say, softly, earning a soft murmur of approval from Momo.

“Me too. Doc says we should try every day for the next couple of nights, so…”

“Well if it’s doctor’s orders, I suppose we don’t really have much of a choice.”

Momo raises her head from your neck. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are tired but there is love there. There is love everywhere.

“Mmhmm,” she agrees. “I think we can find a way to make it happen, I suppose. So same time tomorrow?”

“The alarm’s already set.”

You smile. You bring her close. You tell her you love her. She does the same.

----

Author’s Note: This is completely unedited filth that you shouldn’t use as a measure of my writing skill because it’s trash but BFH! BFH! BFH!

Momo too hot.

#twice #twice momo #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut

729 notes · View notes