#I love moral oral | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 6 months

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❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 ❞

❝ I CAN'T BREATHE WITHOUT YOU, BUT I HAVE TO... ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader (canon / multi au)

✧ summary: "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk manga spoilers (236 spoilers), multiple lives, assassin!reader x duke!gojo, actor!gojo x singer!reader, prince!gojo x knight!reader, model!gojo x photographer!reader, oral (f!receiving) in a car, semi-public, making out in public, pantyhose ripping, canon compliant except towards the end, angsty, but also bittersweet / implied happy ending

✧ wc: 6,589

“Do you think we would be together in another life?” you ask, not thinking much of the question, as your fingers draw lazy circles against his bare chest, your head resting right between his shoulder and chest.

Satoru chuckles, vibration against your skin, “Of course we would, sweetheart,” his arms curl around you, tugging you higher, as he gazes up at you, “you think I could live any lifetime without you?” He murmurs, his lips finding yours, “I know we’d find each other, time and time again,”

“How do you know?” your fingers brush against his cheek, shaking as he presses his cheek into your palm, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Because, I love you,” he kisses you again, sweet lips gliding against yours, his breath warming your lips as he parts.

“You did say love is a curse,” you give a small smile, and he presses his forehead to yours.

“Then I’d want you to curse me — in every life.”

“I swear on my life,” you press the dagger to his throat, blade digging into his formerly perfect porcelain skin, drawing scarlet to the surface, “I’ll kill you, Satoru Gojo,”

“I’m flattered to be a target of the infamous blueblood assassin,” his cerulean eyes glinted like stars in the candlelight, flames flickering across his eyes like burning comets, “but I didn’t think you would announce yourself as you did — what if I called for my guards?”

You scoff, fingers flexing against the hilt of your dagger, “Then you would be dead before you uttered even a single sound and do you think I left your guards to chance? All of that schooling to be a duke and you haven’t learned a single thing have you?”

“And what have I done to end up as your target?” he hums — as you bit back a sigh stuck in your throat — you preferred your marks to be much less chatty, but all he had was his mouth you supposed, “you only target the rich and the corrupt — and while I may fit the former, I do not fit the latter,”

“You’re certainly sure of yourself,” and he’s unfazed by your reply, as his eyes wander the only thing visible of your expression — your eyes.

“Since you have not stated my crime, I can only assume that I’ve committed none, and the infamous assassin whose morals could not be compromised have been,” and your grip wavers a moment, and he takes advantage of your hesitance to disarm you, and pin you to a nearby chaise all before the clatter of your blade hitting the marble floor, “and now what’s an assassin’s price who has done all of this for no reward?”

“How do you know I’ve done this for no reward?” you squirm in his grip, but it’s ironclad, and you know all too well he could have broken from your grasp at any point, but he had chosen not to — your heartbeat roars in your ears as one question repeats again and again stuck between beats — why? “I very well may have taken a payment you don’t know of — you act as if you know of me,”

“Because I do,” the heir replies with a simple smile, “I have followed your work for a long time, and I found myself fascinated with what you do — and why you do it,”

“Honored to have caught your attention,” you say in mock reverence, your arm beginning to ache, “now do you plan to call your guards?”

“Didn’t know you were so eager to die,” he stares still, as you turn your head away from his piercing gaze, “shouldn’t you keep your eyes on your target or now your captor?”

“Do you ever shut up?” You mumble as you flinch as you squirm under his grip, sleeve riding up ever so slightly — and then he sees it. His eyes narrow, as his hand grasps at your wrist now, “hey! Don’t—“

In a moment his fingers nearly rip the fabric of your tunic to tug your sleeve up — angry red cuts and purple bruises litter your arm. Your breath catches as his eyes stare for several moments before sliding back to you — no longer a placid pool but a raging ocean.

“Who did this to you?” he says quietly, and you’re blinking, nearly slack jawed, as you try to rip your arms away, but he won’t let you, “who is it? Is it the same person who told you to kill me?”

“Stop—“

“Is it the same person who’s taken someone important to you?” and you grit your teeth in silence, “is it the little orphan you adopted? Yuji?”

And your eyes snap to his, “How do you know this? Who are you?”

His lips curl, “You told me yourself, I’m Satoru Gojo,” and his fingers brush your cheek, “it’s a shame you don’t remember where we first met — because I never forgot,”

You furrow your brow, “What are you talking about? I think I’d remember you. You’re…” you jerk your head, eyes looking him up and down — lingering on his white hair and eyes, “distinct,”

“Well what if I had black hair and green eyes, would you remember then?” And he whispers your name in your ear, and you pause, “the fireworks were nothing compared to you,”

And your breath catches — “You? But—“

“I had snuck out, had a disguise and everything, and I had planned to explore the festival alone but who do I find but you?” His grip on you loosens only to pull you a little closer, “the girl who had stolen two steamed buns and pinned me with part of the blame, making me run after you—“

“You didn’t have to run—“ and he snorted.

“Well, it was that or get caught sneaking out — so I chose the lesser of two evils,” you can’t help it, your fingers trace the curve of his jaw to the back of his ear, “are you seeing if I’m defective?” And you find it.

“No, he—“ you stop yourself, “you had gotten a small cut right behind your ear, it was deep enough that it would have left a scar behind,” and he had gotten a small cut from one of the soldiers who had grabbed them, bucking him with his sword, before you wrenched him out of there. The two of you spent the rest of the night eating food and sneaking around guards. And then finally climbing up on a rooftop to watch the fireworks.

“How did you—“

“One of my father’s advisers found me later that night, in exchange for never sneaking out again without telling him, he said he would keep tabs on you,”

You have no words, but one left — “why?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “maybe it was because I’ve been surrounded by nothing but my family’s yes-men, and you were the one person who treated me like a person, maybe it was the fact that day was the only day I actually had fun,” and he glances at you, “or maybe it was because I was drawn to you,”

And you snort a little, “Do you believe in that fates nonsense they fed all of us as kids?”

“I think fate is a very real thing, and I think it’s up to us to seize it,” he releases you, holding your hand before bending to press the barest brush of his lips against the back of your hand, “so, will you seize it or continue to evade your fate?”

“We’ll never be able to evade the press if you do this,” you whisper, as he presses you against a wall of a secluded pillar of whatever place they had chosen to have this awards show, “and our teams will definitely chew us out if we don’t make an—ah,” you gasp, as his teeth nip at your neck, “Satoru, don’t leave a mark,”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he licks his lips, as he leans up, his normally messy white locks combed and parted to the side, his lips kiss bitten red from the liplock he had you in for the last ten minutes, and his white suit slightly ruffled and pressed against you, “you taste so sweet,” his thumb runs down your puffy lips, “and the desserts tonight sucked,”

You chuckle, your fingers toying with the hair resting against his undercut, “Think you would have been pleased with receiving the award for best actor, is that not enough Mr. Gojo?”

“The only thing that pleases me is my gorgeous wife’s singing and,” his lips find yours in a desperate kiss, and you could taste the fruity mocktail he had earlier on his lips, “and her moans when she’s under me,” his hand slides under your dress, dragging over your pantyhose clad thighs, “do you think anyone would notice if you came back without these?”

“Yes, I do,” you gasp as he tugs at the delicate fabric, “Toru, we shouldn’t—” but your pleas are half-hearted, as his lips drift to press butterfly kisses up your jaw, “you deserve me insane,”

“I know,” he chuckles, “that’s why you love me,” and you hum, your noses brushing before you meet lips again, “I love you so much,”

Your fingers cup his cheek, as he leaned into your touch, “I love you too — don’t you want to enjoy all the accolades, the interviews, the congratulations? You won such a big award, Toru, I want you to celebrate,”

“I am celebrating,” he grins, tilting his head, “I’m surprised at you, princess — and you’re the smart one between the two of us,” he teases, as he turns his head to kiss your palm, “in an entire ballroom full of people in there and all the places in the world, there’s no one place I rather be with than here with you.”

“How did I end up stuck with you?” you grumbled, your armor weighing on you heavier than other days, as you stood in front of your prince — the little sun of this kingdom and the future king, the man you were sworn to protect for the rest of your earthly days, and your best friend, for better for worse, “if the fates have written it, I must have done something horrid in a past life,”

“Do you really believe in that garbage?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, as he places his sword down from practice, waiving off his training partner, as he wipes off his sweat with a towel offered by a maid, “You know that stuff they fed to us so we wouldn’t throw tantrums during classes — so we didn’t turn into slugs for our next life,”

“Why turn into one when you are one already?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes, as he runs his hand through his hair.

“Has a slug ever looked this good before?” and you roll your eyes.

“Think your ego is going to be so large by the time you become king, your crown won’t sit atop your head correctly,” you sigh, rising to your feet, “now we must get you cleaned and dressed, you have a meeting with the—”

“I actually cleared my schedule for the rest of the day,” and you blink, frowning.

“His Majesty will not—”

“His Majesty will be fine — old man hasn’t kicked the bucket over the last fifty things I’ve done — I doubt this will be more than a ten minute lecture on decorum, fifteen if I decide to poke the bear,” he throws you a grin, as he pulls on a fresh shirt, “come, I have something to show you,”

“Show me?” you repeat, before his hand finds yours — his hands are smooth despite the constant swordplay and practice he put in — he supposed he owed that to the royal staff, tending to his looks as much as they did his health. The same could not be said about yours — riddled with cuts and calluses alike. Your cheeks burned as your unkempt hand held his — “your highness, this is—”

“‘Your Highness?’” he repeats, throwing you a smirk over his shoulder, “when have you ever called me that?”

The appearance of holding your hand as he pulled you down several hallways through the palace was beginning to attract the attention of several gawking onlookers. Your cheeks burn — and you’re not sure if it's from the stares, his words, or the fact he was still holding your hand as you both arrive outside his chambers. But you can’t stop him — but you never could stop him when it came to this, could you? It reminded you of the times he dragged you through the gardens, wanting to show you the rabbits’ hidey hole he had found in the corner of the royal gardens.

“Well I was made an official royal guard and appointed as your personal guard yesterday so I thought a little professionalism—” he unlocks his door, turning to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips.

“There’s no need for decorum between us, now is there?” his fingers find a stray strand of your hair, and presses his lips to it, as he opens his door. You glance inside to find a lovely decorated cake and a present wrapped perfectly on the table, “Happy birthday, sweetheart,”

“What—but—” and your mind realizes the date, “how did you—”

“You think I’d ever forget your birthday?” he tilts his head, as your eyes slide to him, “it’s the day we met,”

It was — the day you were brought from your home with your father who had been the king’s royal guard for many years, you were brought to be the prince’s — but you didn’t know you would find more than that in him.

“I didn’t know you did this for your personal staff,” you teased, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, “I certainly can’t imagine what they would think of you inviting a woman to your room for it,”

“Well, you are my personal guard, you’re here to personally guard me against anything, right?” and this was the nature of your relationship wasn’t it? Teasing and goading — toeing that line of proprietary before one of you eased off.

“It seems like I need to guard you only against yourself, your highness,”

“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes sliding to you, as he says your name with a softness that you wished he wouldn’t, “you had no issue calling me that before,”

“We were only friends then, I’m your guard now—“

“Do you kiss all your friends?” And your cheeks flare, as your gaze refuses to meet his.

“That was—a mistake,” you whisper the last two words, “we can’t do this—“

“Why not?” You turn away, your eyes sliding to the cake, a frown pulling on your lips.

“Because you have a duty to your people and I have a duty to you,” and his fingers find your shoulder gently, giving you leave to pull away — but you can’t, you couldn’t.

“My only duty I desire is the one to you—I love my people, but I can’t be the king they deserve if you’re not the one beside me,” your gaze still cast downward, “I will cast away any responsibility, if I could have a chance with you, sweetheart—“

“The king has discussed your engagement with me,” you murmur, “he told me he plans to have you engaged with a princess from a neighboring—“ And his arm is wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer — your gaze lost in the endless blue skies of his eyes, “we can’t—“

“I’ll find a way,” and you scoff.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you mutter, and his warm palm slides against your cheek.

“This isn’t me promising to find a unicorn when we were five, Princess,” and you chuckle at the thought of his child self trudging into the woods with carrots in hand and what he thought was fairy dust (it was ladies’ finishing powder), “I swear that we’ll be together,” and he reaches into his pocket, and holds a small box, opening it to reveal a beautiful infinity pendant, “and this is my promise,”

You bite your lip, staring at the silver glinting in the sunlight trickling in from the windows, “Satoru—“

“Finally giving in?” And you sigh.

“How can you be sure we’ll be together?” He chuckles, as he gently turns you, making you face the mirror in his room as he places the necklace delicately around your neck, his fingers brushing against the skin of your neck before he clasps it. His arms slowly slide around your middle as he meets your gaze in your reflection, lips curling.

His lips press a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Because I know I’d choose you, again and again.”

“Why did they choose him as my model again?” You groaned as you looked at the list, tossing it back on your desk, “he’s so impossible to work with—“

“The shoots are finished quick—“ your boss replies gruffly, as he stands with his hands in his pockets, “and he said he’d only shoot with you. Said he likes your work and you’re the only one who can ‘capture the real him,’ some crap like that,” he shrugs.

“Yaga, I can’t keep dealing with this man, can’t he shoot with anyone else?”

He sighs, scratching the back of his head, “Look, the magazine we’re working with chose him as the model, and he said he would only do the shoot if you did it,”

You sigh, leaning on your palm, elbow against your desk. “you’re not giving me a choice are you?”

And no, he wasn’t.

Because now you were at the studio for the sight of the shoot, getting everything ready that you could before your model arrived. You made sure his preferred makeup artist and hairstylist were available, you picked out his favorite snacks, got his preferred lighting (to be adjusted when he was on set), and had your cameras adjusted for his light sensitivity.

All of which reduced the amount of time you had to spend with this man — but not even the most divine snacks would stop him from running his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” you turned to see him, “miss me?”

“When pigs fly, maybe,” but your words don’t faze him, a mock pout on his lips, “why do you request me to do your shoots, Gojo?”

“Because it’s the only way you’ll see me,” and you sigh, as you continue to adjust your camera again, “you still haven’t given me a chance—“

“I gave you one chance, wasn’t that enough?” Before you turn to him, “look, I’m here because I have to be. I want to shoot — get in and get out and not have to—“

“One chance to talk to you — please, even if you don’t believe me or forgive me—“

“Fine,” you shake your head, frustrated, “go finish the shoot and we can talk for five minutes after,” and maybe he would stop forcing you into this situation.

Satoru Gojo was the top wanted model by all the agencies — agencies were looking to snipe him and others were looking to have exclusive deals with him — whether it was photography businesses or brands.

You couldn’t blame them, as you adjusted your lights and took a few test shots — he was gorgeous, even by model standards. From his skin to his body to his attitude, it was effortless for him. Even a bad angle or bad lighting did very little to detract from his flawless look.

The chiseled cut of his jaw put statues to shame, his eyes shone brighter than the shiniest gemstones, his charm the envy of the love goddess herself, and his smile was enough to change hearts and minds alike.

The shoots always look little time — the part that took the most time was choosing the best shots — you’d love to take one bad picture of him. Even for yourself — but that had proved impossible. Even deprived of sleep in the hours of the early morning, he was perfect.

Perfect — except for his loyalty, you supposed.

How had it gone so wrong so fast? And how did you let yourself become so carried away that you thought you were different from the others he bedded?

And the shoot was over in a moment, and just like he said, Satoru was by your side as you begin to break down the equipment, as the other staff filed out, “can we talk now?”

“If you have to,” you would give him an ear, but it didn’t mean you’d give him anything else.

“I never cheated on you—“

“Bullshit,” you reply, as you pick up the tripod you set up, “I guess you didn’t the full five minutes,”

“No, I didn’t—what you saw—“

“I saw you kissing another girl all over social media—“

“You saw me with Suguru,” he sighs, “and we weren’t kissing — we were hugging. You thought it was kissing from the angle of the picture, and before I could explain, you had blocked me on everything,”

You pause, “Suguru?” You repeat, as you pull out your phone and pull up the picture — black hair, hair half up, and they could have been hugging. And Satoru pulls out his own phone and shows you a selfie he took that same day, the meta data matching, “oh, oh fuck,”

“Was that an apology? Not familiar with those coming out of your mouth so—“

“Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I saw the pictures and I heard the rumors and I assumed the worst of you,” you run your fingers through your hair, “even though I knew you better than that,”

“You did, but I understand why you thought that,” he shrugged, “we had only been seeing each other for a month, but it meant something to me,” his voice softens.

“To me too,” you shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Satoru. I don’t know how to make it up to you,”

“I know,” he smiles, “have dinner with me,”

You blink. “why?”

“What do you mean, sweetheart? Everyone eats dinner, it’s a—“

“Satoru,” you sigh, “I didn’t believe you, I didn’t trust you, how can you forgive me like that? How could you want to be with someone like that?”

“Well, you made a mistake — you forgave me for the other mistakes I made during our time together, and if I hadn’t let my team convince me that my fake reputation as a playboy would help sell my image — maybe we wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with,” his fingers brush against yours, “besides, I want to believe in second chances — because I’d want to believe you’d give me one too,”

Your fingers intertwine with his, “Even when I don’t deserve it?”

And he lifts your hand to his lips, blue eyes glinting like an ocean dabbled in sunlight, “All the more for you make up for, right?”

This wasn’t right. No. No.

“Satoru, Toru, please,” your fingers cupped his face, your fingers smeared with his blood as Maki pulled gou away, “no, no!” You don’t remember screaming, but you know you did because your throat was raw, your tears streaming down your face as your hands shook, staring at the dried blood on your fingers.

He promised you he would win. He promised you he would come back. He promised you a life, a family, a home — something beyond jujutsu.

And now you were left with nothing but that.

“I’ll come back,” he had murmured in your ear the night before, his fingers tracing your cheek, “there’s no way I won’t. Have you ever seen me lose?”

You give a small chuckle, “You just got trapped in a box for almost twenty days?” And he pouts, as he tilts your head up, fingers sliding against your cheek.

“It was a one time fluke, sweetheart,” and his lips grazing your lips, “and I’m here now aren’t I?” you hum, “and I’ll always be there,”

“In every life?” He smiles.

“In every one.”

In every one — except this one.

“One would think you’re helpless, if you pout like that,” you teased, as you crawl into bed beside him, a smile on your lips, as he tugs you steadfast into his arms, “it’s only been a few minutes,”

“It felt like a lifetime,” he presses a kiss to your head, “Is he asleep?” And you nod, a sigh on your lips as you settle into bed.

“After about twenty minutes of arguing, he passed out while I was telling him a story. He’s still not accustomed to this mansion,” neither were you — you had spent a few nights lying awake after jerking from the clutches of sleep — the paranoia still rampant in your mind. But those thoughts were a little farther now as you lie against his chest, heart thrumming under your body — the very heart you were meant to stop, and a chuckle escapes your lips.

“What is it?” He raises an eyebrow, and you shake your head.

“Why did you help me?” You draw circles on his chest, “you had every reason not to,” your fingers traced a line across his neck, “I even held a knife to your neck,”

“And that was very attractive,” and you roll your eyes, “what? I like a woman who takes charge,”

“Oh I know,” you chuckle, your lips pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “but I still don’t understand — you had every reason to distrust me, we barely knew each other, and yet—“

“You were still the girl I fell in love with that night,” he murmurs, “I just knew you were something special and when I saw what you were doing — trying to uproot corruption, I knew I was right. And I knew I had to make you my duchess,”

“Well I’m not your wife yet,” you tease, the words barely out of your mouth before he’s got you pinned under him, “Toru—“

“Now, I told you I was going to seize my fate when I saw it,” and he kisses you, stealing every thought from your mind and every breath from your body, his touch filling you with warmth in return, “and I see it right in front of me,”

“And what does it look like?” you smile against his lips, as he leans down to kiss you again.

“Bright.”

“Is it just me or do these paparazzi lights get brighter and brighter each time?” you rub your eyes as the two of you slide into your car for the night, the driver setting off towards your home.

“I don’t know, I was too busy being blinded by my gorgeous wife,” and Satoru’s hands are all but under your dress, sliding up and down your sides, before one cups your cheek, “did i mention how incredible you look, sweetheart?”

You hum, “about a million times,” your fingers slide against his shoulders until he’s practically lying on top of you against these leather seats.

“That’s a million times too little — you look incredible, sweetheart. This dress was made for you,” and his lips taste as sweet as his words, your fingers sliding into his snowy locks while his slide against your bare thighs, “and I can’t wait to take it off when we get home,”

“You’re going to take it off now if your hands slide any further up,” he draws a shiver from you as his hands do just that, daring further up your thighs, “Toru—“

“Don’t worry, the partition is up and it’s just you and me, sweetheart,” and he’s sinking to his knees on the floor, as his hands slide up your dress, “just keep your voice down, don’t want anyone hearing my wife, do we?” And his lips are grazing your inner thigh, his smirk against your skin, “good thing I relieved you of those pantyhose, huh?”

“Toru,” you whined, as his fingers parted your thighs, and he could see your all too soaked panties, a damp patch and the fabric nearly translucent while it clung to your clit, “please—“

“So needy — and now that mouth of yours is being as honest as this one,” his lithe fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties to expose your cunt, “all this f’me? Been like this since our make out earlier? Surprised I didn’t see your cum drip down your legs,”

And his words make you squirm, “Satoru, I swear to god—“ and his lips kiss your clit, as two fingers tease at your entrance, gathering your pre on his fingertips.

“You don’t have to call me god, Princess — just Satoru is fine,” he murmurs as his lips close around your clit, as his fingers work inside your walls, a delicious stretch that draws a pretty gasp from your lips, your head falling back against the leather headrest.

The sounds of the squelch of your cunt and the slurping of his lips against your clit rang in your ears — your fingernails digging into the seat as your other hand clamped over your lips.

“That’s it, just like that, Princess,” his tongue darts out to drag circles around your clit, while his fingers find the spot that makes you see stars.

“I’m—“ you manage, before you’re cumming around his fingers and lips, your toes curling as you do, head back against the headrest. Your eyes find him to see him looking all too perfect even ruffled, as his lips were glossy with your release, tongue darting out to clean it, before he licked his fingers one by one.

“And you were worried about the paparazzi noticing your missing pantyhose,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, a smirk against your mouth, “let’s hope no one saw that,”

And there’s a sharp rap on the window, “Sir and madam? We’ve arrived,” and his lips quirk, as he adjusts your clothes, cleaning your smudged lipstick with his thumb, as you reach up to wipe his lips where the lipstick had gone.

“Shall we celebrate my win properly?” He opens the door and slides out of the car, holding out his hand for yours.

“As we always do?” And your fingers find his, as he presses his lips to the back of your palm.

“Always, Princess.”

“Are you ready yet, Princess?” Your Prince’s arms slid around your waist, his lips already at your neck, as his ocean blues met your gaze in the mirror, “how lucky is our kingdom to have such a lovely future queen? And how much luckier am I to have her as my wife?”

“We do not know if the people will approve of me still, Toru,” you murmur, eyes shying away from his, your fingers finding the infinity around your neck, “you promised me forever, but will they grant it to us?”

“Do you have such little faith, sweetheart, in your future husband?” His fingers find your chin, tilting it upwards to meet your gaze, “I’ve already done the impossible — I charmed you over the last two decades haven’t I?”

“More like wore me down,” and he pinches your cheek, before he presses a kiss to the affronted skin, “re-defined the long game,” and he kisses your nose, “and stole my heart and soul while I wasn’t looking,”

“I never steal,” he smiles that same smile that was emblazoned in your memory all those years ago, when he emerged from the woods with not a unicorn, but a baby fawn he had frightened from very same thicket, “I only take what was given to me,” he smiles, “and you willingly handed over your heart the moment you let me into your life,”

“What was I thinking?” you murmur, cupping his cheek, “now I’ll have to deal with the politics of a kingdom for the rest of my days,”

His lips curl widely, as his lips find yours, a heat that simmers into passion and then into simple love, “I promise, in exchange, I’ll spend the rest of my days making you the happiest you’ve ever been,”

“The happiest, huh?” you murmur, foreheads pressed together, “that’s a tall order, so you think you can do it?”

“I know I can,” he smiles, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, “because I’ll never trying to make you happy, Princess.”

“You’re far too happy with this arrangement,” you say through the door, arms crossed as you pressed your back against it, “I don’t want to come out,”

“You agreed to this, c’mon sweetheart, you’ve taken countless pictures of me—“

“You’re a model — it’s literally your job,” you glare at him through the door, “I’m behind the camera — not in front of it,”

“But you’re just as beautiful in front of it as you are behind it,” and you can hear his pout through the door, “if you really don’t want to, sweetheart, I won’t make you—“

And the door opens, your lips curled in a pout as you emerge in a cerulean gown — the same color as his eyes, the very same that widened upon seeing you.

“Was this necessary?” you squirm in place, as he bites his lip, eyes raking over you, “Toru—“

And he’s in front of you in an instant, his arms winding aaaaaaaaround your waist, “I want to kiss you so badly, but I’ll mess up your makeup,” your breath catches, so his finger brushes against your lips and presses it to his own lips, a little of your lipstick sticking to his lips.

“Toru,” and his lips quirk at the nickname, “why do you want to take pictures of me?”

“Because, I want pictures of you that are just for me,” he gently takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your wrist, “because I’ll never have this moment with you again, but I’ll have these pictures with you,”

“And when do I get pictures that are of you and just for me?” And he presses a kiss to your head.

“Anytime you want,” he murmurs, “we have all the time in the world, don’t we?”

Time — that was the one thing Satoru Gojo always lacked. It felt as if his whole life was an hourglass, waiting for the sand to run out — and the one time it came close, blood seeping like sand through his neck, he was able to turn it on its head, until time was on his side agai.

He wasn’t sure if time was on his side now.

He could only see the winter sky above — flecks of white he could think were snow but never be sure if that was his vision going blurry. He couldn’t feel anything — but he heard the all too distant squelch of his blood against the ground, the sounds of footsteps, the feeling of his body being lifted, a smile still on his face.

He was going home — the one person who always made his world right side up — the only person who could catch the sand that slipped between his fingers and hold it between warm palms. He forced his body to keep running — to keep going, the flow of cursed energy may have come from the stomach and his brain may be able to power his reversed curse technique — but that didn’t compare to his will to make it home — make it to you.

“Toru! Satoru!” he couldn’t will his eyes to open, only managing the barest flutter of his eyelids, “it’s okay, Shoko’s got you, I got you,” you murmur, a soft brush that must but your lips.

Love was always the most twisted curse of them all — and he knew it had always been a curse to love him. Anyone drawn into his orbit seemed only doomed to fall around him — whether it was by their choice, his choice, or fate’s choice.

Fate. That was a word he never had put a lot of stock into. Suguru always said there was a certain order to things — sorcerers were made to defend humans, and that was our duty. He had replied that fate was an excuse for people too afraid to challenge the status quo.

Maybe Suguru took that too seriously.

When Suguru defected — Satoru knew something had to change — he couldn’t let others go even when they had that blue spring. The time that he had stayed frozen in — even as everyone else left, he still lived in those moments, and so he barely lived in the present at all.

Not until you had shattered his self made prison.

And it wasn’t without difficulty.

He told you so many times that it was dangerous to love him, it was foolish to love a person like him with a constant target on their back because inevitably the target would shift to you. And he didn’t want to live in a world without you — but he could choose to, as long as you were the one who would live.

But you were steadfast in your love, roots cracking through concrete until he was covered in your ivy, entangled so deep that there was no escape—because one look from you had stolen his reservations out from under him. Because loving you was as simple as breathing — it just was.

“I would want you to curse me — in every life.”

That’s what he told you the night before this battle — because he knew if he didn’t make it in this life, maybe he could be with you in the rest of them. But how many days would it take until you couldn’t remember the sound of his laugh, the smile on his lips, the way his face looked — because he always feared the same about outliving you. He would only want to outlive you, if only because he didn’t want you to have to bear the pain of outliving him.

Love was twisted, he thought — as your lips brushed his, he could hear you whisper sweet nothings, falling on deaf ears, but heard all the same — once one found it, they cannot live without it — until they have to.

His eyes flutter open, and he sees the blurry image of your face, scarlet smeared on your face, as his hand shakily lifted to your cheek, “I love you, sweetheart,” he manages barely a whisper, “I’ll see you again, I promise.”

Maybe he did curse you in the end — because your souls were bound together in existence — to fall into each other’s orbit and live together happily in every lifetime—

Your fingers gently shut his eyes closed, as tears streamed from your own — except in this one.

“Is it really a curse to meet you again?” you had murmured that early morning, as dawn peaked over Tokyo, and his lips brushed against yours, “sounds like a blessing,”

“You know that blessings often wear disguises — and words like that always carry a price—” but his lips curl, “but if the price is to meet you and fall in love again and again, I suppose I could pay it.”

“‘Suppose?’” you repeat, and he laughs at your immediate pout.

He kisses away your pout, as you slowly melt into his kiss, “Y’know I’d pay any price to fall in love with you again, sweetheart”

You smile, “Just stay with me in this one, that would be enough.”

Did other lives matter when this was the only one he had fallen for you in this life? He wanted to stay with you here — in this moment, in this time — he wanted you in every life — not just all the others.

And he vowed that he would— his fingers twitched—

He would love you in this life too.

✧ a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this one!! i had a lot of fun writing it. it might not be everyone's cup of tea but hey, i enjoyed it. although i questioned my writing ability a lot while writing it lmao

✧ taglist: @gojolova4eva, @xxemmarldxx, @gojolvrr34, @lilbrubby, @jaixxxsc, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @elaemae, @gojonegs, @captain-shittykawa, @sillyrabbitreads, @akumicchi, @satorustorm, @equikaz, @imaginativeghorl, , @dhoranbolt, @strawmariee, @catsgomurp, @that-goth-bisexual, @fushitoru, @dazailover1900

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hoshifighting · 2 months

Text

Villain! Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After facing constant rejection from your own boyfriend, you discover he’s a superhero flying around the city. Seungcheol, the so-called 'villain,' stepped in when you were left as bait, exposed to your boyfriend's enemies. It turns out, he's the one who truly took care of you. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: fantasy, angst, smut, crack, cigarettes, stalking (for good), physical fights, injury, murder, death (not the reader, not seungcheol), paranormal elements (superpowers, misshapenness, telepathy, and floating), moral ambiguity (unclear distinctions between "heroes" and "villains"), sex toys, oral (f. & m.), getting caught masturbating, cock riding, edging, creampie, DIRTY TALK.

You’ve dated a guy from the basketball team in high school, a guy from the cafeteria you used to frequent, and had your flings with… normal people. Gym rats or those who sang at the local bar.

But never... a hero?

He was kind, and romantic, and treated you well—in the beginning of your relationship. But then he became distant, always desperate to go home at night, barely sleeping at your apartment. You thought about a whirlwind of things, like a normal person would think of; that he was cheating on you, that he had stopped loving you.

Tonight, you’re making dinner—a last-ditch effort to please him, to make him notice you again. The TV in the living room is tuned to the news, the background noise almost comforting. You chop vegetables with precise, almost robotic movements, your mind drifting.

“He’s probably just busy,” you mutter to yourself, trying to believe it. But it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in your chest.

Just then, a headline on the TV catches your attention. You glance up, expecting to see something mundane. Maybe an officer, a firefighter, or even a regular person with good sociology. Instead, you see your boyfriend, wearing a red hero cape, flying around the city. The spatula in your hand falls directly onto the ground, clattering loudly.

[Hero is seen flying between skyscrapers to make the city of Seoul increasingly safer.]

“What the...?” Your heart races as you stare at the screen, unable to believe your eyes.

Your boyfriend, the man you’ve been worrying over, is a fucking superhero? Just like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy?

The front door opens and he walks in, looking tired but carrying the same gentle smile that used to make your heart flutter. Tonight, though, it only fuels your confusion and frustration.

“Hey, babe,” he says, stepping into the kitchen. He pauses when he sees your expression, the dropped spatula. “What’s wrong?”

You point at the TV, unable to form words. He follows your gaze, and his face falls as he sees the news footage.

“Ah, you found out,” he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

[...]

This is how it started. It's as if, when you didn't know, he still made a point of being present here and there. But now that you know, he doesn't even care about it anymore. “I have to save the country, love,” you’ve heard this a bunch of times.

So when you turn on the TV, you have to see him flexing those stupid big muscles—that he gained out of nowhere—making you doubt if he’s using padding or prosthetics under that cheesy costume.

He shouldn’t be seen around your house, so the 'villains' don’t know where you live.

You don't recognize him anymore. Was it egotistical to wish that he never had superpowers? That he was just a regular human, just like you?

"Hey," his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. He's standing in the doorway, looking worn out but with a familiar, almost hesitant smile. "I brought takeout. Thought we could have a quiet night in."

You glance at the food in his hands, your heart aching. "A quiet night in? Like the ones we used to have?"

He sighs, setting the bags down on the table. "Yeah, like those. I know things have been... different. But I'm trying, Y/N. I really am."

"Trying?" you repeat, incredulous. "You disappear for days, and when you’re here, it’s like you’re not really here. You're always thinking about the next mission, the next villain."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "The powers, the responsibility... it just happened."

"Did it?" you snap, unable to hold back your frustration. "Because it feels like you chose this. Like you chose being a hero over being with me."

His eyes widen, pain flickering across his face. "That's not true. I didn't choose this over you. I chose this because... because I want to make the world a better place. For us."

You shake your head, "But what about making our world better? What about being here, with me? Being present?"

As you sit down to eat, the TV plays in the background, another heroic feat being broadcasted. You hesitate, looking at the man you once knew so well, now feeling like a stranger.

With great insistence, you managed to make him sleep in your bed. When you left the bath to join him in your sheets, he was already sleeping—hibernating, snoring like never before. You sigh, laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You stayed like this until you saw the perfect clouds through the window, fluffy, looking like cotton candy, with the blue sky painting a canvas behind them. It was a beautiful morning.

You don’t remember leaving the window open, so you get up to close it, stopping the wind from hitting your face. The sun was radiating, and you could see people enjoying their morning. But still... why do you feel this smell of storm coming?

The water started to flow, not from the sky, but from your eyes—your tears. The next storm is the one inside you, making small whirlwinds and huge hurricanes, carrying you and destroying you. Obviously, your boyfriend wasn't home. His smell wasn’t there, his presence was like bills payable, only at the end of the month.

You made your bed, some of your tears ruining the perfect white duvet. You walked around your kitchen, picking up the single coffee mug on your countertop and washing it.

Your coworkers noticed your face—like you had slept nothing last night—and even asked what was happening. How could you explain this? How could you explain that you were dating a guy for some years, and he turned into a superhero—flying around the city with underwear over the costume?

Of course, they would laugh, not only because it's the biggest turnoff they will ever have seen, but also because they would think it's a joke, a badly told joke. It makes you feel even more stupid for being complicit, an extra in his comic book.

You arrive home. You look at the window, open again. You roll your eyes, closing it to prevent the wind from coming in. “Are you flying through my windows now?” you mumble, half expecting an answer.

You wonder if you should watch the news again, and see your boyfriend flex his muscles in front of the pretty journalist, putting out a fire in an establishment, looking at the camera to see if they've captured his heroic act, or when he carried a mail car with one arm in front of a group of girls who were walking on the sidewalk.

You cringe, remembering all of them.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you plop down and grab the remote. You flick through the channels, each news report showing another heroic deed of his. "Great," you mutter sarcastically, landing on a channel where he’s giving an interview, his muscles practically bursting out of his suit.

He’s talking about his latest rescue, grinning at the journalist who’s batting her eyelashes at him. "And what’s next for our hero?" she asks, her voice sugary sweet.

"I’m just here to help," he replies, flashing a charming smile. "Wherever I’m needed."

You snort, turning off the TV. "Right, wherever you're needed. Except here," you say to the empty room.

You wander into the kitchen, the silence pressing in on you. You fill the kettle and set it to boil, needing something warm to soothe your frayed nerves. As you wait, you think about the early days, when he was just a guy you loved. Back when his biggest concern was making you laugh, not saving the world.

The kettle whistles, and you pour yourself a cup of tea, the steam rising in lazy spirals. You take a sip, leaning against the counter. "Why can’t you just be normal?" You whisper to yourself.

A sudden whoosh of air makes you jump, causing your hand to bump into the kettle. The same speed you touched it, you yank your hand back, a little burn forming. It’s nothing too serious, but enough to make you curse under your breath.

Your boyfriend widens his eyes and rushes over. “Let me help you,” he says, reaching for your hand.

“Fuck off,” you snap, pulling away. “I don’t need your help.”

He frowns, clearly hurt. How can someone not want his help? “I’m just trying to help.” his voice laced with exasperation.

Irritated by everything and the little burn on your hand, you cut him off. “What are you going to do, huh? Use lasers from your eyes?” You turn to the sink, running cold water over your hand.

“You’re always complaining,” he starts, his voice rising. “But you’re so difficult to deal with lately.”

You whip around, glaring at him. “Difficult? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

He crosses his arms, his expression turning snobbish. “And it’s a walk in the park for me? I’m out there saving lives.”

“Yeah, and flexing your muscles for the cameras,” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He narrows his eyes. “You’re never supportive. All you do is whine about how hard your life is.”

You feel your blood boil. “Supportive? How can I be supportive when you’re never here? When you act like being a hero is the only thing that matters?”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Because it does matter! I’m making a difference.”

“And what about us?” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “What about making a difference here, with me?”

He looks at you, anger and confusion on his face. “I’m trying to balance it, but you’re making it impossible.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You know what? I wish you never turned into a hero. I wish you never had these stupid superpowers. I preferred it when you were just human, like me.”

He scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to be weak like you humans anymore. You’re just jealous when you should be cheering for me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Jealous? Is that really what he thinks? “Jealous?” you echo. “I’m not jealous. I just miss the person you used to be.”

He shakes his head, looking away. “I’m still that person. You’re just too blind to see it.”

"Blind? Are you fucking serious?" you scoff, turning your back to him. "Leave," you grunt.

He furrows his eyebrows, shocked. Never in your relationship did he think he would see you like this—his cute girlfriend who begged for him to stay just one more minute, asking him to leave?

"I'm not going to repeat it," you say coldly. "You're making me feel sick."

"Fuck you then!" he curses under his breath before he storms out, leaving you stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

"Oof, I wouldn't let him get away with it if I were you."

You turn toward the voice, coming from the window—that one that you had to close again even though you already did in the morning.

A man is sitting there with the help of the fire escape stairs outside the building. He’s dressed all in black, and you can’t even distinguish how many layers of clothing he’s wearing. His hair is black, and he has one eyebrow raised as he smokes a cigarette.

People react differently when scared. Some scream, some run. But you… you feel like your feet are glued to the ground, and from your throat, not a sound escapes. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as your eyes widen in shock.

He doesn’t seem to care. He drops his cigarette, watching it accidentally fall on someone’s head below.

He hisses, "Ooh, sorry about that." Then he jumps from the window, landing gracefully in your living room as he brushes off his shoulders.

“You know, you should be more careful when locking your windows. You’re the superhero’s girlfriend, I mean—ex-girlfriend now, I suppose. It seems like he didn’t teach you some basic security stuff.” He looks around your apartment, studying it. “I even drank a coffee in your Hello Kitty mug yesterday—”

“Who the fuck are you?” you cut him off, your voice finally finding its strength.

He raises his hand mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.” He smirks, glancing at the mug on the counter. “Nice collection, by the way. Just here to talk”

"Talk?" you echo, incredulous. "You break into my apartment, drink my coffee, and now you want to talk?"

He smirks, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, something like that. Seems like your boyfriend left you in quite a state.''’

You cross your arms defensively. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” he chuckles. “No, I just find it interesting. You’re dating the city’s golden boy, and yet here you are, all alone. Doesn’t quite add up, does it?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your boyfriend’s activities. And you,” he says, pointing at you, “are a fascinating part of that equation.”

You scoff, still on edge. “Fascinating? What’s so fascinating about being left behind?”

He smiles, a glint of devilishness in his eyes. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe even... enjoy the freedom a little.” He winks, heading back toward the window.

As he climbs out, he turns back one last time. “Oh, and lock your windows. You never know who might drop by.” With that, he disappears into the night, leaving you standing there, more confused and unsettled than ever.

You move to the window and lock it firmly, your heart pounding.

Your boyfriend had warned you that this might happen, and it happened at the worst time—when he wasn’t there.

Honestly, you couldn’t sleep that night either, now worried that a fucking stranger could break into your apartment, and instead of just drinking a coffee, he might bake a whole cake in your kitchen or, worse, do something to you.

So, you do what a ludic person would do. You start packing an emergency bag and ask to sleep at your friend’s house, using the excuse that you’ve broken up with your boyfriend—when in fact, you were more scared than anything.

[...]

More terrifying was when you needed to return home.

You open your front door, putting the bag on the floor. Before you can turn around to close the door, a hand clasps over your mouth, and the door behind you closes. You feel a warm body pressing against yours as you close your eyes tightly.

It’s your end, you think.

You don’t even dare to open your eyes. When the hand is removed from your mouth, all you can mutter is, “Don’t hurt me, please.”

You hear a scoff, and then you open one eye. The person takes his hood off, revealing the same guy from the window.

“Are you stupid? Why would I want to hurt you? I’m not a coward.” He detaches from you, looking at your still-squeezed form. “Where were you? And you did a great job locking the other windows, but your laundry window was not locked.”

You can only stare at him, your heart racing. He rolls his eyes. “Can you stop being a pissy little girl? You’re a grown woman. I’ve told you I’m not going to hurt you, and if it comforts you, I won’t steal your mug collection either. Maybe some coffee powder—but, well, can you stop?”

You think you’re going crazy. Was all of this supposed to be normal?

He rolls his eyes again and disappears into your kitchen. You take small, shy—and scared—steps toward the kitchen to find him using your coffee machine, watching the coffee brew. His arms are propped on the counter, and he turns his head to look at you.

He sighs, seeing your still-compressed form, like you’re still scared of his presence.

“Seriously,” he says, straightening up. “I’m not here to hurt you. You need to relax.” He takes a mug from your collection and pours himself a coffee, casually leaning against the counter as if he belongs there.

“What do you want from me?” you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He takes a sip of coffee, savoring it before answering. “Just checking in. Making sure you’re okay. Your boyfriend isn’t exactly around to protect you, is he?”

You glare at him. “I don’t need his protection. Or yours.”

He smirks, clearly amused. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He sets the mug down and steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “But here’s the thing—you’re involved now, whether you like it or not.”

You swallow hard, trying to hold your ground. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“Too late,” he replies, his tone serious. “You’re already part of it. So, you might as well get used to it.”

You begin to shiver as his words sink in. This is your life now, tangled up with heroes and villains. And there’s no going back.

He sighs, seeing the fear in your eyes. “Look, I know this isn’t what you signed up for. But you’re tougher than you think. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, whatever—he’s not around, and that puts you in a vulnerable position.”

“You mean, you’re here to spy on me. To see if you can use me against him.”

He shrugs. “I'm here ensure you’re not caught in the crossfire. Believe it or not, I have some principles.”

You laugh bitterly. “Principles? Breaking into someone’s home and terrorizing them is principled now?”

He sets the cup down and steps closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But you need to be more careful. This world you’re tangled in—it’s dangerous.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to believe him. “And you’re what, my guardian angel now?”

He smirks. “Hardly. Think of me as a… concerned party. I don’t want unnecessary casualties.” “Stay out of trouble. Keep your head down.”

With that, he finishes his coffee and heads toward the window. “Remember, I'm not your enemy, but I'm definitely his. Don't make me your enemy too.”

"Wait!" you call out. He stops and turns around slowly, his expression curious. "W-who are you?" you stammer.

He tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you really want to know?" he asks, his tone dripping with mocking curiosity.

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re practically living here. I should at least know your name."

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "More like a roommate situation, huh? Alright, if you really want to know, you can call me Seungcheol. And if you’re genuinely interested in what I do, maybe I’ll take you to my HQ someday, show you my plans."

You grimace at his tone, which only makes him laugh harder.

Before heading down the emergency stairs, he looks back at you. "Stay close, alright? I need to keep tabs on you. You’re a bit exposed out here." He winks and disappears, leaving you standing there, more confused than before.

Seungcheol—the window guy, as you’d come to call him—disappeared physically for some days, but his presence lingered in odd, unsettling ways. You started finding pieces of ripped paper around your house, each with a different message.

“Keep your windows locked.”

“Log out of your social media from your home computer.”

“Check your door lock twice before bed.”

“Don’t leave your spare key under the mat.”

And one particularly embarrassing note: “I know you miss your hero-boyfriend, but can you also hide your sex toys? I’m traumatized.”

The embarrassment lasts only a few minutes each time, but then you think, nobody asked him to keep coming into your house. Still, there was a strange sense of security in knowing he was keeping an eye on things, even if his methods were invasive and borderline creepy.

Days turn into a week, and the silence feels heavy.

You find yourself almost missing the bizarre meetings. One night, as you’re cleaning up after dinner, you catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. You draw the curtains aside to find Seungcheol lounging casually on the fire escape, looking like he belonged there.

“Miss me?” he quips, flashing you a smirk.

You roll your eyes, opening the window slightly. “You really need to get a hobby, Seungcheol.”

“This is my hobby,” he says, slipping inside without an invitation. “Keeping tabs on you is surprisingly entertaining.”

“You know, you could at least pretend not to notice my vibrator,” you snap, half-joking, half-mortified.

Seungcheol grins, “Hey, it’s hard to miss when it’s just lying around. You could be more discreet.”

You huff in annoyance, continuing to clean up. He opens your fridge, rummaging around like he owns the place. “Any news?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He casually bites into an apple. “Yep. One of his enemies is planning to invade your place tomorrow at 7:48 p.m. The exact time you get home from work.”

You spin around, eyes wide. “What?! What do I do?”

“I suggest you stay close to me,” he shrugs. “I can keep you safe, make sure no one uses you as a pawn.”

“You want me to trust you?” you ask, incredulous.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be safe, or do you want to have some alien freak shoving its tentacles down your throat?”

You give him an exasperated look. “I knew you’d have this reaction,” he says, shrugging. He places a flash drive on your kitchen counter. “Watch it yourself.”

You close your eyes, massaging your temples. You don’t know if you’re ready to see what’s on that flash drive, much less trust a stranger who claims to be your ex-boyfriend’s enemy.

“I need you to leave. Even if he’s my ex, I still can’t do something like this.”

Seungcheol nods, looking up like he expected this. “Your boyfriend won’t be here to rescue you if that’s what you’re counting on.”

“How can you be so sure of that? I don’t even know you!”

“Because if your stupid boyfriend didn’t buy those superpowers, he’d be nothing. Without that silly red cape and the TV cameras, he’s just an insecure guy who wants to be seen. And— come on, he didn’t care about the girlfriend he had waiting at home. You think he cares about saving random people? Don’t be dumb.”

His words sting, and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. He nods negatively as he walks out again, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words sinking in. You don’t want to believe him, but deep down, you know there’s some truth to what he’s saying.

With a sigh, you look at the flash drive on the counter.

The next day was a mess from the moment you woke up. You couldn't find your white shirt, and your baby liss was nowhere to be found. Running late, you had to leave without fixing your hair.

Work was a blur of you staring blankly at your computer screen, your mind preoccupied with the fear that some tentacle monster might actually show up at 7:48 p.m.

Were you being stupid for believing a guy you met barely a week ago? Absolutely. But who wouldn't be a little suspicious?

As you stepped off the bus and walked along the sidewalk toward your building, your watch read 7:58 p.m. You glanced up at your window. The lights were off, and everything looked normal. No way a villain would get you, right?

"I knew he was lying," you mutter quietly to yourself, almost convincing.

But your conviction didn’t last long. A massive purple tentacle exploded through your living room window, sending concrete and bricks crashing to the street. Your eyes widened in disbelief. Was that a person in the middle of those giant tentacles? Were you homeless now?

"Are you gonna hop on or let these ugly tentacles suffocate you?" Seungcheol’s voice cuts through the chaos.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. You turned to see him in his black outfit, waiting on his motorcycle. Your instinct was to kneel on the ground and cry about your now-destroyed apartment, but you didn't have time for that.

You sulked a bit before grabbing the helmet from his hand and hopping onto the bike, your hands wrapping uncertainly around his waist.

As Seungcheol sped off towards his HQ—or hideout, whatever it was—your tears started to flow. "My apartment... it's ruined. All my stuff, my mug collection, my unicorn pajamas I didn’t even get to wear yet," you whined into his back.

Seungcheol fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Seriously? We're running from a monster, and you're worried about unicorn pajamas?"

“Yes!” you sniffled. “They were so cute. And now I don’t even have a place to sleep. My place is ruined, and all my goods are probably destroyed.”

“Focus on staying alive first,” he said, trying to sound more patient than he felt. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“But my mugs… My unicorn pajamas…” you continued, your voice muffled against his back.

“Alright, alright,” he said, trying to placate you.

Seungcheol had to concentrate to keep from crashing as he listened to you cry and whine about your lost belongings. He knew you were overwhelmed, and though it was annoying, he understood. Reaching his hideout, he finally stopped the bike and helped you off, letting you lean on him for support.

Your first instinct is to look around. It’s a large industrial loft, the walls made of bricks, and the long windows hidden behind some opaque plastic.

The place seems to have only the essentials: a large bed with a vintage headboard, a couch, a TV. Turning around, you notice the kitchen has a coffee machine just like yours.

Then your eyes widen as you spot familiar items: the white shirt you were looking for this morning, poking out of a huge black bag, a big box labeled 'mugs’ in bad calligraphy, your hair iron with the princess tape patch on the cord, emerging from another black bag.

Several bags are sprawled on the floor, all looking ready to burst.

"M-my things!" you squeak as Seungcheol looks unbothered, though you can see the faintest hint of a smile at your happiness. You run to him, giving him a clumsy hug that he doesn’t reciprocate, before opening the bags.

"It was very difficult to bring all of your stuff," he says, trying to hide his amusement. "Can I know why you have three... inflatable flamingos all the same color?" he asks, clearly judging the quirky items he found while gathering your things from your dresser.

You don’t respond, too busy rifling through the bags like a kid on Christmas morning.

You open another bag with a big smile on your face, which quickly fades when you see what’s on top: your vibrator, handcuffs, and lube.

You widen your eyes and try to close the bag with an awkward smile, but it’s too late. Seungcheol turns his head to the side, taking a deep breath as if trying to pretend he wasn’t the one who had to gather your spicy stuff.

You clear your throat, standing up and brushing off your knees. “When did you get all of this? I mean—how did you do it so quickly?”

"Some friends helped me," he answers, watching your reaction.

You widened your eyes, and he knew why.

“Chill out, I packed your Christian Grey stuff myself,” he said, looking up as if remembering something. “And what's with that neon green, dildo? Seriously?”

You stuttered, your face flushed. “I-I didn’t use that, it was a gag gift!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to know,” he said, cutting you off with a furrowed brow.

“That’s… oddly considerate of you,” you admitted, still processing everything.

He shrugged again, “Don’t get used to it. I’m not a nice guy.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You sighed, “Thanks, I guess. It’s just… embarrassing.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve seen worse,” he shrugged.

“Worse than a neon green dildo?”

He chuckled, “You’d be surprised.”

You point at the large industrial loft around you. “So, this is your place?”

"Not as fancy as yours, but, yes, it is," Seungcheol responds, shrugging nonchalantly.

You shake your head, still taking in the surroundings. "I wouldn’t call my place fancy. Just... more pink."

He chuckles, nodding. "Yeah, I noticed. You have a thing for unicorns and pastels."

You look around, taking in the mix of sparse furniture and personal touches. "Why do you have my stuff, anyway?"

He leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Had to make sure you had everything. Can't have you running back to your place and getting into trouble."

You shake your head, still in disbelief. "You really don’t look like a villain."

He scoffs, giving you a sideways glance. "That's because I don't have a red cape? You don’t look this naughty either. I discovered it in the worst way."

You try to slap his shoulder playfully, but he catches your hand with his quick reflexes, smirking as he lets go and starts walking toward the loft above. You follow him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Different from your boyfriend, I don’t need muscle superpowers to be relevant,” he says, glancing back at you as he ascends the stairs.

You glance around as you reach the upper level, which is filled with computers, chemistry equipment, and some jackets thrown randomly around. "So, what exactly do you do here?"

"Let's just say I have my ways of keeping an eye on things," he replies, tapping on one of the computer screens. "Information is power, you know."

You nod slowly. "And what's your plan with all this power?"

He raises an eyebrow, amused by your question. "That depends. What do you think I should do with it?"

You let out a nervous laugh. "I'm not exactly an expert on villainous plots."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Relax, I'm not planning world domination. Just...taking care of some business."

You tilt your head, still trying to piece everything together. "And what kind of business would that be?"

He sighs, looking frustrated at you—but trying to be patient. "Let's just say there are a lot of things that need fixing, and sometimes you have to break a few rules to get it done."

You frown, thinking about his words. "And my ex-boyfriend...does he know about any of this?"

Seungcheol shrugs. "He knows I exist, but he doesn't know the details. Probably too busy flexing for the cameras."

You can’t help but smile. "Yeah, he’s definitely good at that."

Seungcheol looks at you seriously. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but trust me, it’s better you know the truth. You can’t go back to being ignorant."

"So, what do we do? I can't just hide forever."

Seungcheol sits on the edge of a desk, looking thoughtful. "You’re here because you’re vulnerable—"

"Vulnerable?" you interrupt, crossing your arms. "You make it sound like I’m helpless."

Seungcheol stops for a moment, looking at you blankly.

"Think fast!" he says suddenly, throwing a sock ball in your direction. You instinctively step back, catching the ball, but your back overtakes the loft railing.

Seungcheol gets up from his chair, moving swiftly to grip you tightly before you fall to the floor below. You go static as you look at him, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you.

"You're good at catching," he says, glancing at the sock in your hand. "But you need to have a better sense of space."

Your heart pounds, both from the near fall and his closeness. "What was that for?"

He releases you, but his eyes stay locked on yours. "Training. If you’re going to stay here, you need to be alert."

You nod. "Okay, but maybe warn me next time?"

He chuckles, stepping back to give you some space. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes, tossing the sock ball back at him. He catches it effortlessly. "So, what’s the plan? How do I learn to protect myself?"

Seungcheol tilts his head, considering. "I don't know... Maybe some basic self-defense? For example, if i do this—" He moves quickly, throwing a punch towards you—not to hit, but to test your reaction.

You manage to dodge, but not gracefully. He smiles. "Not bad for a beginner. We'll keep working on that."

[...]

You still miss your apartment, and a lot of your things are still in bags, which you pick through only when you need something. You always wondered what really happened in movies when heroes destroyed the whole city during battles. Now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. Your apartment is being repaired by the building’s construction company, with help from insurance. So, more days living with Seungcheol.

It’s not bad. It’s strange, for someone used to being alone at home. He leaves at night, just like your ex-boyfriend, but spends more of his days in the loft—more than your ex-boyfriend ever did.

He’s actually teaching you something useful. The two of you spar in the loft, not even needing to move furniture since there isn’t much. And he’s hard on you.

You support your hands on your knees, panting, while he looks untouched. "C’mon! Are you tired already?"

You straighten up, mocking his tone. "Unfortunately, my ex who fights around didn’t give me a preview of how to box."

He puts his hands on his hips. "Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to fight. He only has his powers to his advantage."

“You didn't watch what was on the flash drive, did you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

He sighs and asks you to come up. He sits you in his chair, in front of his computer, and opens a folder. There’s a video of your boyfriend inside a laboratory. It looks very old.

"I need more than just strength and flight," your boyfriend says in the video, addressing what looks like a scientist. "We’ve been studying this for years. My time has come."

“Are you sure? There’s no turning back,” the scientist asks.

“I’m sure. I can’t keep living this mediocre life,” your boyfriend replies.

“But what about the people around you? They’re at risk,” the scientist says.

Your ex-boyfriend's response breaks your heart, though you can’t deny it fits his recent arrogance. "I don’t care. I need this."

The scientist sighs and then injects several different colored serums into your ex’s body. He groans, and as he begins to levitate, the video blurs and turns off.

You stare at the blank screen, processing the information. Seungcheol leans back, giving you space.

"See what I mean?" he says. "He wasn’t thinking about you, or anyone else. Just himself."

“So, he chose this. He actually wanted this.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, he did. It wasn’t some accident or noble cause. He was just desperate to be more than he was.”

You sit back, processing the information. “He used to be so different. I don’t even recognize him anymore.”

“That’s what power does to some people,” Seungcheol says, leaning against the desk. “It changes them.”

Seungcheol’s screens start to beep urgently, pulling his attention away from you. He walks calmly to the other side of the room to grab his jacket. The steady rhythm of his movements contrasts with the beeping noises filling the space.

He’s about to leave again when he pauses, his back facing you.

You watch him, restless, pacing back and forth as your mind churns over the recent revelations. His peripheral vision catches your agitation. He glances sideways, noticing the anxiousness in your steps.

He moves towards the door, then hesitates and turns back. “If you need anything, just—”

“Yeah, I know. Just call you, right?” You finish his sentence, giving him a small, knowing smile.

He smirks, nodding. “Exactly. Stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he leaves the loft, the door closing behind him.

You knew Seungcheol would arrive home late, and you needed to calm down. Unfortunately, the last bottle of wine was finished yesterday when you couldn't find anything else to drink with your popcorn.

Sweets maybe? Well, a villain’s house would have sweets? No, just as you thought. The only thing left was a pack of cigarettes on the kitchen counter.

You find yourself on the rooftop of Seungcheol's loft, the cigarette smoke filling your lungs and burning your throat. You didn’t like the smell of cigarettes and coughed every time the smoke filled your lungs.

But that’s what you had to dissolve a bit of your anxiety, your last moments with your ex replaying in your mind. So he never cared at all?

Suddenly, your cigarette is slapped out of your hand. You turn around to see your ex, his costume perfect, but his eyes deep and face scarred.

“This is what Seungcheol has taught you then? Aren’t you ashamed?” He sneers.

You open your mouth to answer, but he comes closer, making you flinch.

He scoffs. “What? You’re scared of me? Let me tell you something... He is the villain. And you’ve joined his side, my enemy, after all we had.” He spits the words out with venom.

Rage boils within you, making you feel not like yourself. “Seungcheol took care of me. If I were alone, I would be dead. You don’t know what kind of superpower this is.”

He grabs your arm, making you feel dizzy, your vision cloudy. The pain is intense and senseless.

“What? You thought a villain would help you? You’re fragile. You need attention so bad that I couldn’t even handle you.” You fall to the ground, the pain spreading through your body as you groan.

“You know what? If you think he’s going to be your enchanted prince, you’re wrong. So damn wrong. The chances of him wanting to kill you are greater than that stupid dream of yours—”

You hear an impact, and the dizziness and pain slowly dissipate. You breathe properly again. When you come back to your senses, you look up to see Seungcheol, fighting with your ex. Seungcheol is taking a beating, only advancing when your ex's power falters, like a lag.

You could leave sneakily, but was it right? Seungcheol literally protected you from your own ex, showed you his true colors, and taught you the best of himself. Even though he is cold and "cruel" as they say.

As you're thinking, a glass sound pulls you from your mind. It's an injection.

You see your ex crawling desperately to get it. Seungcheol gives you an exasperated look, signaling for you to pick it up.

You grab it, walking back as your ex roars for you to leave it. You clutch it in your fist and, in a moment of desperation, inject it into your leg.

Your ex widens his eyes. But the substance is too powerful for you. You fall again, the pain overwhelming you.

He laughs, but Seungcheol is on him, beating him relentlessly. The fight intensifies, Seungcheol’s blows becoming more furious. You can barely focus on their struggle, the pain in your leg is consuming your thoughts.

The injection burns through your veins, making you feel like you’re on fire. You clench your teeth, trying to endure it. Your ex's laughter turns into cries of pain as Seungcheol lands a particularly harsh blow.

Seungcheol’s eyes briefly meet yours, and you see the determination in them. He’s fighting for you, protecting you with everything he has.

Seungcheol pauses, turning his attention away from you as the hero rises once more, clearly summoning his last reserves of strength.

Seungcheol stands confidently, knowing he has a chance to defeat him—if only he weren't standing on the edge of the building.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t possess flying superpowers. Instead, he grips the edge of the building with nothing but the strength of his fingers, looking up at the hero who towers above him.

Yet, Seungcheol has one special superpower, the reason he's considered the villain: the ability to listen to those who need help, like an echo in his mind. He hears the calls for aid and responds in his own way, without the expensive, extraneous superpowers the heroes pay billions for.

Unlike them, who need to buy their abilities, Seungcheol was born with his. He helps those living on the margins of society, without seeking fame or recognition. He doesn’t want to appear on TV or in the news.

Inside the heroes' world, he is well recognized, but without the money and science they have.

Seungcheol has nothing in his favor.

Yet, he still manages to help people. They can’t understand him. And hate can come easily to that which is too remembered.

His body can't manage more than this—more than his telepathy.

If it could, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He’s going to end up like this. His death won’t be caused by a big octopus or a giant RoboCop, as other heroes did. But by a great show of charity. He would do it for any citizen, but the fact that it’s you makes him have no regrets at all.

Seungcheol’s fingers start to slip, and he knows his time is running out. The hero stands above him, a look of triumph on his face. But Seungcheol’s mind is calm, even serene. He’s made peace with his fate.

The hero moves closer, ready to deliver the final blow. But in that moment, Seungcheol’s telepathy kicks in stronger than ever. He hears the cries of the people he’s saved, their voices filling his mind.

He has always fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, without the need for glory or recognition.

The world may see him as a villain, but he knows the truth.

His life has been a quiet rebellion, a stand against the notion that only the powerful can be heroes.

Seungcheol's mind becomes silent, and he can only hear your groans. His eyes close as he tries to hear from you again.

“Y/N?” he telepathizes, his voice entering your mind, velvet and deep.

You groan again, and he asks. “I’m here... are you alright, my love? Can you walk?”

The affectionate nickname makes your heart flutter. Seungcheol agonizes when the hero's steps on his fingers, but he agonizes more because he can't hear a proper response from you. Desperation sets in.

“Answer me, please. I’m not going to last,” he telepathizes again.

“Seungcheol...” he hears your voice and breathes out, relief washing over him. He looks down, watching the movement on the street below. It was too much of a drop to survive. His fingers were burning with pain.

“Seungcheol...” you call again. He shuts his eyes, clinging to the sound of your voice. “Let go,” you tell him. The words hit him like a jolt. He doesn’t understand. His arms tremble with the effort of holding on.

“Trust me, trust me, trust me.” He hears it like a whisper around his head. The conviction in your voice pierces through his fear.

He loosens his grip, his fingers slipping from the edge.

The air envelops his body like a hug as he falls, the distortion from the speed making the street sounds blur into a cacophony. The only thing he can think of is how you’re going to live by yourself now.

As he falls, memories flash before his eyes. He remembers every face he saved, every life he touched, his quiet acts of heroism, every moment of your brief time together, and then, vividly, your face.

He thinks of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.

The moment Seungcheol hits the ground, he expects the pain, the end. Instead, he feels a strange warmth spreading through his body. He blinks, realizing he’s lying on a soft cushion of air, suspended just above the pavement. The hero stares down in disbelief.

Seungcheol’s body is gently lowered to the ground. He looks up to see you standing on the rooftop, your hand outstretched, eyes closed in fierce concentration. As his feet touch the ground, your eyes snap open, and you breathe out in relief.

Before Seungcheol can react, you advance on the hero, the two of you disappearing in a blur of motion and light atop the building.

Blinding flashes illuminate the rooftop as Seungcheol scrambles to his feet, urgency driving him forward. He runs into the building, tripping on the flights of stairs in his haste. The sounds of the battle above echo down to him, and he pushes himself harder, every fiber of his being focused on reaching you in time.

Seungcheol bursts onto the rooftop again, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. The sight that greets him makes his blood run cold.

Your ex-boyfriend lies lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. In your trembling hand, the hero’s heart reactor device glows faintly, now smeared with blood.

“Y/N!” Seungcheol shouts, rushing to your side as your knees give way, collapsing under the weight of what you’ve done. The powers from the injection still course through your veins, but your energy is completely spent. You tremble in his hands, your body feeling like it’s made of lead.

The weight of what you’ve done hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare down at the reactor in your hand, the blood smeared on your fingers, and a violent shudder runs through you. The metallic smell of blood mingles with the acrid scent of smoke, and it’s all too much.

“I never wanted it to end like this,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Your face is frozen in shock, eyes wide and unseeing as you try to process the magnitude of your actions. “I-I’ve killed someone.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, his grip on your shoulders firm yet gentle. “You did what you had to do,” he says, his voice low and steady. “He would’ve killed you, Y/N.”

You shake your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you insist, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to become a killer.”

Seungcheol’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth seeping into your cold, shaking body. “Listen to me,” he says firmly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re not a killer. You’re a survivor. He put you in this position, not the other way around.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you sob uncontrollably. The reactor slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. “I just wanted to be safe,” you cry, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“I know,” Seungcheol murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I know, Y/N. It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “How can you be so sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re strong,” he says simply, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Stronger than you realize. And because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes your heart ache. Despite everything, there’s a flicker of hope in his gaze that you can’t ignore.

Seungcheol brings you back to his loft, your body feeling heavy and numb. He helps you inside the shower, carefully removing your clothes. You sit on the floor, naked, as the warm water cascades over you, washing away the blood and grime.

There’s no malice or ulterior motive in his actions—only a quiet, pure care. You stare blankly at the tiles of his shower, lost in your thoughts, while his hands work methodically, washing your hair and scrubbing away the blood stains from your skin.

You needed this.

The side effects of the injection, the strain of using powers you didn’t fully understand, have left you weak. So weak that you need him to do something as simple as this for you.

Once you’re clean, Seungcheol wraps you in a fluffy towel, drying you carefully. He dresses you in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin.

He guides you to his bed, tucking you in. You sink into the mattress, the exhaustion pulling at you like a heavy blanket. Seungcheol sits beside you, watching you for a few minutes. His body aches from the fight, but his concern for you overrides his own pain.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “You need to rest. Let your body recover.”

You nod, closing your eyes. The events of the night replay in your mind, but there’s a strange comfort in knowing Seungcheol is there, watching over you. “You don’t have to stay,” you murmur, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I want to,” he replies softly. “Just sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

As you drift off, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his hand holding yours, grounding you in the midst of the turmoil. The darkness of sleep pulls you under, but for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel completely alone.

He waits for you to fall asleep before quietly moving around the loft, gathering what’s left of your belongings.

With quick, calculated motions, he loads his things, along with yours, into the trunk and backseat of his truck. The apartment, once filled with traces of both your lives, now stands empty, its furniture the only remnants of your presence.

When he looks at the empty space one last time, he takes a deep breath, then returns to the bedroom. Gently, he lifts you into his arms, careful not to disturb your sleep.

You’re so exhausted that you don’t stir as he carries you to the truck. His eyes flicker to you now and then as he drives, taking the road that leads to the other side of the country.

Long hours later, the sun starts to rise, casting a golden hue over the landscape. You wake up, eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the day. You find yourself parked outside a roadside restaurant, the car silent. Seungcheol is nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you notice a blanket draped over you and realize you’re fully dressed, not just in his shirt anymore.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, fingers curling around the edges of the blanket. The sound of footsteps draws your attention, and you see Seungcheol approaching with a box of food in his hands. He opens the car door and slides into the driver’s seat, placing the food on the console between you.

“Hey,” he says softly, glancing at you. “How are you feeling?”

You blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Tired,” you admit, your voice still groggy. “Where are we?”

“We’re on the road,” he replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you could use some breakfast.” He opens the box, revealing a variety of pastries, fruit, and a couple of sandwiches.

You nod, reaching for a piece of fruit. “Thank you,” you say, taking a bite and savoring the sweet taste. “For everything.”

He watches you eat for a moment before responding. “You needed to get away from there. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice soft. “But where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” he answers, his tone reassuring. "Somewhere, they won’t find us.”

You look at him, studying his face. There’s a determination in his eyes, a resolve that gives you a sense of security despite the uncertainty of your situation. “Okay,” you say, trusting him.

He nods, his eyes softening. “Finish eating. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

As you pass through small towns and sprawling landscapes, a sense of peace begins to settle over you. The rhythmic hum of the truck and the steady presence of Seungcheol at your side are comforting.

You share the occasional snack with him, your fingers brushing against his lips, eliciting a small smile from him each time.

As the truck continues down the road, the cityscape starts to take shape on the horizon. Tall buildings stand proud, their windows reflecting the sun’s light. It’s a bustling place, full of life and opportunity.

It’s everything you’ve been yearning for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

After you arrive, your legs stretch as you step onto the new asphalt. You look around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and ask, “Where are we?”

Seungcheol smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I’m going to show you,” he replies, leading you towards a big, white house. The house stands in stark contrast to the urban scene around it, classic and serene.

You follow him inside, and immediately, you notice people dressed in white moving about with purpose. Some are tending to children, others to elders, each room filled with an atmosphere of care and compassion. It's a place of healing and sanctuary, you realize, a refuge from the chaos you’ve just escaped.

As you walk through the house, you reach a garden at the back. The same people in white are there, playing with the children and dogs, the air filled with laughter and joy.

You notice a girl in white sitting by an easel, her fingers pressed to her temples. To your amazement, the brush on the canvas moves on its own, guided by her powers.

You stare in awe. “She’s painting without touching the brush,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder.

Seungcheol nods. “Yes, she’s using her powers. This place is a sanctuary for people like her, like us. A safe haven where they can learn to control and use their abilities for good.”

You look around, taking in the peaceful surroundings, the sense of community and support. “It’s beautiful,” you say softly, feeling a sense of hope blossom within you.

The next stop is a small, vintage apartment where you and Seungcheol place your things. The walls are adorned with faded floral wallpaper, and the furniture has a charming, old-fashioned feel. You sit on the living room floor, surrounded by boxes, and trail off, lost in thought.

“So, you’re a hero, not a villain,” you murmur, looking up at Seungcheol.

He pauses, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression. “I guess it’s not that simple,” he says, sitting down across from you. “People see what they want to see. To some, I’m a hero. To others, I’m a villain.”

You nod, digesting his words. “But you saved me. You brought me here. That makes you a hero in my book.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I just did what needed to be done. Sometimes, the line between hero and villain isn’t so clear.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows. “It’s strange, you know? All this time, I thought I knew who the good guys and the bad guys were. But now… everything’s different.”

He nods, his eyes distant. “Life isn’t a simple story. It’s messy, complicated. People have layers, motives that aren’t always black and white.”

You turn to Seungcheol, who has laid himself out on the living room floor beside you. The gentle hum of the old radiator fills the silence between you as you finally ask the question that's been on your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, glancing over at him.

He turns his head to face you, nodding slightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

“How did you meet me?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

Seungcheol sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “I first heard you every single night in my head before I even knew where you lived. It started with your thoughts and feelings—your fears, your doubts. I heard them all.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “You heard me in your head?”

He nods. “Yeah. I didn’t know who you were at first, just that there was someone struggling. I could sense your pain and your frustration. It was like an echo in my mind.”

He pauses for a moment, then continues. “When I'vve found you, I started watching the movements in your apartment. I saw you and your boyfriend fighting—a lot. I saw the nights you were left alone...”

You shift uncomfortably, thinking about all the arguments, the hurtful words exchanged. “What did you see?”

“I saw things that were hard to watch. There were nights when your boyfriend would come home drunk, lashing out at you for no reason. I saw him bringing people over, strangers who didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Your heart aches as you listen. “So, you were watching all of this?”

He nods. “I was. I needed to be sure of what was happening before I intervened. I couldn’t just act without understanding the full picture. He was involved in some dangerous activities, connections with people I didn’t want you to be near.”

He looks at you with a serious expression. “I knew I had to do something. It’s my job, in a way. The place I showed you before, is where people like me come from. We’re spread out across the country, helping those in need.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “So, you felt like you had to save me.”

“Exactly,” he says softly. “It was more than just a job. It was a responsibility. When I saw how much you were suffering, I knew I couldn’t just stand by. I had to step in.”

As you lie there, processing everything Seungcheol has told you, it dawns on you that the man who once seemed so mysterious and distant wasn’t a villain at all. He was the one who sat on your window, smoking and wearing a black outfit, seemingly a shadowy figure.

He was the one who risked falling from a building to ensure your safety, who gathered your belongings—even your mug collection, and your… dildo—before your apartment was destroyed by an alien.

He was the man who, despite the doubts and fears, saved your life and now laid by your side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol’s presence beside you, so unexpectedly comforting, makes you feel secure in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. His gaze meets yours, a question in his eyes as if trying to decipher the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind.

Unable to hold back your emotions any longer, you roll over and drape yourself across him like a koala. The sudden weight makes him emit a funny gasp. You both end up laughing, the sound filling the room with warmth. He wraps his arms around you, reciprocating the hug with a soft giggle.

“What?” he asks with a playful smile, his eyes twinkling.

You look up at him, your heart full, and press a soft kiss on his lips. Seungcheol’s eyes flutter closed, and he melts into the kiss, holding your face gently as if he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

But then, he pulls back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Wait, no, are you sure about this? I mean, you’ve just come out of a… complicated relationship.”

You can see the concern in his eyes, the careful consideration behind his words. “I am sure,” you say softly, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “You’ve been amazing. You’re not a villain, and you��ve shown me what it’s like to be cared for.”

You move to kiss his forehead, then his neck, making him giggle again, his laughter bubbling up despite the seriousness of the conversation. He closes his eyes, savoring each tender kiss, his heart racing with every touch.

“I guess I’m just worried,” he says, his voice a mix of hesitation and affection. “You’ve been through so much. I don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to fill a void or something.”

You shake your head, placing one last kiss on his lips. “You’re not just filling a void. You’re something real and true, and I can feel it.”

“Can you… feel it?” he asks.

You smile against his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to reassure him. “Of course I can,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment your lips meet his again, you notice his reaction is less restrained this time. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you might disappear. His kisses grow more passionate, each touch of his lips filled with a desperate need to communicate everything he feels.

You can taste the sweetness of his affection, feel the way he melts into you, and you respond with the same intensity. Your hands explore the familiar contours of his face, as if memorizing every detail, every emotion he's conveying.

His breath quickens, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the way his entire body seems to respond to you, to the connection that’s unfolding between you both.

He pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes locked onto yours. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could.”

You brush your lips against his once more, a soft, tender caress. “It’s because it’s real,” you whisper. “It’s something I’ve needed for a long time.”

[...]

If you ever thought your life would change drastically, you never imagined it would be like this.

When Seungcheol left to handle his tasks for the night, it felt different. The house, though quiet, seemed fuller now.

His presence lingered in the way he had filled it with his energy, his routines, his little touches that made the space feel like more than just four walls. The absence of his constant presence was noticeable, yet somehow, it felt like a comfort.

You wandered around the house, touching things you hadn’t noticed before. There were small, personal details—like a collection of old vinyl records stacked neatly on a shelf, and a set of quirky, handmade coasters on the coffee table. They made the house feel lived in, like a real home.

In the kitchen, you found a note Seungcheol had left on the counter, scrawled in his familiar handwriting: “Pick a movie tonight. I’ll be back soon.” You smiled at the simple gesture, a small piece of normalcy in the midst of the whirlwind you’d been through.

When he arrives at the apartment, the warm aroma of dinner wafts from the stove. He glances around, noticing that the movie on the TV is paused at the very beginning. It’s strange that you’re not here; usually, you’d be curled up on the couch, waiting for him.

His eyes sweep over the space, and he hangs his jacket on a dining chair, the soft thud of the fabric against the wood mingling with the hum of the refrigerator.

A sudden noise catches his attention—an “Ah!” from somewhere in the apartment.

Seungcheol freezes, his heart rate quickening. He tilts his head, straining to hear again. The sound came from the bedroom. Curiosity and concern propel him forward as he moves cautiously toward the door.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he peeks inside. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the scene before him.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, your legs were spread open in a way that revealed everything.

Your body glistens with a sheen of sweat, and you’re arching back, clearly horny. The vibrator, the very same one he had glimpsed in your old apartment—a sight that had piqued his curiosity—was now pressed tightly against your clit.

He could see the pleasure etched across your face, the way you bit your lip and gripped the sheets. He hesitated at the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him.

The sight is so intimate, so raw, that he feels a blend of emotions—desire, awe, and a sense of protectiveness. His initial impulse is to step in, to be there for you, but he’s also painfully aware of how private this moment is.

His own breath hitches as he wrestles with the decision of whether to interrupt or simply stand back. He knows this is a vulnerable part of you, one that you might not be ready to share with him just yet.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, his desire is real as he steps fully into the room. The bulge in his pants is a constant reminder of just how affected he is by the scene unfolding before him. But he pushes past his own need, focusing on you.

He kneels beside the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might pull you from your reverie. His fingers, though trembling slightly, are gentle as he reaches for the vibrator. He eases it away from your clit, the sudden absence making you gasp, a sound that’s part surprise, part frustration.

You blink rapidly, trying to catch your breath as you process his presence. Your cheeks flush a deep red. Just as you begin to open your mouth, ready to speak or perhaps to protest, Seungcheol silences you with a touch.

Without a word, he positions the vibrator back against your wetness, the cool touch of it sending you screaming on your bed. Slowly, he guides it back to your clit, applying a steady pressure as he begins to circle it.

His eyes are locked onto your every reaction, absorbing each tremor and gasp as if they were treasures.

The immediate pleasure that jolts through you is overwhelming. You clench his forearm, your grip desperate and needy as you roll your eyes back in pure, unfiltered sensation. The way he controls the vibrator, the way he’s so deliberately attentive to your body—it drives you wild.

The intensity of your arousal triples, the added thrill of Seungcheol’s touch making it feel like every nerve is on fire. You sob, the sound escaping from you as you struggle to stay grounded amidst the stimulation.

Each circle of the vibrator on your clit feels like an eternity, stretching out the sensation to a nearly unbearable edge.

Seungcheol’s gaze never wavers from you. He watches you with an intense focus and tenderness, his own breath coming in uneven puffs as he fights to keep his own desires in check.

He’s controlling your pleasure with an expert touch, making sure that each movement is precise and perfectly tuned to your reactions.

He knows you’re on the brink, and he’s both savoring and prolonging this moment for you.

The control he exerts is deliberate, his movements are carefully calculated to push you to the edge without letting you fall over just yet.

As your body writhes beneath his touch, Seungcheol’s expression softens. He can see how much you need this, how much his presence, his touch, is amplifying everything you’re feeling. It’s a heady blend of power and vulnerability, and he’s completely consumed by it.

As the waves of pleasure begin to crest, you feel your moans transforming into quieter, breathless gasps. Your body tightens, with every muscle pulling taut as you approach the brink of orgasm.

It’s right there, just a heartbeat away, when Seungcheol suddenly pulls the vibrator away. The abrupt absence of its buzzing sends a shock through you, your body jolting as you let out a delayed cry of frustration.

Seungcheol doesn’t look at you. Rather, he sets the vibrator on the bedside table as if it were a routine, doing so with practiced ease.

Then he gets to his feet and strips off his shirt, baring his chest. Your need is heightened by the sight of him, so masterful and totally devoted to you. You watch him, breathless and with wide eyes, while he dismisses your little cries of protest.

He seems determined to show you something more personal than the toy could ever offer, judging by the steady, unwavering look in his eyes.

He says, taking off his belt, “I want to see you cum for me, not for a toy.” “I want to see you cum in my mouth,” he murmurs.

You swear you see your soul leave your body just like in a cartoon,with his words. He spreads your legs wide, putting himself between them. You can almost feel the need in your body quivering with anticipation.

His mouth feels like fire when it first touches your clit; the buzzing vibrator has made you more sensitive. You gasp, your hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is moist and warm as it hungersily probes every part of you.

You let out a deep moan as he laps at your entrance, gathering your slick and spreading it over your clit.

He sucks gently, then more firmly, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot in a way that has you writhing beneath him. Every nerve ending in the body is hyperaware of intense pleasure.

Your hips are held in place by Seungcheol's hands as he consumes you. You can feel the strength in his hold, the way his fingers dig into your skin just enough to anchor you. His eyes glance up at you, watching your reactions, ensuring he’s giving you exactly what you need.

“Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice shaky. “I’m so close.”

His response is a deep hum against your clit. He intensifies his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his lips sucking harder. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold on for dear life.

Every muscle in your body tightens, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He doesn’t let up, his focus entirely on you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When your orgasm finally crashes over you, your back arches off the bed, a loud moan escaping your lips. Seungcheol continues to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure, his eyes locked on your face as you come undone.

You take a deep breath, your vision slowly clearing, and catch sight of Seungcheol gripping his cock through his boxers. The outline looks thick and big, making your mouth water at the sight of it.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. His eyes meet yours, dark and round.

“Yes?” he asks, his voice husky.

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you press your palm against the bulge in his boxers. He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you touch him.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you say, your voice gaining strength.

He groans softly, his restraint slipping. He helps you pull his boxers down, his erection springing free. It looks even more impressive without the fabric, flushed, throbbing, and you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation.

You lean forward, taking him into your hand, feeling the warmth and the weight of him. He watches you, his breath hitching as you stroke him slowly.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, looking up at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “And you’re so beautiful.”

You smile. Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on the tip, tasting the salty precum. His reaction is immediate, a shudder running through his body as he groans your name.

Encouraged, you take him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head. His hand finds your hair, not pushing, just holding you gently as you work him with your mouth.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so well.”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, feeling the stretch in your jaw. His size is a challenge, but you’re determined to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His groans and gasps spur you on, each sound a reward for your efforts.

You bob your head, taking him as deep as you can, your hand stroking the base where you can’t reach. His hips begin to move, a slow, careful thrust that shows how close he is to losing control.

“Y/N, I’m close,” he warns, his voice strained.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you continue your movements, letting him know without words that you want this. He curses softly, his grip on your hair tightening just a bit.

One thing he didn’t notice was your sneaky hand grabbing the forgotten vibrator on the bedside table. With a naughty grin, you hold the base of his cock to keep it still, then turn the vibrator on and press it against his length while your mouth sucks on his tip.

Seungcheol lets out a deep grunt, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes closing tightly. “You little—” he curses, his voice strained. Your smirk widens at his reaction, the vibrations traveling through his body, making him shudder.

“Who’s the villain now?” you tease, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.

His response is a strangled moan, his hips jerking slightly into your mouth. “You... you’re the villain here,” he groans, his hands gripping the sheets. “Fuck!”

The combination of your mouth and the vibrator makes his body tense. You can feel him throbbing in your hand, his muscles tightening as he gets closer to the edge.

You increase the intensity, your hand moving the vibrator up and down his length while your mouth continues its assault on his tip. His breathing becomes ragged, and he’s practically panting now, his moans growing louder with each passing second.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, his voice desperate.

You let go of his tip, a knowing smirk playing on your lips as you realize you’re giving him a taste of his own medicine. The vibrator still buzzes in your hand as you reach for his cock, straddling him and slowly sinking down.

The sensation is electric—your drenched, sopping cunt engulfs him almost like a vacuum, drawing a desperate moan from his lips. His eyes flutter shut, and you can tell he’s loving it just as much as you are by the way his face contorts.

When you bottom out, Seungcheol squirms beneath you, his hands gripping your hips. He reaches for your wrist and places the vibrator on your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you clench around his length.

His moan mingles with a teasing smile, his eyes dark with lust. If he wasn’t a villain before, he definitely looks like one now.

You ride his cock in circles, the vibrations on your clit making your body curl inward, your nails digging into his abdomen. The pleasure is overwhelming, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you move faster, chasing the high that’s just within reach.

His grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you move. “That’s it, baby,” he growls “Just like that.”

Seungcheol sneaks a hand to the vibrator and turns it to the highest level. You grunt, throwing your head back as the intense vibrations radiate through your entire body. He can feel them inside you too, the added stimulation making him groan.

“Fuck, Seungcheol!” you cry out, your voice shaking as you jump up and down on his cock. Your pussy meets his length and then his base, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room.

“Yeah, take it all, baby,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours. “Your pussy is so fucking tight around me.”

You moan louder, the dirty talk driving you wild. “Tell me more,” you gasp, craving more of his words, the filthier, the better.

He thrusts up into you, his own pleasure building as he watches you ride him. “You love this, don’t you? Being my little slut, taking my cock so well,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of speaking through his moans.

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” you reply, your movements becoming more frantic. “I love it, Seungcheol. I love being— Fuck!”

He grins. “You’re so fucking wet for me. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like a desperate little whore.”

You shiver at his words, your body responding eagerly. “Shit, Seungcheol, you feel so good inside me,” you pant. “I want to cum all over your cock.”

“Do it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough. “Cum for me. Show me how much you love it.”

“I’m gonna cum again, Seungcheol,” you gasp, riding him faster. “I want you to cum with me.”

“Fuck, yes,” he grits out, his hands sliding up to your breasts, squeezing them. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

“Cum inside me,” you moan, your nails digging into his chest. “Fill me up, Seungcheol.”

He thrusts up hard, matching your frantic pace. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please,” you beg, leaning back to get a better angle, driving him deeper. Your voice breaking with need. “I need it, Seungcheol. I need your cum.”

His grip on you tightens, and you can feel him getting close. “You’re gonna get it,” he promises, his voice rough. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby.”

Seungcheol presses the vibrator harder against your swollen clit, and you convulse on him, your body shaking uncontrollably from the combined sensations.

“Fuck,” he growls, “You’re creaming all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking soaked.”

You moan loudly, barely able to respond as the vibrations and his cock drive you wild. “Yes, Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “I’m so wet for you.”

He chuckles darkly, his eyes locked on yours as he continues to thrust upward, hitting every sensitive spot inside you. “Hm… The way you’re dripping all over me. I can feel every drop.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you bounce harder, trying to chase the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t stop cumming,” you whimper. “It’s too much.”

Seungcheol’s breathing grows ragged, his gaze fixed on the way your pussy pulses around him. “That’s right. Let go for me. I want to see you lose control. You’re such a fucking mess for me.”

The pressure of the vibrator against your clit makes you cry out. “I’m cumming so hard,” you moan. “I can’t handle it.”

He grunts, his voice deep and raw. “That’s it, baby. Cream all over my cock. I love how you’re losing it. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.”

Your eyes roll back. “Seungcheol,” you cry out, your body arching and trembling. “I’m gonna—”

He groans as he feels your inner muscles clench around him, the vibrations making every nerve in your body explode. “Yeah, let it all out,” he commands. “Show me how much you fucking need me.”

You convulse one last time, your vision blurring as the orgasm washes over you. Seungcheol holds you tightly, his cock still buried deep inside you as he continues to grind against your clit, making sure you get every last ounce of pleasure.

Seungcheol wastes no time, flipping you over onto all fours like you're a rag doll. The sudden shift leaves you breathless, your body pliant and obedient to his every move. He quickly turns the vibrator off and tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. His hands find your ass, squeezing and fondling your cheeks.

Without missing a beat, he thrusts his cock back inside you, abusing your sweet spot with relentless precision. You feel the sting of your skin meeting his pelvis with each strong thrust.

You bite down on the pillow, muffling your sobs as your body trembles beneath him. The orgasm still pulses through you, but now Seungcheol is fucking you through it with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

His grip tightens on your hips, one foot propped up on the mattress to give him more leverage. The bed creaks under you, the mattress springs creaking.

His moans become whiny and throaty. You can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching inside you with every thrust, and the sight of the white ring around his shaft driving him feral.

Summoning strength you didn't know you had, you lift your head and glance over your shoulder. You need to see his 'bad boy' posture crumble.

Seungcheol's face is a picture of raw emotion, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent cry. His expression is utterly shattered, as if he's about to break down and cry like a boy.

The sight of him like this, so helpless and undone, makes you squeeze harder around him. The reaction is immediate—Seungcheol's eyes roll back, and his hips slam into yours, grinding deep as he reaches he orgasms.

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He groans as he cums harder than ever before, his hips twitching with each spurt. The room is loaded with the sounds of his heavy breathing and the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joined together.

He stays buried inside you for a moment, savoring the sensation of your bodies connected, his cum still dripping from where he's filled you to the brim.

Seungcheol sleeps soundly, like a baby, his face peaceful and unburdened. In that moment, it doesn't matter who he is or where he is; his mind is completely consumed by thoughts of you.

The room is quiet, the only sound being your synchronized breaths. Exhausted and spent, you don't even have the strength to clean up. You sleep without a care, even as his cum slowly drips down your thighs.

[...]

Morning breaks gently, the soft light of dawn seeping through the curtains. Seungcheol stirs, his senses gradually returning to him. But something feels off. He blinks his eyes open, expecting to see you lying beside him. Instead, he’s met with a sight that jolts him fully awake.

You’re floating.

Your body is hovering a few inches above the bed, suspended in mid-air. Your eyes are wide with shock, mirroring his own as you both take in the surreal scene.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper, your voice tinged with panic. “Lower me down.”

He scrambles out of bed, his mind racing to process what he’s seeing. Without hesitation, he reaches out, his hands gently guiding you back down to the bed. The moment your body touches the mattress, the floating sensation ceases, leaving you both staring at each other in stunned silence.

You sit up slowly, your hands trembling slightly as you brush your hair back. “Wasn’t the injection supposed to last only for a few hours?” you ask.

Seungcheol, still healing from the sight of you floating, nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s what they said. But…maybe there’s more to it. Maybe it’s affected you in ways we didn’t expect.”

“So, does this mean you can fuck me while I'm floating in mid-air?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He laughs, a surprised sound escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly caught off guard by your audacity.

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hyunsvngs · 11 months

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her.

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed.

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore.

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness.

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.”

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had.

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth.

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth.

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival.

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch.

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film.

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right.

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you.

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday.

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now.

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again.

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation.

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect.

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.”

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you.

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker.

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly.

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made.

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully.

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation.

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need.

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.”

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw.

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened.

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too.

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure.

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message.

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top.

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.”

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you.

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you.

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you.

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again.

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex.

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you.

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted.

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die.

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable.

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

7K notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 9 months

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𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: You feel something while sitting on your boyfriend's lap, and you have the perfect idea on how to help him.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, virgin!reader, oral sex (m. receiving), spitting, praising, reader gives her first blowjob, not mentioned but implied age gap

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The fact that you were inexperienced wasn’t an issue for Toji, in fact, he likes the fact that you didn’t really have many boyfriends. He likes to teach you how to do certain things– But he does hate certain things. He hates the fact that you would tease him without knowing so.

Just randomly sitting on his lap, and kissing the most random spots makes Toji think the wildest possible thoughts. And he swears that sometimes you wear skimpy clothes just to tease him. But he knows you can be naïve, or maybe you’re just a little demon that loves to make Toji’s life impossible. Regardless, Toji doesn’t rush you to do anything that you don’t want to do.

Toji really does love you, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck in a sexless relationship. Sex isn’t a necessity but it is nice. He’d never make a comment about it to you though since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or put any unnecessary pressure on you. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible with him. But sometimes that comes at a great cost to him.

You sit on his lap, moving around to make yourself comfortable, and Toji bites down on his lip. You catch a glimpse of him, and he looks… Awkward. His elbow is on the end table that’s next to the couch, his chin resting on his hand while he looks away.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask him, and Toji hums in response. You shift on his lap and you feel it, making your face grow hot. You take a moment to think of how to react, before wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to help you.”

“Huh?” Toji raises his brow and asks, a bit taken back by what you just said. You stand up from his lap, grabbing his hand before attempting to pull him up from the couch. He stands up, asking, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to help you with your little problem.” You repeat, trying to lead him to his bedroom, and Toji hesitantly follows.

“Are you sure… I mean… This isn’t what I had in mind for you.” Toji says, and he almost wants to slap himself for even thinking of turning you down. He’s suddenly become the most moral man on Earth, which he thought was impossible a couple of years ago.

“I’m sure.” You answer, forcing your boyfriend to sit down on the edge of his bed. You peck his lips and then his cheeks. Your lips go up to his ear, “It’s about time I give you a blowjob.”

“Just a blowjob, right?” Toji asks as you begin to pull down his sweatpants. It’s no surprise to you when you find him not wearing any underwear. Your eyes widen at the size of him though, and you’re wondering just how he’ll fit in your mouth.

“Yeah… Just a blowjob.” You answer as you get on your knees, your hand wrapping at the base of his cock. Toji watches you as you bite down your lip, unsure of how you want to start off. You've surely watched some videos, just to do this for him but your mind goes blank when you're in the moment.

“Spit on it, baby.” Toji tells you, making you roll your eyes as you bring your lips together. You do as he says, before your hand begins to stroke his cock. Your tongue licks the tip of his cock before it begins to circle around it. Toji really thought he would have to guide you through it, but it seems like you know what to do. At least for now.

Your mouth wraps around his cock, hollowing your cheeks before you begin to bob your head up and down on his cock. You take in as much as you can take, which isn’t a lot– It disappoints you, but Toji is over the moon. At least that’s what it seems when your eyes look up to find his head thrown back. Toji isn’t the type to really make any noise but he wants to know that you’re making him feel so good, “Your mouth feels so fucking good–”

Your jaw begins to get tired, so you lift your head, your tongue focusing on circling on the tip of his cock again. Toji looks down at you, and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. He’s pictured this same exact scene so many different times, and he thought he’d never see the day.

“Your cock’s so big, baby.” You tell him, stroking his length. He grabs your head, and you slightly stand up for a moment to make it easier for him to kiss you. His tongue presses against yours, and when he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your lips, “I want to hear you moan for me, Toji.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Toji says, as you settle on your knees again. Your tongue licks from the base of his cock to the tip of his cock. Your mouth wraps around him again, while your hand begins to play with his balls. Your other hand strokes the part of his cock that your mouth isn’t wrapped around.

“Ngh– Fucking love your mouth.” Toji begins to moan your name, doing just as you want him to. He wants to keep you happy so this happens again. He’s thinking of you in a different position though… It’s too selfish to voice. He doesn’t want to rush you in any way but he’s only imagining how nice and tight your pussy feels. “You’re doing such a good job. Shit.”

Toji gets louder by the second, biting down his lip to suppress his moans, his breathing slowly getting heavier. His hand grips the bed until his cock twitches in your mouth, his salty cum hitting the back of your throat. Most of it drips down your mouth and goes down to your chin.

You lift your head, and Toji’s thumb runs up your chin, gathering his cum before he swipes it on your bottom lip. He praises you, “You did such a good job, baby…”

He bends down to kiss your lips, getting some of his own cum on his mouth. It’s not the first time it happens. He smirks down at you before he tells you, “But you’re gonna have to learn to swallow.”

4K notes · View notes

itissocool · 2 years

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it's time for a moral oral blog!

Go ahead and ask the puppington family about the lifestyles and stuff! Everyone in moraliton is waiting! Here you are!

Today we will go over the puppington family!

Orel Puppington

Orel Puppington is the protagonist of the series. He is an 11 (later 12) year-old boy whose quest is to be moral and good, which drives most of the plots of the episodes. He collects religious action figures and makes short animated movies with them. In his attempts to remain moral, he listens to Reverend Putty's sermons very closely. Even though he's very attentive and always means well, Orel tends to misinterpret the minister's teachings, leading to chaos for both him and the town.

The special "Beforel Orel" reveals that, even for a four-year-old, Orel was naive to a hazardous degree and didn't have the slightest understanding of God or hadn't been inducted into the towns corrupted version of Christianity and willingly believed anything that someone told him. Clay, in an attempt to forestall having to be an actual parent, sent Orel off to his grandfather, who taught Orel to think for himself and instilled in him and understanding of lies and truth and to not believe anything without "proof". When Orel was brought back to Moralton and innocently asked for proof of God, an emergency meeting of the church was called, during which Rev. Putty used the story of Abraham nearly sacrificing his son Issac to illustrate that, instead of asking for proof of God, that people should instead prove their belief in God.

Ms. Censordoll later used the fear of Hell to reinforce this lesson. However, this led to Orel nearly sacrificing the newborn Shapey until his grandfather arrived and put a stop to it.One aspect of the show is Orel's slow awakening to the flaws of the people around him as well as expanding his personal belief system beyond the rigid fundamentalist Christian doctrine of the town.

In "Praying", Orel defies his father's orders and uses Buddhist meditation to deal with his stress.

In "Charity", Orel became a full-fledged drug addict. While in "Orel's Movie Premiere", Orel (perhaps without realizing the implications) uses rather harsh portrayals of the people around him in his home movies, most notably portraying his father as a sadistic, drunken snarling wolf (which in turn led to Dr. Potterswheel asking Clay if he was molesting his son to make Orel see him as such a monster) while still referring to the appearance as a "loyal and good" puppy, still somewhat unaware of Clay's true character.

After the disastrous sequence of events in the two-part season two finale "Nature", Orel loses all respect for his father.

When Clay shoots him in the leg in a drunken state, followed by drinking the disinfectant and subsequently denying fault for the incident, Orel not only tells his father for the first time that he hates him, but when asked if he shot a bear that had wandered into their camp whilst Clay was passed out, Orel lies and states that it was Clay who had shot it in order to deny him the joy of fatherly pride. Later on, after "Hunting", Orel is seen still being polite and cheerful towards the townspeople, but becoming incredibly emotionally distant towards Clay: "Nesting" shows Orel being completely indifferent to Clay's threats of punishment in his study, completely in contrast to the audible gulp that took place in previous situations of the similar. As a result of the shooting (and likely Dr. Potterswheel's incompetent job in healing the leg), Orel gets a permanent limp, which Dino Stamotopolus said would have been kept throughout the series had it continued (and is indeed shown in the show's final scene of an adult Orel).

Orel has yet to realize the flaws of the people in Moralton including his mother and his whole family (including his grandparents), though this is partly because Orel refuses to see anything but the good in people.In the series finale, Orel realizes the exact nature of his father's relationship with Coach Stopframe, but the realization doesn't bother him much and a substantial bond between them develops. It's also shown that at the end, despite the apparent collapse of his family, Orel ultimately becomes a much better man than his father ever was, marrying his childhood sweetheart Christina Posabule and maintaining a loving, happy family with two kids and a puppy, unlike his still unhappy parents.

Orel is voiced by Carolyn Lawrence.

I love oral he is adorable

Clay Puppington

Clayton Middleinitial "Clay" Puppington is Orel's strict, abusive, alcoholic father and the main antagonist of the show, who tries to keep his home in line with a 1950s style of living. This masks the fact that Clay is an abusive alcoholic who hates his job as mayor of Moralton, his marriage, and his father.As a child, Clay was the only surviving child of his parents, as his mother's drinking, smoking, and fun-loving lifestyle (including riding roller coasters, jumping on a trampoline, and horseback riding) caused her to miscarry ten of Clay's unborn siblings before he was born (largely because Clay's mother spent all of her pregnancy with Clay praying for his safety).

Clay's mother was a religious zealot, who spoiled Clay rotten and instructed him in the various "lost commandments" of Moses. This created tension with Clay's father, who was outright neglected by his wife in favor of his son, to the point that he was forced to eat his son's leftovers. Clay's father did try to remain a part of his life and often warned Clay of his mother's heart condition. Clay unintentionally changed life forever when he faked his own death as a prank on his mother, causing her to have a fatal heart attack.

Clay's father (who was not deeply religious) never forgave Clay for his part in his mother's death and emotionally shunned his son, ultimately telling him that he's "not even worth it" upon an initial refrain from slapping him. This deeply affected Clay, causing him to seek out his father's abuse as a means to gain any sort of emotional response and validation. The two formed a casual hatred towards each other and blaming each other for the death of Clay's mother. His love for his mother would develop into an Oedipus complex many years later, as shown in "Nesting".

Clay's father gives his gun, Ol’ Gunny, to him saying he is ending the male Puppington tradition of passing along the gun to one's first born son, because it's tainted with blood and wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Not wanting to feel responsible for his mother's death, Clay says he'll keep the tradition going.

When Clay was in his early twenties, he was much similar to Orel, shown to be a rather mild figure who wanted to spend his days studying the Bible and drinking apple juice, showing he had a chance to have a happy life. While attending a wedding, Clay met Bloberta Hymentact. Bloberta asked about his family, Clay said "my parents are dead," not telling her the truth about his father being alive. The two went to the wedding reception together, where Bloberta introduced Clay to liquor. She believed that alcohol relaxed people for the better (mainly because that's what it had done to her father), and even used a religious justification ("Jesus drank") in order to get him to drink. Alcohol caused a massive switch in Clay's personality, turning him into a womanizer and drunken partier, before ultimately causing Bloberta to punch Clay unconscious in order to keep him from flirting with other women.

Afterwards, Bloberta lied to Clay, telling him that he passed out and that she looked after him while he was unconscious. She then pressed him to marry her, citing that he needs someone like her to "help" him. Clay agreed, but by this point the damage was done as Clay was now a full-blown alcoholic who spent most of his wedding flirting with other women, getting drunk, and ultimately getting arrested after the wedding for driving under the influence.Clay largely hates his family, not remembering his children's names or caring when one of his children (Shapey) is briefly switched with another child (Block). This is taken to an extreme in the episode "Numb" when he assumes Shapey and Block are a liquor-induced hallucination. He's rather misogynistic, believing that women differ from men in the ability to fulfill themselves solely through tending to their husbands. The show also reveals that Clay becomes sexually aroused when watching Bloberta do such chores, ultimately leading him to partake in voyeuristic swinger-style housekeeping.

He's close friends with Coach Daniel Stopframe, who secretly lusts after Clay and the two constantly border on a homoerotic relationship. It has been shown that Stopframe is Clay's chief enabler as far as feeding his dependency on liquor and went as far as to seduce and impregnate Bloberta in order to be near him. Clay's actual sexuality has been a topic of debate and discussion amongst fans, with some speculating he is a closeted bisexual or homosexual. Throughout the show, he expresses a genuine distaste for woman, especially Bloberta. In Nature, he compares woman to his alcohol addiction, perhaps showing he feels forced to be attracted to them. Although he slept with female strippers in season 2, it should be noted this could be a result of societal conditioning and compulsive heterosexually.He will often bring Orel into his study to discuss various misdeeds Orel often does after dealing out "a good belting" to the boy. The lessons usually have little to do with the actual damage he caused, usually focusing on "the lesser of two evils". For example, when confronting Orel for raising the dead, Clay is more concerned with the fact that Orel created naked zombies (by removing their clothes prior to resurrecting them) than for actually creating zombies. Also, when Orel develops an unintentional addiction to crack cocaine, he's punished by Clay for speaking slang rather than smoking it.

"Nesting" however, reveals that Orel has become completely indifferent to his father's threats.He also has a collection of firearms in his study, including a Heckler & Koch PSG1 sniper rifle and what is revealed in "Nature Pt.1" to be an extensive arsenal. During a mostly unsuccessful camping trip with Orel, a drunk Clay rants violently about how awful his life is and then shoots Orel in the leg but denies any responsibility. He sinks even lower when, in "Honor," it's revealed that he continues to blame Orel for the injury, telling anyone who asked that it had happened because his son was either clumsy or had gotten in the way.

While Clay tries to maintain the facade that his life is perfectly happy, he is ultimately a pathetic, cruel, worthless, self-pitying, misogynistic, emotionally immature, and self-centered man who no longer cares for anyone but himself. However, to his credit, Clay is willing to raise two children who he knows are not his own, one of whom being the product of his wife's extramarital affair. He rants harshly about both life and relationships, and feels that he's never in control of his own life. He is ill-equipped to deal with life's problems and takes out his anger or frustration on his family, friends, and the town. Clay often complains about his "stinking dead-end job" and being "buried in paperwork". In the penultimate episode, it's revealed, even to Orel's surprise, that Clay is actually the Mayor of Moralton. On a document in his office his full name is shown to be Mayor Clayton Middleinitial Puppington.

In "Honor", Clay finally (though indirectly) admits his feelings for Coach Stopframe, in front of his wife and children. Stopframe, however, coldly refuses him, saying it's "too late" and Clay leaves dejected and defeated. A picture of him and Bloberta both frowning is seen on the wall in Orel's home in the final scene suggesting that they are still unhappy together, a stark contrast to Orel and Christina.

In "Beforel Orel", Clay was shown to have little confidence to talk to Orel about anything and tried avoided talking to him at all times. He hated the idea of Bloberta being pregnant with Shapey (not knowing he wasn't his). Through most of the time, he's seen whining about having another child to take care of. Near the end, he talks for the first time with his father, Arthur. During their talk, it is seen how Arthur's rejection has affected Clay and for a moment Arthur may show regret. The moment is gone quick, as Clay refuses to reconcile with his father and forbids him from seeing Orel. It's hinted Clay may actually miss his father, as he looked regretful when Arthur left.

He is voiced by Scott Adsit.

(Tldr) he is a train wreak!

Bloberta Puppington (née Hymentact)

Bloberta Puppington (née Hymentact) is Orel and Shapey's mother. The forgotten and shunned middle child of a family choir (forbidden from participating due to her mother's blatant favoritism for both her older sister and her younger brother), she was her mother's least favorite child due to her terrible voice. Out of both desperation and loneliness, Bloberta manipulated Clay Puppington into marrying her after only knowing him for a day, largely as a means to escape her family and to be accepted alongside her friends who were also engaged. She is a strict, stereotypical housewife known for her obsessive-compulsive cleanliness (she is shown scrubbing the very cleaning products she uses, the underside of the kitchen floor tiles, and even sweeping the lawn). It's revealed that during the couple's first date, Bloberta introduced Clay to liquor, assuming that drinking would make him a better person and reasoning with Clay that "Jesus drank". However, she becomes disgusted by Clay's drunken boorishness, and turns to obsessive cleaning as her new crutch to cope (only to marry him shortly afterward, regardless).

"Beforel Orel" shows she's not too different from her present-self and cared little that Orel almost walked in on her, while she was cheating on Clay with Coach Stopframe. It's also shown that when she went into labor, Bloberta had to perform the entire procedure herself as Dr. Potterswheel had left the room when Orel had started asking Clay questions about reproduction.

Bloberta and Clay have a dysfunctional relationship, with Bloberta often shown to be emotionally abusive towards Clay, taunting him over his drunkenness and failures as an adult. She also withholds sex from her husband, going as far as to force her husband to sleep in a separate bed next to her own, with a partition titled 'Lust Guard' placed between them. In the Christmas episode, she and Clay argue over Shapey's alleged paternity, causing Clay to accuse her of infidelity and storm out. When Orel attempts to reunite the family for Christmas, Bloberta coldly tells Orel to spend it with Clay himself, taking Shapey and leaving Orel in town. Later, to avoid embarrassment for their incompetence as parents, the two reunite out of concerns what will the people of Moralton think if they separate.

The episode "Numb" revealed that Bloberta hasn't had a proper orgasm in years, and has mutilated her genitalia from using various power drills for masturbation. She tries to find a sex partner, but is turned down by various men. When asked by Orel why she married Clay, she simply responds "Why not?" mimicking her wedding vows instead of giving an actual reason. During the first season she seems to dote on her second son Shapey, who was the result of an extramarital affair Bloberta had with Orel's bisexual gym teacher Coach Stopframe. Bloberta spoiled Shapey, though this was largely a means to silence his constant temper tantrums. However, when Clay found out the truth about Shapey, Bloberta began to turn her illegitimate son away; this ultimately led to Shapey being accidentally switched with another child, and Bloberta failing to notice for several months.

She shows little love to Orel, not even getting upset when Orel is shot and never confronts Clay about the incident. She is shown in "Honor" to get excited and happy under the impression that her family is going out caroling together, only to be disappointed when she realizes that it is a scheme of Clay's to see Stopframe (showing her desire for a truly happy family). She is last shown in a photograph frowning with Clay at the end of "Honor", implying that they are still unhappily married.

She is voiced by Britta Phillips.

Bloberta is racist :(

Shapey Puppington and Block Posabule

Shapey Puppington is Orel's half-brother and biological son of Coach Daniel Stopframe. Shapey is a seven-year-old boy with the mentality of a three-year-old: he acts out, throws tantrums when not getting his way, shouts, and rarely speaks any complete sentences, usually communicating in one or two word screams ("Drink!", "Mine!", "Cake!", "Shut up!"). He was even still breastfed by his mother at the age of seven, although he is weaned later in the show. His parents, Clay and Bloberta, spoil him rotten in order to stop him from screaming and to prove that they are good parents (although judging from Shapey's behavior, they seem to be unknowingly and ironically proving the opposite). Orel often tries to discipline his brother and stop him from doing dangerous things, only to be scolded by his parents for upsetting the younger boy. Running gags in the show would feature Shapey playing with various dangerous items (such as putting a BB-gun to his eye or hardware tools in his mouth) and constantly asking his mother to breastfeed him.

In the Season Two episode "The Lord's Prayer" he was accidentally replaced by Block Posabule (born January 3, 1999), the son of the Puppington's new neighbors, The Posabules. Clay seemed to notice the difference, but he shrugged it off and has shown no further interest in the matter due to his selfishness, and belief that the "double child" is an alcohol-induced hallucination. Clay seems to eventually realize it though, at one point referring to "two illegitimates". No one else in either family noticed, apart from Orel and Block's sister Christina—despite the Posabules moving away, taking Shapey with them, inadvertently leaving Block in his place, at the end of the episode. However, in several later episodes such as Repression, Orel bluntly tries to tell his father "That's not Shapey," but is ignored. The main difference between the two is their hair color (Block is a redhead, while Shapey is blond) and head shape (Shapey's head is round while Block's is more thin); their behaviors are much the same (although Block is often in a happier mood and rarely does he scream). In the episode "Numb", Bloberta finally figures it out after going through a family album. When she goes to the Posabules' house to retrieve him, Mrs. Posabule gives back Shapey and abandons Block after he shows love for Bloberta, forcing her to adopt Block. The two bond to one another instantly. At the end of the episode "Sacrifice", Shapey speaks calmly for the first time, telling Bloberta, "Mommy, when I'm thirsty, it feels how I feel when I'm alone.

"In "Honor" they are both shown as having calmed down significantly, with pictures of them in the final scene showing Shapey becoming a police officer, and Block becoming a firefighter.

They are both voiced by Tigger Stamatopoulos, the daughter of show creator and executive producer Dino Stamatopoulos.

Shapey is always adorable!

Angela Puppington

Angela Puppington was Clay's mother, and utterly devoted to her son. She held him well above her husband Arthur, to the point of serving Arthur Clay's leftovers from his dinner plate. She had ten pregnancies before Clay (Clark, Clarissa, Clementine, Clara, Clarice, Clea, Clancy, Clarence, Clinton, and Clondike), but lost them all from her smoking, drinking, and participation in high impact activities during pregnancy (apparently not realizing these were what led to the miscarriages). During Clay's pregnancy, she devoted all her time to prayer, forgetting such other things. She considers Clay her miracle child, and is a devout fundamentalist to the point of believing that "there are no accidents, only evil and miracles." Clay's mother was a religious zealot, who spoiled Clay rotten and instructed him in the various, fabricated "lost commandments" of Moses. The word "dead", or words that contain that sound ("loaded", "ended"), startle and upset her after having to face the deaths of so many unborn children; she is quick to admonish her husband ("don't you say that word!") if he dares to utter any word with a similar sound, even if it only has the "-ded" suffix.

She has a weak heart, and when Clay fakes his death as a prank, she breaks down, asking God to take her instead. When Arthur reveals that Clay is still alive, she believes it to be a miracle. The shock proves too much for her heart, and she dies of a heart attack. Clay, when drinking, is seen to reflect on the events of that night. He uses his mother's "lost commandments" to teach Orel when he does something wrong, and has them mounted on plaques around the walls of his study. Her death is shown to have affected Clay deeply, and his love for his mother has subsequently crystallized into an Oedipus Complex.

She was very very very nice!

Arthur Puppington

Arthur Puppington was Clay's father. He once had a great relationship with his wife Angela, but she became obsessed with her "miracle child" Clay when he was born, neglecting Arthur. He begrudgingly deals with it, pining for the times they had before Clay's birth. He attempts to pass "Ol' Gunny" on to his son, but Clay proves too afraid to hold the revolver. He is not deeply religious and more sane than anyone else in his family.

When Clay plays his prank, Arthur notices the half-empty bottle of ketchup and realizes that Clay is merely faking, shaking Clay until he stops. When Angela dies, Arthur becomes openly bitter towards Clay. He often refers to Clay's "murder" of his mother, and passes Ol' Gunny to him not as part of the tradition, but because it is "tainted" with Angela's blood. Both Arthur and Clay hate each other because of Angela's death. His previous disregard of Angela's fundamental views seems to have developed into full atheism (as he said to the men bringing his wife's dead body to the hospital truck that there was no heaven and was the only one not praying during Angela's funeral).

Soon after Angela's death, Arthur prepares to smack Clay when the boy tells him he'll go to hell for saying there was no heaven, but holds back, claiming Clay to be "not even worth it". From then on, Clay begins thinking of corporal punishment as a show of love, a show that he is worth it, and takes every opportunity to earn it. His father gives his gun to Clay saying he is ending the male Puppington tradition because it is tainted with blood and wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Not wanting to feel responsible for his mother's death, Clay says he'll keep the tradition going only to fail terribly with Orel during the hunting trip.Years later when Clay is an adult, Bloberta ask about his family, Clay said "my parents are dead", not telling her the truth about Arthur being alive all these years.Also, one episode Orel got birthday money from his grandfather (Arthur), irritating Clay.

"Beforel Orel" reveals that Arthur lives on a farm far in Sinville and has disdain of the town and its beliefs. It is on this farm that Arthur attempts to impart some of his own knowledge to Orel and the two bond very quickly. His beliefs seem to change from atheism to slightly indifferent about God, though there's no real reason why the change. There are a few possibilities as to why he was now indifferent, he didn't want to push his beliefs on Orel; Orel being innocent and not knowing of God didn't annoy him so much since Clay and Angela were religious zealots; or simply he wished to keep his beliefs or lack thereof to himself. As he did try avoiding talking about God to Orel. Arthur does begin to bond with his grandson and acts more of a parent to him than Bloberta or Clay. Orel still trusts his grandfather above everyone else, despite Clay's efforts to make him hate his grandfather.

Throughout the series Clay fails to make peace with his father, and his father never forgives Clay about Angela's death. In "Beforel Orel", there was a moment when Arthur saw how he had affected Clay with his rejection. And for a moment may have felt concern or regret, but it goes quickly.

According to Scott Adsit, had the series continued beyond the third season, Arthur Puppington would have become a regular member of the show's cast, returning to live with Clay after learning that he was dying from a terminal illness. Arthur would be the only parent figure to Orel. Bloberta would not be pleased about Clay's lie about his father being dead. Clay would have proven Arthur right about Clay being ultimately a pathetic, oafish, self-centered man who has no love for anyone other than himself. Orel and Arthur would've started to get along with each other.

Mrs. Hymentact

Mrs. Hymentact is Bloberta's mother, and the domineering matriarch of the Hymentact family. She leads the rest of the family, with the exception of Bloberta, in a family choir. Mrs. Hymentact blatantly favors her oldest daughter and youngest son over middle child Bloberta, going so far as to ban Bloberta from singing in the family choir in favor of her older sister, saying "You know we don't need two sopranos." She keeps everyone in line and reacts to the slightest misstep with loud screaming, having completely crushed the spirit of her husband Raymond in this way. Bloberta and her father fail to stand up against Mrs. Hymentact, instead seeming to have resigned themselves to lives thwarted and dominated by her.

Years later, Bloberta mirrors her mother's habits by showing favoritism towards Shapey. Another habit is bossing Clay around. Bloberta denies this. In "Honor" Bloberta shows that she tries to be better than her mother by wanting to have Orel in the family choir.Bloberta may have realized that she did her mother a favor by leaving the Hymentact family. Mrs. Hymentact may be glad that Bloberta is gone. Throughout the series, Bloberta failed to stand up to her mother.

She is Orel's grandmother, but it is not shown that the two of them have ever met.

Raymond Hymentact

Raymond Hymentact is Bloberta's father. He constantly shakes and is never seen without a drink in hand. His domineering wife has crushed his spirit, and he is completely afraid of her, reacting at even a glare with "I'll shut up!" He deeply cares for Bloberta, and sneaks to her room to console her when she feels left out, although he is jittery the whole time, worrying that his wife will catch him (implying as to how much Mrs. Hymentact doesn't like Bloberta). Despite his obvious fear and shortcomings, Bloberta believes that her father's drinking helps to make him a better person and seeks to set that same standard for Clay. However, her plan backfired badly. Bloberta may or may not realize that drinking is the real reason why her father, Clay, herself, and most of the town are weak people. One thing Raymond is right about (that his wife will never agree with) is that nobody is "perfect".

Raymond is Orel's grandfather, although the two appear never to have met.

Modella Hymentact

Modella Hymentact is Bloberta's older sister. She is the sole soprano in the family choir. One of Mrs. Hymentact's favorite children. Although she is Orel's aunt, the show contains no suggestion that the two have ever met.

Modella has the same birthday as Mr. and Mrs. Christein's son, Junior.

She is voiced by Jeanette Baity.

Lunchbox Hymentact

Lunchbox Hymentact is Bloberta's red-headed, freckled little brother, who is a part of the family choir. He is also rude, a little self-confident, and obnoxious. His mother hits him in the head in order for him to be quiet. It is possible that "Lunchbox" is a nickname or genital-related euphemism; when Bloberta enters the room and begins to sing along, off-key, with the rest of the family, Mrs. Hymentact first asks Modella if it was she who sang out of tune. Modella denies this, to which Bloberta's mother replies "Well, it certainly wasn't our little Lunchbox here!", suggesting that Bloberta's brother has progressed far enough in the stages of puberty to be unable to sing in so high a register.

According to Dino Stamatopoulos' Twitter page, Lunchbox was named after a stop-motion device which allowed for them to see the previous and next shot with the push of a button.

It is possible that Mrs. Hymentact had an affair with someone else who is Lunchbox's father, just like Bloberta had her affair with Coach Stopframe, who is Shapey's father.

Lunchbox would be Orel's uncle, but it is not suggested that he and Orel have ever met.

That's their family!

I love that you read this <3

#moral orel #My new blog #meet the characters #Yes this includes art in the blog!#illustration #art #Very very very underrated #clay puppington #oral puppington #bloberta puppington #shapey puppington #Lunchbox Hymentact #Modella Hymentact #Mrs Hymentact #arthur puppington #angela puppington #raymond hymentact #I love moral oral

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pretty-little-mind33 · 4 months

Text

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Your brother's best friend teaches you pleasures you've never experienced before.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: dark themes (kinda?), james is kinda morally grey in this, james is nineteen, reader is eighteen, reader is sirius's little sister (no physical descriptions!!), innocent!reader - she has never had an orgasm, sub!reader, virgin!reader, mean dom!james, swearing, corruption, penetrative sex, fingering, nipple play, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, praise, spanking, slapping (sexual), choking, exhibitionism, almost getting caught, crying from sexual overstimulation, reader is hesitant in the beginning but not unwilling, bleeding from loss of virginity.

~ this is absolutely filthy. enjoy. 😩🫶 ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

"Siri?" you ask as you adjust the hem of your dress.

Your brother's attention leaves his friends and he looks at you, his eyes narrowing, "What are you wearing?" he asks and crosses his arms, surprise obvious in his tone.

You smooth a hand over the silk, "A dress. I-I have a date," you explain.

"A date?" James Potter, Sirius's best friend, interrupts as he turns around. You see a glimmer in his hazel eyes as your eyes find his and take him in; how his hair is damp from a shower, the way his shirt hugs his shoulders, and the round, black-framed, glasses on his nose.

James sends you a smirk, "I didn't know you went on dates, Y/n/n," he teases.

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and Sirius slaps his hand backwards to hit James's chest and push him away a little, "Shut up," He hisses. Then, he looks you dead in the eyes, "Who is it?"

"Huh?"

"Your date? Who. Is. It?"

"William. You know, my friend? You've met him," you explain, a little surprised at Sirius's worry. William is kind, he's funny and he's safe.

You know loving him wouldn't hurt you like other boys would.

Unconsciously, you glance at James and when he sees you looking at him he asks, "The super skinny one?" He is obviously suppressing a smile, and Sirius's shoulders visibly relax.

"Oh," your brother sounds reassured, "He's fucking harmless."

"Harmless?" you ask but Sirius must have lost interest in your conversation because he just shoos you with his hand and starts a conversation with another one of his friends.

You want to scream.

"Hey," James senses your annoyance, "What's up?"

You tilt your head up at him, a little embarrassed to ask him. James has always made you a little nervous but these last months have been simply torturous and you don't understand why, "I don't have any cute jackets to match with my dress and I wanted to ask Sirius if he has one I could borrow."

James chuckles, "You can borrow one of mine," he hovers a hand over the small of your back and turns you to the stairs that lead to the dorms. You nod and allow him to guide you up the stairs. You sit on the end of James's bed, watching, as he rummages inside his trunk.

James pulls out a burgundy bomber jacket, and holds it up to you for approval. "You know, usually you'd ask your date for his jacket," he mentions with a smile. You stand and with a small smile, take the jacket from his hands.

"Oh?"

"At least that's what happens when I go on dates," he winks and your heart sinks at the mention of him dating someone. You nervously play with the sleeve of James's jacket and avoid his gaze.

"I mean, I wouldn't know—"

James pauses and frowns, "What was that?"

"I said, I wouldn't know," you say less quietly, "I mean, I've never been on a date."

You look up and James looks you up and down and then slowly makes his way to your eyes again. "But you have done other things, haven't you?" Your heart pounds and he clarifies boldly, "You have been kissed? You must have—I mean a girl like you. You can tell me, I'm not Sirius."

You turn your head, embarrassment pricking at your skin, until you feel his hand tilt your chin up at him again. When you look at him, his eyes, even while accompanied by the tenderness of his tone, look dark.

"Do you even know how to kiss someone, Y/n? Where your hands go? How much pressure to use? Where to touch?"

You shake your head slowly but you can't tear your eyes away.

"Oh, you sweet thing, you don't know a thing do you?"

Your cheeks burn and your skin tingles but James soothes you with a soft sound and a warm palm resting on your cheek. "Shush, that's just fine, love. Do'you want me to show you? So you don't embarrass yourself tonight?" James asks kindly, but a shiver runs up your arm.

You're frozen. James pushes some hair behind your ear and his face is so close to yours now. "I-" you whisper, "I don't know."

James smiles a little and his hands move down your arms to capture your wrists. He brings them up to his cheeks, "Here," his voice is smooth as honey as he allows you to touch him. "Good girl," he mutters when he slides your palm over his mouth and kisses it.

"James," you practically whimper, confused but not disliking what's happening.

"Shhh," he interrupts you by leaning in and kissing your cheek and the skin around your ear.

You let out a breathy sound when James's hand wraps around your nape and he holds you just over his lips. Your hands fall from his face to rest at your sides as James looks into your eyes and after a moment, he turns his head and looks to the door, mutters a spell underneath his breath and you hear the latch lock.

Then, almost instantly, his lips crash onto yours.

You're too surprised to push him away, not that you would, but you don't kiss him back until James reprimands you sweetly. "You have to work with me here, darling."

You nod, moving your lips against his, cautiously—unsure—and his hand returns to your nape as he holds you against him. His nose bumps into yours a few times and you feel clumsy as you mutter apologies in between your kisses.

James pulls away and stares at you, his pupils dilated and he smirks. "Open your mouth for me," he demands a little harshly as he tips your head back, "Come on. Wider."

You do as you're told and squeeze your eyes shut when he practically shoves his tongue in your mouth and kisses you again.

There isn't any tenderness in this kiss and you shift your hand to clutch at his shirt. You kind of want him to stop, but a bigger part of you wants him to continue.

To have him claim you as his.

You whimper as the back of your knees hit his bed and James almost falls into you. He disconnects your lips, admiring how swollen yours look, and spins your bodies around.

James sits on the end of his bed and tugs your hips forwards, having your thighs straddle him. "This is how you kiss someone probably, Y/n." One of his hands runs into your hair as the other hooks around your back as he holds you against him.

He kisses you quickly, "Just like this," he murmurs and then slides a hand down to your neck and trails his index in between your breasts.

"Go ahead, kiss me. Show me what you learned, my love."

You hold onto his shoulders, breath uneven as he looks at you expectantly. You shake your head.

James fakes a pout and says, "What's wrong, are you embarrassed?" He starts to move your hips and your dress rides up. James slowly spreads his legs and with a soft moan, you land on one of his thighs only. He continues to move your hips in small circles as your panties rub against his jeans.

You shut your eyes as your insides twist, "James, I- I feel weird," you mutter and instinctively bury your head in his shoulder.

James is still your older brother's best friend. He's someone you trust and as your stomach tightens again you can't help but turn to him for some reassurance.

He cups the back of your head but starts to bounce his knee. "What feels weird?" he coos and presses his cheek in your hair, inhaling your scent. "You can tell me, darling," he reassures.

You squeeze your legs around his thigh and let out another whimper. "It feels weird. D-down there," you feel a little helpless as you cry quietly.

"Since you kissed me?"

James suddenly pauses his movements and he holds you closer. He caresses a hand in your hair. "You're okay. Is this the first time your pussy feels like this?" he mumbles the question hoarsely in your ear and you cry a little harder.

No one has ever asked you a question like that, or mentioned something so private in such an obscene manner.

You don't know what to think or say.

"N-no?" you hiccup.

James kisses your temple. "Can you be more specific for me, darling? I wanna know how I can help you," he teases you.

"I- mean - It happens sometimes. When I'm alone or sometimes w-when you're around," you admit in a whisper, "But it's so much worse now."

James just chuckles darkly and asks, "What do you usually do when this happens? Do you touch yourself?"

You squeal when he bounces you on his thigh again. "N-no! I just let it pass. It usually passes," you sound desperate and when you hear his little sound of disappointment, you bite your lip to prevent yourself from bursting into more tears.

James groans.

Fuck, he shouldn't like this as much as he does but you're just so cute.

You feel James's hand wander up your sides until he reaches your dress straps and without hesitation, he snaps them. The top of your dress starts to slip and instinctively you sit up and cover your chest.

Your eyes shimmer with tears, "James?"

James pulls your hands away. "Shh, I want to see something," he explains, his eyes never leaving your chest as he tugs your dress down so it bunches at your waist. Then, his fingers move around the skin on your back as he unclips your creamy-white bra and it falls to the ground.

You gasp when James cups your breasts in his hands and slowly teases his thumbs over your nipples. Your entire body shivers as the sensation moves to your core. You cry out and try to move away from him.

"This is so much worse than I imagined," James shakes his head and pinches your nipples until you moan in pain, "Poor thing, just relax and let me help you," he says, his voice sickeningly gentle as he moves you from his thigh to kneel in between his legs.

You squirm as James quickly unbuckles his jeans and you look at him. "W-what are you doing?"

"Helping you," he fists a hand in your hair and moves you to him until his cock hits your cheek. James groans and instinctively, you open your mouth to take him. "Suck on that, my darling, you'll feel much better."

You do as he says, tears sliding down your cheeks every time he pushes in further and his cock hits deeper in your throat. You cough and struggle but James doesn’t relent. Instead, he fucks your throat with no mercy and as he coos praises in the midst of raspy moans,

"Shit, you're doing so fucking good for me," he looks down at you through lidded eyelids and smirks, "You're making such a fucking mess," James points out the mixture of drool and pre-cum on the side of your mouth, almost dripping down your cheeks, and you flush with embarrassment.

You want to defend yourself. Tell him it isn't your fault and that you're trying so hard to take him. You want to warn him that the pain in your middle hasn't disappeared and that it't much worse now. But you can't speak with his dick in your mouth.

You start to tap on his thigh lightly, pleading with him through your teary eyes and James understands, "Rub your thighs together. Yeah, there you go," he chuckles, rubbing your head soothingly, and when you do and taunts you, "Such a filthy thing, getting your thighs all sticky because I said so. What would Sirius say if he saw you like this, huh?"

You whimper and close your eyes. You don't want to think about that now. However, James's hand suddenly grips your chin and he pulls his cock out of your mouth. "Don't do that. Don't look away from me." He turns your head harshly and admires the dried tears on your face, "Fuck, Sirius would have my head for this," he whispers.

"Stand up." James orders and you scramble to listen. Your legs feel shaky as you stand in front of him, his head level with your lower stomach.

James hooks his fingers in the remaining of your dress and tugs it over your hips until it falls at your feet. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in, kissing your stomach. Sucking marks on your skin.

He starts to play with the little bow in front of your panties and says mockingly, "How fucking adorable."

You stammer, "James, I don't know if w-we should."

"Shh," he says as his hand moves to cup your pussy, "You're okay. Just relax. You don't need to worry, sweetheart, let me take care of you."

You cover your mouth to suppress a moan as your eyelids flutter. This feels surreal, having him like this. You've wanted him for longer than you can remember, but it was only ever a fucked up fantasy.

It definitely isn't a fantasy anymore.

James slides your panties down, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You feel insecure as his eyes roam around every curve and crease on your skin.

You have to bring your second hand to cover your mouth as well when James pushes his middle finger into your pussy. It hurts but when you squirm, he uses his other hand to steady your hips.

"Shit, you really are a virgin," he starts to move them in and out and you let him, the pain starting to feel like pleasure.

After a few moments of James teasing you with his finger, you feel a weird sensation in your lower stomach. However, before it can come to a finish, your legs tremble and you almost fall over, "Woah," James sounds surprised as he catches you.

He pulls out his finger, feeling your hands squeeze around his shoulders, and looks up. He stands up and gently turns you around with him so he can lay you on his bed. He kneels in between your legs and spreads your thighs.

You look down with him and when you see the inside of your thighs absolutely soaked from your juices, you make a small whimper.

In your mind you look obscene, dirty even, but James doesn't seem to mind, "You're so pretty."

He uses his hands to pull apart your folds and he presses a sloppy kiss to your clit. You moan and squirm.

When you hear him pull down his trousers and take himself out of his boxers again, you whimper. "Wait, please," you whisper and James stands over you, hooking his hands around your thighs and scooting you closer to his hips.

"Hush now," he lines himself up with your entrance, "I'm helping you so that when William fucks you, you're prepared for him." He chuckles but his thumb draws reassuring circles around your hips.

You gasp and feel tears slide down your cheeks, tasting the salt in your mouth, "I-I don't want William to fuck me," you say.

James pushes himself in and at the same time you squeal, he moans, "You're so fuckable though, baby. Shit, you're taking me so well I can barely control myself around you."

He squeezes his hand around your thighs, bruising your skin as he pushes into you. Your hands fist the sheet as James starts to pound into you with no mercy.

"This okay?" he whispers, breaking the dominance for a crucial moment as he looks down at you with what can only be described as pure adoration in his eyes.

"Y-yes," you whimper, as overwhelmed as you are you feel so good.

"Where is my cock, hmm? Where is it?" He suddenly asks harshly as he brings a hand to your chin when you squirm, "Don't you move away from me."

James lightly slaps your cheek, "Answer the question," he snaps. You choke on your cries, barely recognizing the man looming above you.

"Inside me?" You mutter.

"Where?"

"My p-pussy," you bite down on your lip as James thrusts harder and leans in to bury his face into your neck. You gasp as the pleasure intensifies.

"Good girl, fuck," he mutters and nuzzles his nose into your hair, "William might get your first date, but I'll always be the first one to have kissed your lips," James kisses you hungrily, "The first to touch you, to fuck you. And Merlin, you just love to be fucked, don't you? I can feel you clenching around me. You really are a filthy slut."

Suddenly, you hear the door handle rattle and your eyes widen. James pauses a moment but when he hears your brother's voice from behind the door, he forcefully crushes his hand over your mouth and sends you a dark look.

"Prongs? Open the door, I know you're in here!"

James looks down at you and smirks, "I'm fucking busy," he calls out to his friend, his voice strained as he slowly continues his thrusts.

"Don't tell me you're wanking one out now?"

You blush when James laughs. Sirius tries the door again, "Is Y/n in there? I can't find her anywhere."

You squeeze your eyes shut. You're so scared your brother will find you like this. Naked on his best friend's bed.

Merlin, what would he think of you?

"You just missed her. I think she left for her date," James answers with a smirk, still fucking you and hiding your moans and gasps behind his hand.

"Oh, alright," Sirius sighs and then, he slams his palm in the door as an indicator that he’s leaving, and you jump.

James looks down at his cock disappearing into you and waits a moment before groaning, "Come on, look at me inside you," he fists your hair and forces your chin down to look at your pussy.

Your vision blurs as you see your juices mixed with a little bit of blood smeared on your inner thighs and under your ass. Your hands clutch at James shirt, legs trembling as you make small gasping sounds to his thrusts.

"Hush, you're okay baby. It's normal," James coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "It doesn't hurt anymore, yeah?"

You nod.

"Aren't you happy it's me and not William taking your virginity? Making you feel like this?" James says William's name with bitterness and punctuates his words with a harsh thrusts.

He smirks, kneading your breasts and rubbing your nipples. "You look like such a brainless whore."

You moan uncontrollably when James pinches your sides as his hands travel to your pussy and he meanly slaps your clit.

"I've ruined you, baby. Made you so cock hungry for me, huh?" He rubs your clit harder and you start to sob and violently shake your head,

"James!" you plead, "It feels weird. I- something is h-happening."

James just smirks and wipes some drool from the side of your mouth with his thumb. "Aww, sweetheart, are y'gonna come for me?"

"I-w-what?" you mumble, embarrassed.

"You don't even know what that is, do you?" James groans, feeling you clench around him, "Shh, don't you worry. Just let it happen, okay? It’ll feel good. I promise.”

You moan when the pressure finally builds and your legs shake. James continues to fucks you through it until he feels you slip into full bliss and he finally comes inside you, leaving you a shaky blubbering mess from your second orgasm.

He leaves the bed and starts to dress.

You squeeze your thighs and move them around, feeling the stickiness from his cum, yours, and your blood. You shut your eyes and curl into yourself.

James turns to you and immediately shrugs off his shirt. He walks over and sits by your side, "Shhh, here," he pulls the shirt up and over your head, making sure to cover you up, and he kisses your cheek.

His hand runs circles around your thighs and when he spreads them again, his eyes soften when he sees your pussy. "Oh, my darling. What a filthy mess, hmm?"

James walks to his drawer and takes out some tissues, which he uses to gently clean you. You flush with embarrassment as he touches your pussy again.

"William won't wanna fuck you if you're full of my cum," he says calmly

You stare at him with teary eyes. "I don't want William to fuck me. Please, James, don't let him," you feel so sore you can't even fathom someone else touching you.

James's mouth opens but he only lets out a shaky breath. His hand comes to hold your cheeks and you subconsciously lean into his touch as he calms you down. "Okay, love. He won't touch a hair on your pretty head, ok? I promise."

You nod, eyes glossy and you lean into him—seeking his comfort after what happened. James hesitates a moment, his mind filled with guilt and fuzz and then he pulls you in closer to him.

"I- I'm sorry if I was rough on you, my lovely," he whispers into your hair, inhaling your scent and then kissing your hairline.

You hum, your eyes droopy from exhaustion and overstimulation. "It's okay, Jamie," you whisper, "I really liked it. You made me feel good," you say honestly and James smiles.

"Good," he kisses your nose, "You can nap now, love," he say calmly and pulls you into his lap, "I'll watch over you, I promise."

James knows you'll miss your date with William, but he doesn't care. You don't seem concerned either as your breathing calms and your eyelids flutter shut.

Yes, perhaps it is for the best you'll miss your date, James thinks, you're his now and he'll make damn sure he keeps you.

His darling girl.

2K notes · View notes

eddiesxangel · 3 months

Text

That’s that me, Espresso | rockstar!eddie

@mmunson86 requested: I can’t stop thinking about rockstar!Eddie x pop!Princess! reader! & its all thanks to miss SC & Espresso! Imagine they are at one of her concerts right right & she has Eddie sit in the middle of the stage! she is about to debut this song its the last song for the night and she dances on him , for him , around him & Eddie is loosing his mind so right after the concert he wastes no time and takes her into the dressing room & the rest well you know the rest 🙂‍↔️💗

Cw: modern au, Rockstar!Eddie x Pop!princes wife reader. Age gap, Eddie is a filthy simp for his girl, soft!Dom Eddie (sir), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected), small bit of anal fingering. Talks of pregnancy.

2.3kwords

We are back baby!!! From the Wildflower universe, if you want more of the lore on these two.

“You ready, Angel?” Your husband smiles at you.

Husband, it still has a nice ring to it. You’ve been married just under a year. Giving birth to your little one put the wedding on the back burner, but you started the wedding planning once Lila Rose was 7 months old.

“Yeah, I think so,” you smile. You’re already in your hair and makeup, just waiting for your turn to get on stage.

The rowdy crowd of music festival goers grow impatient as the crew tirelessly works to remove the previous acts' set design.

“You think they’re going to like the new song?” You fiddle with the bedazzled mic in your hands.

“You kidding me? They’re going to love it!”

Eddie always encouraged your work, even if it wasn’t his thing. He loved every song because it was yours.

“All performers take their mark,” you hear the stage director in your ear.

You give Eddie one quick kiss and make your way to the stage.

The set went perfectly, but the riding anticipation of the new single was still in the back of your mind.

“Okay, Coachella! I’m going to need you to help me out with something.” You smile. “This is my last song of the night, and it’s brand new, so I’m a bit nervous.” You pace the stage.

“Now I have a special someone backstage with me, and I know he won’t come out unless we pressure him, so I’m going to need your help, okay?” you walk over to side stage and look him in the eye

You knew he would kill you, but you needed him for the extra moral support, and you kinda had a plan up your sleeve.

“Come on out, Eddie, baby,” you smile, and the crow starts to chant Eddie’s name.

Feeling embarrassed and a bit proud of you for getting what you wanted. Eddie stocks onto the stage, giving a small wave, not wanting this to be about him.

“Sit,” you speak into the mic and point to the fold-out chair in centre stage.

Eddie sits, and before he can protest anymore, he hears the first few beats of the music.

“Nice,” you sing in your breathy tone your husband can’t get enough of.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo

Eddie really loved that last lyric. He thought it was very clever of you because he knew it was about him and how he eats you out.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso.

You and your dancers moved to the beat without missing a step.

I can't relate to desperation My 'give a fucks' are on vacation And I got this one boy

You turn to your husband and wink.

And he won't stop calling

You take a few short steps around to the back of the chair.

When they act this way

You lean in from behind and run your free hand down his shoulder to his chest and back up.

I know I got 'em

You swear you hear him moan.

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer

You twirl your hair around your finger, then summon Eddie to come closer.

Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

He gets up and follows you like a puppy as you strut across the stage. My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen.

You flick up the edge of your mini skirt, and Eddie can see the lacy underwear beneath your stockings.

He needs this song to be over so he can finally have you. You've been rehearsing for this moment for months now. Stressing over it and with the baby, you and him have had hardly any time to have sex like you used to.

He's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

Eddie is back in his seat by the second bridge, and your dancing is driving him absolutely crazy. You know what you are doing. He can see it in your eyes; your mischievous gaze tells him you had this all planned out. You probably faked being nervous just to get him out here so you could seduce him.

Eddie was losing the battle of not getting hard in front of the thousands of fans watching. He couldn't help it; his bombshell of a wife was so irresistible.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Eddie listened as you thanked the crowd. He took your hand and yanked you off stage once he thought it had been enough time for your final bow, letting you soak in this moment before he whisked you away.

“Eddie!” You squeal while trying to keep up with him in your platform go-go boots.

“Gotta have, you know,” he growls in your ear so only you can hear.

“Really baby? I worked you up that much?” You swoon.

After all this time, Eddie still makes your heart flutter. You never thought soulmates existed, but when you met Eddie, all that changed- especially after having his baby. The way he was with your newborn had you wanting to jump his bones before the doctor okayed you for sex again.

The trailer was close but not close enough in Eddie’s eyes. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to form on Eddie’s brow, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the hot Californian sun or the fact that his cock was about to bust through his jeans, and he was trying not to have anyone notice.

“Get out,” Eddie commands as the trailer door swings back. Eddie opens it so hard.

Your team looks startled as you and Eddie enter the small space.

You give them an apologetic look and they place down their stuff and leave you both alone.

“You were perfect up there.” he pulls you in for a kiss. “So fucking proud of you.” He kisses down your neck.

“Mmmm, thank you, baby”

“You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, Angel?” Eddie shuts the door behind them and locks it before drawing the blinds.

“Is that right? Mr. Munson.”

“Oh, it is, Mrs. Munson.” Eddie pulls you in by the waist for a heated kiss. Still, after all this time, you both were so greedy for one another. Nothing can ever break the bond between the both of you… not again.

“God, Angel, you were a goddamn tease on that stage; you got me looking like a simp.”

You pull back, curious as to where he had heard that term.

“Simp?”

“VR tells me things.” Violet Rose, Eddie's oldest, whom you’ve adopted, is now twenty two.

“Okay, old man,” you giggle, and he walks you back to the sofa in the trailer’s back corner.

“Enough talking, more kissing.”

Your tailored dress, made just for you, was not easy to strip. Eddie was having a hell of a time trying to get out of it, only to groan when he saw your pantyhose as another barrier.

“Why do they make these things so tight.” He grumbles as you giggle at him.

“You weren’t complaining about it ten minutes ago,” you snide.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee.” He smirks.

“No, Sir,” you put your lip.

Finally, once you are out of your garments, Eddie kneels right between your legs.

“Baby, you’re going to hurt your knees,” You push his long hair back. “Why don’t we go -OH - to the couch” Not listening, his lips are already on your throbbing cunt.

The plus from your clit was relieved as Eddie’s tongue grazes it before quickly lapping and flicking at it.

“Oh fuck!” Your legs buckle, and your grip on Eddie’s hair tightens. He growls at the pain in his scalp, but he loves it all the same.

You feel his tongue go down, then to the left, then the right and finally circles your clit.

“Mmmmm, tastes so good, Angel”

“Please don’t stop!”

You feel Eddie's skilled tongue glide through your slick folds before you feel his hands nudge your legs, signalling to open them wider.

Eddie’s thick long fingers pump up into your warm wet cunt until you’re losing the battle to say upright. Your body is hunched over as Eddie sends waves of pleasure through you.

“Mmmm, that’s it, that’s my good girl. Cum for me.” The pads of his fingers graze you g spot each time. He doesn’t stop until he knows you are satisfied.

“That was a big one, baby; singing for me, go, you all worked up, didn’t it?” He stands and leads you to the couch until you’re lying down, legs spread nice and wide for him.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hum as you watch Eddie finally strip.

His body never looked better; he wants to be the healthiest to watch your baby grow up and maybe put another one in you soon.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir, more than ready.” And it was true; it’s been a few weeks since you’ve had time to have sex, and it was long overdue.

All the pent-up sexual tension between the both of you is finally being released when Eddie's hard cock slides into yours effortlessly.

“Fuck I missed my pussy, baby girl.” His head tilts back, and you take the opportunity to suck on his neck, just as you know he likes it.

“So fucking beautiful” his cock pumped in and quickly backed out.

The tip of his dick ring never failed to make you see stars. Already you’re a moaning mess for him, cock drunk, and it’s not even been a minute yet.

“There she is, there’s my good girl” Eddie palms your tit as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. He watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, blissed out by how he makes you feel.

“More” you moan.

“More what?”

“Sir, please, I need you. Baby, I love you. I love you, please, I need it.” You babble.

Eddie's heart swells. He loves you so much he would give you the moon and stars if he could. Hearing you love him, especially when the two of you are like this, really makes him kick into high gear.

He will never take for granted those three words when you say them to him; your past is too painful not to.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

“Fill me.” You pull him down into a kiss. Your tongue explores his mouth.

His hand that was planted on your waist is now travelling lower to your ass.

“This what you wanted, baby? All of your holes filled?” His finger teases your puckered hole.

“Yes!” You gasp.

“I think that can be arranged. Suck” he points his finger at your face, and you take as much of it in your mouth. You suck on it until it’s dripping with your saliva.

“Such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you and play with your ass hole.” His finger slowly glides in, and he pumps it to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“God, I love you.” Eddie can’t help but to fuck you frivolously. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the thin walls of the trailer.

“Please, please, please.” You were so close you could feel the pit building.

The pressure of his piercing brushing your g spot with every heavy thrust, each shape snap of his hips making him slide deep inside-mixed with the pressure of his finger pressed deep inside of you was bringing you to the edge of bliss.

“You going to come when I tell you to, Angel?”

“I can’t-can’t hold it!”

“Yes, you can,” he growls.

“F-fuck,” you curse him. You can’t hold it for much longer.

“Mmm, that’s right, babygirl. You’re going to listen to what I tell you.”

Your pussy naturally grips Eddie's cock so tight he almost loses it.

“Please, Sir. I want to cum. Please!”

The look in your eyes has Eddie reeling. The way you beg and submit to him, his perfect girl. His perfect wife, the perfect mother to his children.

“Cum” he growls, and you let out a cry of relief.

With your arms wrapped around the back of Eddie's neck, you pull him down into you on instinct. His body weight pressed into you, and your cunt grips his cock so deliciously Eddie is coming with you.

“Shit, baby girl, I think you nearly killed me that time,” Eddie chuckles as his legs give out and his total weight collapses on top of you.

You giggle dumbly as Eddie plants kisses all over your face.

You look up; his face is red and sweaty, but he’s never looked more beautiful.

“That was long overdue.” You sigh with relief.

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles with you.” “Let’s get you cleaned up, mama.”

“You trying to knock me up, Munson?” Deep down, you’d love to have another baby.

“What if I was?” He looks back over his shoulder, catching you checking out his juicy ass.

“Then I’d say we should keep practicing.”

“Wait for real?”

“You’re no,t getting any younger, “ you giggle.

“Oh, you little minx, you’re in for it.” He runs back towards you, lifts you off the couch, and plops you in his lap.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh as Eddie tickles your sides.

“You really want to start trying?” He asks genuinely.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Guess it’s time for round two, gotta make sure it really sticks.”

Tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @niallerlover8022 @eddiesguitarskills @all-dogs-die

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#eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!eddiemunson #rockstar!eddie Munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x popstar!reader #wildflower #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #Eddie Munson #Spotify

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msgexymunson · 1 year

Text

Shotgun

Description: you're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek?

A/n: do I have 10 WIPs? Yes. Do I have requests I'm working on? Also yes. So logically, I started a one shot from a smutty dream I had, that turned into a freaking long one. Enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll feed you to the fishes. Very smutty, a bit of angst, hella fluff! Reader is AFAB, cocky!experienced!Eddie x Virgin!band geek!fem!reader, very slight dub con in the beginning (touching over panties, explicit consent not given), female fingering receiving, dry humping, female oral receiving, p in v protected sex.

❤️Reblogs are what keep me going; they keep Tumblr going, and my little black heart beating. Reblog my work and I'll love you forever sweetheart. ❤️

12.5k words (oops)

Masterlist

"You know you guys can't handle this shit!"

Eddie laughs, nearly spilling the beer cradled in his hand.

Steve rolls his eyes, chucking his beer top into the campfire you guys had set up for the evening, the paint sparking briefly.

"Come on Munson, pass it round, quit being a bitch."

"Yeah Eddie, share the love!"

Robin giggles as she clutches her chest dramatically. Shaking your head, you shift uncomfortably on the ground. It's not that you haven't been around this sort of stuff before, people you weren't too keen on have smoked once in your company. It wasn't even a moral thing, you were just a little scared of the effect. That, and the fact you were sitting right next to Eddie Munson.

Eddie, the guy you've literally been frightened of since you saw him leaping on tables in the cafeteria. That was some time ago, and Robin had assured you he was a good guy. You trusted her judgement completely, hence why you'd even considered going camping with the three of them for the weekend. It didn't help the fact that you were just a band geek, not used to these sorts of get togethers. Hell, your closest friends played chess for fun. This was so out of your comfort zone that you felt like a deer in headlights. Only a week ago you had your first beer, at 21; the proper age. Now you were sucking back a brew in the woods at night, sitting next to the drug dealer of the area.

It could just be the beer talking, but Eddie looks good right now. Every time he shook his mane of hair out of his face it had you biting your lip. He threw his head back when he laughed and the sight of that stretched neck of his had you clenching your thighs, feelings bubbling up that you'd never felt before.

So when his hand reached out and his fingertips grazed you, a blunt pressed between his thick ringed fingers, you gasped, pulling your hand away as if it had been burned.

"Come on, take it."

Your tongue feels thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of your mouth. Words. Think of words.

"Can't you, erm, pass it the other way?"

"No, it always goes to the left sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

Glad the low light hides your blazing cheeks at the pet name, you dip your eyes downward for fear of them exposing you. You played the flute for Christ's sake. This was not your thing.

"I-I, well, I-"

"You not smoked before?"

Robin's voice cuts through the myriad of noises in your head, making you turn violently.

"I just, I never-"

"Look at me."

Those words from him sing through your nerves, making you forget any thought you had, or anticipated. As you turn, Eddie's dark eyes bore into you.

"You trust me?"

No. A thousand times no.

"Yes."

"Come here."

He shifts and gets up on his knees, joint pressed between pouting lips as he lights it again, the cherry blazing almost as hot as your blood right now. You mimic his movements, rising on shaky thighs to kneel in front of him.

"Right, I'm gonna take a pull, and blow the smoke, when I breathe out, you breathe in, 'kay?"

His words are sweet, and a little condescending, an edge of talking down that just stirs up your insides further, guts a puddle.

"Okay."

He cups his hands to his face, gesturing for you to do the same. Raising your shaking hands, you touch them delicately with his. He flips his hands so they are on the outside, cupping yours, pushing them together with a lot more force than you did.

He's close, so close. Your breath hitches in your throat, those deep eyes a couple of inches from yours. Heat radiates from his body, your skin itching almost from its blistering warmth. That could just be from the fire. Or the fire in between your legs.

He smells good. There's weed there, sure, and the beer you've all been drinking, and some aftershave you couldn't place, maybe bergamot? An undercurrent lies beneath it all, of man and skin, that makes your toes curl.

He breathes into you then, the swirling smoke trying to escape your cupped hands.

You inhale deeply, focusing on the feel of Eddie's rough hands, on his touch. You breathe in until there's nothing left and hold it. His eyes don't leave yours, sparkling in the fire light.

The exhale hurts more. Breathing out smoke, you revel in the fact you didn't cough or startle. The feeling of him letting go of your hands is far worse.

A ringing, whooping noise finally reaches your ears, between the sound of your own blood pumping. Robin and Steve are cheering like morons, but your gaze doesn't leave Eddie.

"There you go. Good girl."

Damn.

A sharp intake of breath pulls into your lungs and straight to your heat. The pure shock and desire those two words drew from you have you dropping backwards, butt slamming into the pine needle dusted ground.

"Hey you OK?" Robin's hand on your shoulder distracts you briefly and you flash a weak smile.

"Sure, just went to my head a little, I'm good."

Eddie's hand reaches over you, passing the blunt to Robin. You dare not look him in the eye, fearful that everything you felt was written all over your innocent face. Out of your periphery, you can tell he's facing you. Suddenly the fire was extremely interesting.

Robin has a couple of tokes, and tries a third when Steve waves at her.

"Quit hogging it!"

"OK, don't get your panties in a twist!" Passing it to Steve with a loud huff, he takes it and breathes deep. And promptly coughs his guts out.

Robin and Eddie cackle, and even you can spare a giggle at the irony.

"Told you Harrington. Even the little band cutie took it better than you!"

"Fuck off Munson."

Hell, he knows who I am. And he called me cute.

This is Eddie. Scary, metal head, drug dealer Eddie. Eddie who all of a sudden stirs your insides up and makes your head dizzy. Eddie who you now realise is actually goddamn gorgeous.

Eddie takes a hit and turns to you.

"You wanna try smoking it sweetheart?"

Heart hammering in your ribs, you manage to speak.

"C-can you do, that thing, again?"

His smile is dipped in sin as he scoots nearer to you, and you copy him. Suddenly this seems more intimate, sitting on the ground, twisting to face each other, inches away. He takes a hit and holds it, gesturing at you to lean closer. The way he tilts his head, you could almost believe he's going to kiss you. This time, he cups your face, blowing smoke at you. It's so close his lips brush yours ever so softly.

You're not sure if your inhale was intentional or a shocked gasp, but in the smoke goes.

Did he mean to do that?

One look into his eyes tells you yes. There's a cockiness to his grin, the devil dancing across his face.

So, did he do it because he likes you, or is he just messing with you? Only Eddie knows the answer to that.

You exhale, less than an inch from his full lips. Time stops. That is until Steve and his loud mouth break the spell.

"Come on, get a room you guys!" He practically yells, throwing a twig in your direction.

You snap your head away from Eddie and stare at Steve with wild eyes.

"I-I wasn't, we- we weren't-"

"We weren't? Well, that's a damn shame."

As you glance back at Eddie he's leaning on propped up elbows, looking so sure of himself that it's annoying, bordering on making you angry.

Cheeks flooding with warmth, your mouth forms words without checking with your brain first.

"Y-you know what you are Eddie?"

He tilts his head at you, still smirking, and gestures a hand willing you to continue.

"A cocky mother fucker."

The grin falls from his face as he looks at you in shock. Robin and Steve practically piss themselves laughing at your sudden outburst.

"Shit Eddie you better watch out!" Robin laughs out.

"Yeah, that kitty's got claws dude." Steve agrees.

Embarrassed at your own words, you risk glancing at Eddie. You were expecting him to be upset, angry even. That's not the case; he looks impressed.

"Shit, yeah, I can see that. Didn't know you had it in you sweetheart."

Smiling to yourself, you stretch your legs and wiggle your feet. You impressed him. Your turn for a smug smile.

Pretty soon the high starts to settle in; a warmth seeps through your bones and a tingle spreads from your head into your body. It feels like you're quivering whilst sitting still. Steve offers you another beer but you turn it down, well aware that being too foggy right now would be a bad idea. Especially since Eddie has been creeping closer. Now you're side by side, hips so close any time he moves he brushes against you.

The fire dies down, turning to embers. The beer coat has vanished, leaving you shivering. Steve and Robin are already under a blanket; you can see Robin's eyes are close to closing.

"You ok there sweetheart? Cold?"

"I-I'm O-OK."

"No you aren't, you're shaking."

Without a further word he's taking off his jacket and putting his arm firmly around you. Whatever space there was between you has melted away, sides now flush.

You could say the same for your face. This may well be the closest you've been to a boy. Well, a man. He drapes the jacket over the pair of you, covering your crossed legs and his lap, and rubs his hand smoothly up and down your arm to warm you. Little does he know how much he's warming your insides, each stroke sending a buzzing desire through your limbs.

Steve's chatting away; yet another story about Dustin spilling from his lips when you feel Eddie's other hand snaking underneath the jacket, coming to rest on your thigh.

Eyes wide, you flick your gaze towards him.

"What are you doing?" You whisper urgently.

"Just warming you up sweetheart."

He says it so sweetly, yet it belies the movements of his hand, moving further up your leg to run soft circles just underneath the hem of your skirt.

You can't hear a word Steve is saying, unable to concentrate on anything but Eddie's touch and the whooshing blood in your ears. No one had ever touched you like this, not once.

Robin's shrill voice breaks through the fizzing in your head; once again her and Steve are arguing over something. You might have heard Vickie being mentioned but you can't be sure.

Eddie's hand trails higher, within reach of your panties. Breath catching in your throat, you mean to admonish him but all that comes out is a breathy noise.

"Eddie…"

He rests his chin on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ear.

"You want me to stop?"

You don't answer, you can't. You're frozen, unable to move, unable to make a sound lest a moan escape your lips.

He wouldn't dare, not with Steve and Robin here, would he?

He would.

Eddie runs a finger gently down the front of your panties. The softest touch, a whisper of a thing. Then he does it again, up and down, pressing the cotton of your briefs into your private parts.

You can feel your insides fluttering, a burning settling between your legs, being stoked by every barely there touch. Suddenly, he presses down on something that has you softly whimpering and clenching at nothing. A tingle shoots down your legs to the tips of your toes.

You hear a small noise; it's Eddie chuckling in his throat. It snaps you out of your frozen state and you move to get up.

"I'm going to bed guys."

Standing abruptly, you let Eddie's jacket fall from you as he scrambles to keep it over his own lap.

You turn to your tent and hear Steve and Robin wish you goodnight, and mumble about going to bed soon too.

"Night guys!"

"Want any company sweetheart?"

There he is, sitting with that arrogant look on his face.

"Goodnight, Eddie."

You say it firmly, even though your resolve is as substantial as tissue paper. Stomping over to your tent, you turn on your camp light and sit on your double inflatable bed, hugging your knees.

Now that you're alone you realise how much that weed affected you. You feel airy, light as a feather, fingers and toes still tingling.

It must be the drugs.

You focus on the reality of the situation. You just let some guy touch you down there. Eddie Munson touched you over your panties.

So why weren't you scared? Or angry at him? It's not like he asked. The fact is that no one's done anything like that to you before, and it felt incredible. Left you aching for more. That thought was making you more frightened than anything else.

You listen to the group slowly pad their way off to bed, rustles of clothing, mumbled 'goodnights', and tent zips.

To the left of your tent was the huge six berth Steve had brought for him and Robin. It was fancy, you assume he 'borrowed' it from his parents. On the cusp of hearing there was bickering. You don't know how Robin and Steve became friends, or how they maintained it since they acted like an old married couple most of the time, but it seemed to work. After a few minutes soft snores echoed from the two of them.

No sound comes from the other side, where Eddie had pitched a little coffin tent. You wonder if he's still sitting by the dying embers of the fire. He's probably smoking.

Stop thinking about him.

You undress, only pulling an oversized t-shirt on to sleep in since your big sleeping bag is so warm. You'd bought a double one with your birthday money last year because you hated feeling restricted. It was a luxury but with all the camping you did it just made sense. Snuggling into its spacious depths, you attempt to quiet the raging hormones coursing through your veins.

God, why is he so annoying and smug? It burned you up, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on.

You slide your hand between your legs, pressing hard to try and quench the fire. He did something, you're sure of it. This wasn't natural for you, movements unsure and bordering on clumsy. When you run your finger through your naked folds you whimper, and see how wet you are. Gasping, you explore further, and find that spot, a hidden nub that sends a bolt of lightning to your core.

"Oh fuck," you breathe out in a moan, starting to rub up and down.

"You alright in there sweetheart?"

Oh shit, he's right outside the tent. Was he there the whole time?

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"I'm cold, can I come in?"

No.

"Y-yeah."

He unzips the tent and enters, crouching to accommodate his height. Closing the tent up, he takes in his surroundings, letting out a low whistle.

"Pretty sweet set up you've got here, your folks rich or something?"

"No, I just do a lot of camping with the troop."

"Huh?" He looks confused, falling to his knees to look you in the eyes.

"The girl scouts, I volunteer as a leader."

The laughter that comes from him is loud and rich.

"Fuck, you got that little innocent act down don't you?"

It's your turn to look confused.

"What on earth are you talking about Eddie?"

He scoffs at you, clearly not buying it.

"The cute little band geek thing, helping out with girl scouts. Shit, the whole 'can you do that thing again?' " He mimics your words from earlier and you flush crimson.

"Eddie, I honestly don't know what you're going on about. I never smoked before, I hadn't even had a beer before my 21st last week. I've never even- no one's done what you did, outside."

Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor.

"You're fucking with me."

You shake your head, lips pressed tight.

"Well, now I feel like an asshole." He huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

"Well maybe you should, you never asked."

"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were one of those freaky band kids. You kept looking at me like you were gonna eat me alive, I thought I was in for a rough night." He laughs, shooting a gaze at you.

"Well you thought wrong." You turn your head, arms crossed firmly over your chest.

"I'll go if you want. Want me to leave?"

Yes.

"No."

A smile spreads slowly across his face, and he inches closer to you on his hands and knees, palms splayed on the foot of your air bed.

"So, you want me to stay?"

"No."

"So… should I sleep in the doorway?"

A fair question, considering your answer. You laugh, looking back at him. His smile is softer, much less mocking. It's sweet almost, sanding down your rough edges.

"Yeah, you can be my bodyguard. Protect me from bears and mountain lions and stuff."

He chuckles and climbs over; you lay back on instinct, further away. Leaning right over you, his face is an inch from yours, hair tickling your cheek.

"You know, I could protect this beautiful body of yours better if I was in the sleeping bag with you."

"You don't give up, do you?" You whisper into his skin, sounding braver than you felt.

"It was the sweet and innocent thing, did me in."

He plants a soft kiss to your cheek, brushing your skin, and another, to the corner of your mouth that makes you shiver.

"Tell me to stop."

"Eddie, kiss me."

His mouth is on your then, hot and heavy, tongue begging at your bottom lip. You give him an inch and he takes a mile, tongue sliding against yours with practised movements. Not expecting the full force of his kiss, you suddenly realise you're moaning into his mouth, hands coming to wind into his loose locks.

He breaks away, chuckling at the way you chase his lips.

"You know, you don't kiss like a good girl."

Merely whining in response, you try to catch your breath.

"So, can I get in the sleeping bag? I'm freezing out there."

"Fine, just, no funny business." You point your finger at him, gasping when he licks it long and slow.

"Nothing you don't want me to do." He winks, and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?"

He ignores you, pulling his socks off and unbuttoning his jeans.

"I'm getting undressed. Why, expect me to sleep in my jeans?"

You merely screw your nose up in response. Stripped down to his boxers, he clambers his lithe body onto the sleeping bag with you, all elbows and knees. Sighing, you move over to accommodate him but he wraps his arms around you.

"Eddie, what-"

"I'm cold sweetheart, just, warm me up a little?"

Your heart is hammering in your ribcage with the realisation that you're entirely out of control of this situation. You allow him to hold you, and hesitantly rest your arm over him. Your head is snuggled into his neck, feeling more comfortable than you had any right to be.

"Eddie, your legs are freezing."

"I know! I wasn't lying, my sleeping bag's shitty."

He pushes his thigh between yours, and you remember a split second too late that you're not wearing any bottoms. Suddenly, his bare thigh is pressed against your naked heat. You're praying to any Gods that might be listening that he doesn't notice, attempting to stay as still as possible.

He's warming up slowly, but you're stiff as a post, trying not to focus on his thigh and the slight pressure it's putting on your most delicate parts.

"So, you gonna tell me what you were doing sweetheart?"

"What?" You whisper into the soft skin of his neck.

"Well, I came out of my tent to see if you were still awake, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning."

"N-no, I wasn't!"

"Quit lying, I can feel your cunt on my leg."

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

"Eddie, you can't just say that!"

You hit him on the chest. He just laughs, dragging your little fist to his mouth to kiss it.

"I can when you're soaking my leg."

Opening your mouth to respond, all words escape you. Especially when he grinds his thigh against your folds. Instead of words, a whimper breaks from your lips.

"Yeah? That good sweetheart?"

The smugness is back, but you can't find it in you to care, not when he rocks his hips and the force of his leg sets loose a roll of pleasure. He's hard, it's pressing into your hip.

A lean arm curls around you, his thick thumb finding its way to your chin to lift it upwards. You stare into his darkened eyes as they dart to your lips and back up.

All resolve is dissolved like ash in the rain as you feel the intensity of his stare and the warmth of him between your thighs. You crash your lips to his desperately, hips chasing friction. When his heavy tongue slips into your mouth you respond in kind, needy and vigorous.

He takes his thigh away and you huff at the loss, but it's not for long, not when that hand of his is stroking down your front, lightly massaging your hardened nipples and chasing down to your stomach. He cups your mound, one finger pushing down on your swollen nub.

"Eddie."

It's a whimper, a plea into his open mouth. Responding by biting your bottom lip softly, he dips his finger lower, circling your entrance gently. His finger slips inside then and you clench around it immediately, moaning at the foreign feeling. It's odd, yes, but it's so good that you cry out.

"Gotta be quiet sweetheart, don't want anyone hearing me fuck you with my fingers."

His crude words are peppering your insides with fire, the evidence of your arousal seeping out of you. Humming in response, you bite your lip, clinging desperately to his side.

He slowly pumps his finger in and out, watching your face. You're slick jawed, eyebrows knitted tight, hips rolling with each thrust of his hand.

"Fuck you're so tight, can barely fit my finger in."

"Eddie, no one's ever-"

"Shhh, I fuckin' know sweetheart. Gonna make you feel really good. Just enjoy it."

He curls his finger inside you, incessantly stroking at something that's making your legs tense up and your insides flutter around him, the heel of his hand flat and hard against that spot again.

"Oh my God!" You whisper urgently, fingernails digging into his sides.

"I know baby, feels good yeah?"

"Uh huh" you manage to breathe out as your eyes squeeze shut.

The pressure collating in your tummy is building and building as he speeds up, finger reaching deep inside. It releases, and flows from you, wave after wave crashing down and washing away everything but Eddie.

You muffle your cries of pleasure in the skin of Eddie's chest, resisting the urge to clamp your teeth into his flesh.

As you come down, he releases his digit with a wet sucking sound that probably would have made you embarrassed five minutes ago, but now it's just inconsequential.

"Still with me?" He asks softly as he hugs you close.

"Barely" You mumble; he chuckles at your reply.

He rolls you on top of him, moving your legs so you're straddling him. His hard on is pressing firmly into your privates, your slick dampening the front of his boxers immediately.

"Eddie, I'm not- I can't have sex with-"

"Sweetheart, you trust me?"

Yes.

"No."

There's that look again, that edge of mocking that isn't making you annoyed anymore, it's making you want to pull his underwear down and slip him inside of you.

"I'm not gonna fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Relax sweetheart."

His hands are on your ass, moving you against him to grind on his rock hard bulge. Your eyes widen, the friction so much better than his thigh.

He lets out a stifled moan, and damn if it isn't the best noise you've heard in your life.

His hands trail under your shirt as you take over moving against him, feeling the shape of him under you. Tugging at the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

"Can I- can I take this off?"

All feelings of modesty have fled and you whip your shirt over your head and fling it across the tent.

"Fuck, look at you."

Leaning forward he takes your nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and around.

"Eddie, oh Holy fuck!"

Your movements become faster and sloppy, so he grabs you by the hips to slow you down.

"You know what I think?" He says, in between wet open mouthed kisses to your breasts, "I think you are a freak. You just didn't know it yet." He chuckles darkly, and sucks hard at one of your nipples.

Your moan is loud and bordering on pornographic as you rut yourself against him harshly, all pretence of keeping quiet forgotten as your stomach tightens again in thick knots of pleasure.

"Oh Eddie, I'm- I'm gonna cum oh fuckfuckfuck!"

It all undoes at once as you release and clench around nothing, pussy throbbing with ecstasy. The bones in your body seem to disintegrate, muscles a distant memory as you flop against him.

Eddie's not done.

"Come on sweetheart, just a little longer."

He encourages your hips to move again as you lay on his chest, skin glowing with perspiration. You can only grunt in response and start grinding against him again, the feeling so intense it has you clenching your teeth with pleasure pain.

"That's it, fuck, I'm so close. There's my good girl, just, oh shit, little more."

His praise bubbles through you and you speed up to meet his rutting hips, your slick sticking to the tops of your thighs.

"Feel so good sweetheart, oh shit!"

Lifting your head, you do it just in time to watch Eddie's eyes screw shut, mouth panting open with pleasure as he holds your hips in a death grip. His cheeks and neck are flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing. You press your lips to it softly, leaving feather dusted kisses over his neck and jaw as he comes down from his glowing high.

"Holy shit." He laughs into you, kissing the top of your head over your hair.

"Indeed" your reply is breathless as you melt into his front, attempting to ignore the stickiness.

"As much as I'm enjoying you naked on top of me, I need to, er-" He gestures vaguely at himself with one hand. For a minute you think he's just going to go, but instead he wriggles out of the sleeping bag and whips his boxers down.

You sit back on your heels, mouth agape as he casually cleans his spend with his underwear, wiping at the matted pubic hair. He's big; you could feel him under you but now you're faced with it you fear your eyes may bug out of your head.

Glancing down, you can see some of his cum escaped its fabric confinement; a few drops glisten on your lower abdomen. Curiosity gets the better of you as you gather it on your fingers to feel the consistency, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It's stickier than you thought. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the excess off. It's salty, and strange, but not unpleasant exactly.

When your eyes meet again Eddie looks awestruck, staring at you with the queerest expression on his face.

Embarrassed at being caught, you hide your hand behind your back as if scolded.

"Sorry, was that wrong?"

"No, fuck no," he chuckles, looking away, "just have to stop looking at me like that sweetheart."

"Why?"

"Hell, 'cause you're making me hard again."

"Oh."

You shyly put your head down and settle back down in the sleeping bag's warmth. To your amazement Eddie gets in with you.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought you said I could stay? Or you had enough of me?"

"N-no, I just… well, you're naked."

He laughs hard at that.

"So are you."

Nothing about this seems to phase him, but your mind is swirling around and around. You'd just had your first orgasms ever, and now you're going to be sleeping naked with a man. With Eddie Munson.

He's so much warmer now, skin hot to the touch. Hesitantly, you rest your hand on his chest. He pulls you close, picking up your little camp light with the other hand, fiddling with it briefly before offering it to you.

"Can you switch this thing off?"

You reach and press the button, plunging you both into darkness.

"Night sweetheart."

"Night Eddie."

********************

Early morning light wakes you, filtering through the tent fabric, coating everything in a warm glow.

Eddie is still here, laying on his back, snoring softly with you cuddled to his chest. You'd hate to admit it, but you were glad. Glad he didn't run off in the night. Glad that last night had actually happened and wasn't just your over active imagination playing some cruel joke.

Laying there, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you take a second to really think.

What was actually happening? A part of you is frightened; scared that maybe Eddie sees your virginity as a challenge. Maybe that's why he stayed? You were staying another night after all. Or maybe this is a little holiday romance, something to keep him occupied whilst he's away. You'd had one before at band camp; nothing serious, just kisses and cuddles and radio silence on your return.

What were Robin and Steve going to say? You contemplated waking him up right now to sneak him back to his own tent, but that thought went straight out the window when you caught the sound of their tent being unzipped.

A soft bash to your tent startles you and makes Eddie snort himself awake.

"Hey guys I'm making coffee! Come and join us!"

Robin sings out and walks away to fuss over the fire it sounds like.

Oh Holy shit balls. Hey guys?? She knew Eddie was here. And if she knew, Steve knew.

Eddie smirks down at you as you stare at him with wild panic in your eyes.

"Guess our little secret is out sweetheart."

Before you can say a word he's unzipping the sleeping bag and fumbling about for his jeans, slipping them clumsily onto his legs.

"Eddie!" You whisper urgently. He just chuckles.

"What, want me to cut a hole in the back of the tent? Tunnel out?"

He's got a point.

"Eddie, please just don't-"

"Hey, I ain't one to kiss and tell, relax."

Before you can say another word he's perching a cigarette in between his plump lips and making his way out of the tent.

Fuck.

You pull on your clothes hastily, a skirt and t-shirt, and slide on your sneakers, attempting to untangle some of the messy bed head that had been created during the night.

It's now or never.

You exit the tent, attempting to look as casual about it as you can.

"Morning guys."

Steve smiles at you.

"Howdy cowgirl."

"Hi?"

You return his greeting, utterly confused, but by the sound of Robin shushing him violently and Eddie coughing on his cigarette you can only assume he meant something by that which went over your head. Robin breaks the tension, talking a mile a minute.

"Hey sleepy head! You want a coffee? I just made it over the fire. Crazy! I know it took forever. It'll wake you up. Not that you need waking up you're up and about and it's early! It's not like you had a long night. Well you might have how would I know anyway here's your coffee!!"

Seems you might have gotten a little loud, why else would Robin be breaking the sound barrier? You don't say a thing, just smile gratefully and take your coffee, entirely avoiding Eddie's eyes, and try to wish the blood away from your darkening cheeks.

"So, we thought we might have a swim in the lake in a couple hours when it's warmer, you in?"

Steve asks and you nod, aware your voice right now is not to be trusted.

So, after a little breakfast and small talk about the cold last night, which you put a particular emphasis on to try and explain away your little situation, you all go and change into your swimwear.

In your tent you lay out your usual one piece, the plain black one you always wear with the troop, and the other set. The bikini you bravely bought but never wore, deeming it far too skimpy for camp. But this wasn't girl scouts.

God damn he's already seen me naked, come on, be brave.

Skimpy number it is. You wear it underneath your clothes and grab a towel and a book, readying yourself to join the others.

Eddie and Steve walk ahead, talking obnoxiously loud; something you're quite glad of. At least they aren't whispering about you.

Robin walks side by side with you, practically vibrating.

"Just, whatever you wanna say, say it before you explode."

The voice that exits her mouth is so high pitched you're surprised dogs didn't start barking.

"You had sex with Eddie Munson!"

"I did not!"

"Totally did, we saw you!"

You stop in your tracks, mouth hanging open.

"What the fuck Robin!"

"Sorry, we didn't actually like, see you see you, we saw your shadows, 'cause of the light in your tent."

"We- I- I mean, we didn't, like, have sex, we just- did something else." You settle at lamely.

"Are you going to? He really likes you."

You scoff at that, continuing your walk.

"He's just trying to get in my pants, take my virginity. I doubt he'll even talk to me after."

Robin's hand shoots out to grab your arm.

"Oh, you don't know, do you?"

Feeling utterly confused, you turn to face her.

"What are you going on about?"

"Eddie likes you, he had a crush on you in high school. He was the one that suggested inviting you and nearly killed me when I actually did."

Your world turns sideways in your mind; everything is upside down, thoughts smashed, memories cut to ribbons in their wake.

"Huh? How- what?"

"He was telling Steve like a week ago, I was listening in and opened my mouth as per usual. I tried to tell you, remember?"

You rack your brains trying to come up with answers when a light bulb switches in your head.

"Hang on, you said Eddie wanted me to go before, didn't you? I honestly thought you were just joking with me, I didn't think he knew who I was!"

You reach the tree line and see the two boys a little further on, just on the tiny beach leading to the lake, stripping off their clothes.

"But he was so- so sure of himself!"

"Oh he's always like that. Pretty sure it's an act, he's actually super sweet when you get to know him."

You look up and stare at Eddie in his swim shorts. He'd been naked last night, but with the low light and distraction of seeing his privates for the first time you hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him all over.

He was lean and tall, but there was a broadness to his shoulders and a sinew to his muscles that made him stand out. Tattoos littered his frame, more than you thought he had but the detail was lost at this distance. You were walking closer, still staring at him, when he captures you. Smiling that smug grin of his he holds his arms out as if on display.

"See something you like sweetheart?"

On the edge of shying away, you look down; but then you remember Robin's words. He's the one with the crush on you. Feeling a little braver, bolstered by that thought, you walk closer, a couple of feet away from him, and stop.

"You look really good Eddie."

Pulling your t-shirt over your head, you smile at Eddie's reaction. Clearly not expecting such a bold move from you, his cheeks and neck are flushed pink. For once he seems speechless. You slip your skirt off and away, kicking it to one side.

This leaves you in your tiny baby blue triangle bikini, with delicate daisies embroidered on the hem. For once, your cleavage is fully displayed, and the ties for the bottoms ride high on your hips. You slip two fingers under each tied side and pull them up ever so slightly.

Eddie's eyes dart down and back up again, and you swear you see him swallow thickly in his throat.

"Well, you swimming or not handsome?"

Without a further glance you kick your shoes off and wade into the chilly water.

OK, keep calm, just look at him now.

Risking a quick peek back, you see him standing gormlessly on the sand, mouth hanging open. He looks so dorky, so unlike the Eddie you've seen so far that you giggle aloud.

Steve calls out to him, already in the clear water. He's stumbling into the lake after you then as if a fire was lit underneath him. Robin makes her way in too, and pretty sure you're laughing and splashing each other in earnest, the boys taking turns in dunking each other underwater.

Steve keeps screaming about his hair, which just makes you all laugh that little bit louder. Soon he's moping about it and swims off surprisingly fast. Robin says she wants to dry out and wanders back to the beach to read a little, leaving you and Eddie alone.

He swims straight to you, bodies a couple of inches apart. Suddenly the water doesn't feel so cold, warmed by the heat he seems to pull from you just by being close. That ache is there again, wanting to be filled by Eddie. You try and shake the thought away.

"Seems a little skimpy for a scout leader," he says, gesturing at your two piece.

"Well, I don't wear this one with the troop," you reply, attempting to look blasé about it.

"So, wore this just for me, sweetheart?"

You shrug, but know your eyes betray you, honesty etched into the look you give him.

"You did, didn't you? That's cute," he responds to his own question, reaching a hand up to hold you by the waist. All of a sudden his breath is in your ear, his other hand reaching up to your chest.

"You look hot by the way, I like the little flowers," as he says it he runs a finger over the hem of your bikini bra making you shudder.

"Eddie," you whisper, meaning to scold him but it just comes out a little too breathy for that.

He continues to whisper in your ear, each word sending a butterfly loose in your swirling stomach. "Wondering if I can stay in that tent of yours again. To stay warm?"

You laugh, turning to face him. "That's not all you want and you know it."

"Yeah?" He comes closer, lips so close to brushing yours, holding your chin between thumb and forefinger. You clench your thighs together as your eyes flutter shut.

"Seems you want more as well," he laughs, pulling back from you. The frown that appears on your face tells him all he needs to know.

As he moves away, his hand drops down, knuckles dragging slowly over your nipple, already pebbled by the water.

"Maybe later princess."

He turns to get out of the water. Furious with how forward he just was you shout after him.

"Eddie, you are such-"

"A cocky mother fucker?" He shouts back, stealing your thunder.

You clench your fists, nearly losing it treading water, and decide to swim away to cool off.

You're finding Robin's words hard to believe. He still seems so confident; maybe his little chat with Steve was a rouse to get you here so he could tease you. If he has liked you all this time, maybe it's just a sexual thing. Seduce the band geek.

When the ache between your thighs is lessened by the burning muscles in your arms and legs you swim back to shore and dry off, laying on your towel to read.

It's like the universe has it in for you today. A few more pages into your fantasy book and suddenly there's a sex scene. Usually, you'd just skim over the 'fruity bits' as your mom called them but now? Now it was as if Eddie had altered your brain chemistry and you found yourself absorbing every word in detail, thighs clenched together almost to the point of pain.

"What you reading?"

You jump visibly and look up to see Eddie couching over you, sodden locks leaving pitter patter drips on your legs.

"Eddie, you're dripping."

He smiles mischievously.

"Am I making you wet, sweetheart?"

You roll your eyes and replace your bookmarker, putting your book down to one side.

"Yes, Eddie, I'm soaking wet for you."

Triumph flashes over your features as you take in his wide eyes; so shocked at your reply he's nearly choking on air.

"You are strange Eddie. You can give it but you can't take it, can you?"

His eyebrows raise and he attempts to cover his flustered appearance.

"I'm just surprised, I thought you were a good girl."

Ignoring your heart thumping hard in your chest at those words, you shrug.

"And here I was thinking it was because you've had a crush on me since high school."

Eddie opens his mouth, and promptly closes it. When he speaks again it's quieter, almost like he's embarrassed.

"Who- how did-"

"Robin."

"Of course."

He stares at you then, all bravado gone. A moment passes where you both try and work out what this means, what the other is thinking.

Eddie coughs and stands up, breaking the spell.

"We're heading back to have lunch, if you wanna come."

He walks off then, not a further glance at you. Wondering if you upset him somehow, you gather your things and head back to camp.

********************

Later that evening, you're huddled around a campfire again having a couple of beers; or, in the case of Steve, several beers. Eddie had been civil, nice even, but there was no edge to him right now. You're not sure if you miss it or not, realising that you had actually grown fond of the push and pull between you, and that grin of his.

He'd disappeared at one point, and returned a little later with his acoustic guitar; beginning playing a little aimlessly, just background music to your tiny circle. He played beautifully; it really was mesmerising to watch his fingers dance over the strings.

"Play me a song, Eddie." You say, before you realise you were saying it aloud.

"Yeah?" He flashes a small smile and you encourage him by placing your hand on his knee.

"OK, just for you then sweetheart."

He breaks into a rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, by the Clash. You're almost certain it's a jab at you because of last night and your failure to make your mind up. You don't mind; listening to the rest of the lyrics you realise you're hoping he means more than just a little in-joke. If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time.

When he finishes you all clap, Robin as quickly as a bird's wings flutters, and Steve just a little too loudly, probably due to too much alcohol.

"Thank you Eddie, that was brilliant." You smile softly at him.

"No problem sweets." He moves to put the guitar away but you wave your arm at him.

"Can I play something?"

A sharp intake of breath rings out from Steve and Robin but you pay it no mind. Eddie looks at you like he's sizing you up. Seems he comes to the conclusion that you aren't just going to pull some rockstar move and smash it on the ground, he passes it to you carefully.

You take it reverently in your hands and get comfortable with it, tuning the G string slightly as it was a little off when you heard it.

An idea springs to mind and you grin deviously to Robin over the fire, a grin which is reciprocated. She knows what you're about to do. The Band Camp thing.

You start to play the very beginning of a song extremely loudly, singly wildly off key.

"Kumbaya, my Lord-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Eddie shouts, lurching a hand toward you to clamp over the fret.

"I'm kidding!" You giggle, prying his fingers away. Robin's laughing and Steve looks like he's about to burst, swaying in his seat.

"OK, no funny business."

"Not unless you ask for it." You wink, and start to play what you had intended all along.

"One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all…"

You lose yourself in the song, the melody. When you were younger you had just assumed it was nothing but a song about Alice in Wonderland. You knew better now, but it was fun to play and it suited your voice.

As you came to the conclusion your eyes fluttered shut and you sang out the last couple of lines like no one was even there.

"Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head

Feed your head!"

Whooping and clapping finally reaches your ears as you open your eyes. Robin is going insane; Steve is shouting but it sounds slurred. Eddie just looks stunned as you pass his precious guitar back to him.

"You're incredible sweetheart." He looks genuinely impressed, staring at you with such intensity it makes you squirm.

"It was OK, my strumming's a little sloppy."

"But your voice! Jesus Christ, I've got goosebumps. You should sing, like, all the time."

You laugh, swatting him with your hand.

"I think that might get a little annoying."

"I'd love to listen to it all the time."

The sweet moment is broken by Robin gagging loudly.

"Munson that was so cheesy I'm gonna hurl."

He just shrugs, unbothered, and puts his guitar away. You didn't think it was too cheesy. In fact, you're breathless, thoughtless. The ache was settling back in, so deep in your bones there was no willing it away. It was clear; you needed him. Biblically.

As that realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, a soft thud breaks through to you. Steve has fallen backwards, already snoring.

"Well, looks like he needs to go to bed. Give me a hand guys."

Eddie stands up and lifts Steve bodily round his waist. Robin and you hover nearby, but he doesn't need your help after all.

Steve's giggling childishly, slurring words together.

"Don' wanna go bed, wan' sing too!"

"Sing in the morning, big guy."

You help Robin tuck him into his sleeping bag, as Steve mumbles Kumbaya under his breath.

Robin huffs. "I'll take it from here," and quieter, just to you, she whispers, "I'm putting earplugs in, go have fun."

"Robin, I-"

"Shhh you'll wake the baby. Just go, go!"

You leave the tent and see Eddie sitting by the fire, rolling a joint.

"Erm, Robin's going to bed too."

"Oh?" He looks at you, quirking one eyebrow. "Are you?"

"I'm not tired."

That shit-eating grin of his is back, tugging at the corners of his mouth slowly.

You sit down, right next to him, knees touching. He finishes rolling, licking it closed with a pointed tongue you can't help but stare at.

As he starts smoking, you finally let loose what's been on your mind all day.

"Why did you act funny with me? After I said you have a crush?"

He huffs a little laugh, blowing smoke through his nose.

"I thought that was obvious. I was embarrassed."

"Really? I didn't know Eddie Munson could get embarrassed."

He takes another drag and looks away.

"Yeah, well it happens. I don't like people knowing too much about me. Rather come across as mean and scary and-"

"-cocky?"

"Ha, yeah."

It's quiet again, but not a loaded quiet. You feel comfortable, almost enjoying the silence; just the slight rustle of pine needles in the breeze, and an owl hooting far away.

"You want some of this?"

Eddie's touch pulls you back to the moment, rough fingertips grazing you. The touch burns again, but differently this time. This time you melt under it.

"Can you, do that thing?" You ask in a small voice.

He smiles wickedly, straightening his legs out.

"Come here" He says as he pats his lap. You straddle him awkwardly, not sure if this is what he meant, but a firm hand grabs you by the ass and shifts you closer to him so your chests are flush.

"Like this?" You ask quietly, breathing the question.

"Just like that baby."

He takes a long toke and beckons you forward with one finger. When you're in range, nose lightly brushing his, he brings your chin toward him with one firm hand and presses his lips to your mouth.

Stiffening with surprise, you quickly soften, disarmed by his lips. You part yours and he breathes the smoke into you, allowing you to inhale deeply. Breaking away, you exhale the smoke downwards and look into his deep eyes.

"Do it again."

He bites his lip and smiles, flashing his teeth. He repeats the gesture; taking a pull, smashing his lips to yours and breathing into you. He doesn't let you pull away to breathe out; instead he presses his tongue into your mouth. Smoke burns your nose as you submit to him, the kiss becoming filthy and desperate as he grips onto the flesh of your ass.

Finally he lets up, if only to breathe. You're both panting, electricity in the air passing between and through you.

"I like it like that." You smile, hand resting on his chest.

"You keep surprising me sweetheart." He responds, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips.

A fuzziness rushes through every nerve, all of your body crying out, singing for him.

"You know, I don't mind cocky Eddie."

"Yeah? I thought I annoyed you."

"A little. But it kinda turns me on." You respond, rolling your hips into him.

"Oh fuck sweetheart," he roughly grips you, forcing you to do it again, "you drive me fuckin' crazy."

He's on your neck, kissing and licking at you almost tenderly.

"Eddie, please," you whisper, mind abandoning any clarity as he kisses you.

"Please? What do you need, sweetheart?"

How can you answer? What do you need?

"Eddie, I-I need you, please," you whisper into his ear, rocking against his hardening bulge.

He bites down on your neck, eliciting a gasp to spill from your lips.

"Tent." Is all he manages to say, and you stumble upwards on wobbly legs, to lead him to it.

Fumbling for the zip, you just about get inside it when you feel his hands on you gently pushing you forward. A small touch is all it takes and you're falling onto the air bed, knees bending as you collapse face forward.

He's on your back before you can think, firm arms caging you in from behind.

"You need me? Really?"

You nod, squirming underneath him, a small hand curling around his forearm.

"Dreamed about you saying that, fuck." He whispers, lips pressing to your shoulder, "turn around."

You can't find it in you to not comply. Wobbling the mattress, you twist to face him, engulfed in the intensity of his stare, illuminated by the fading light emanating from the fire.

"Say it again." It's soft, but ironclad in the centre.

"I need you Eddie."

"Fuck" He huffs, moving down your torso, pulling your t-shirt up so it kisses the edge of your breasts. He looks up at you with pleading eyes; a look that turns your insides to mush.

"Can you turn the light on? I need to see you."

He sounds so desperate, so in need that you waste no time in grabbing your camp light and switching it on, bathing you both in cool white light.

As he's pulling your top up, you assist and pull it over your head, flinging it to a corner.

"You are really beautiful." He says, drinking you in with his eyes, as a calloused hand strokes between the valley of your breasts. You slide under his confident touches, getting more anxious by the minute.

"Can I taste you?"

You nod, and he unbuttons your skirt, pulling your panties down with a roughness that makes you flinch. You're entirely exposed.

"I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time."

You wriggle underneath him, and reply. "Didn't you get me like this last night?"

"This," he says, gesturing to your revealed flesh, "this is different."

You don't quite get it and want him to explain further, but his lips are on your nipples and all that comes out of you is a heady moan. A firm knee pushes your thighs apart and you bend to his will, allowing him to kiss down, and down, leaving hot pressured mouth trails to your stomach.

When his lips meet the tops of your thighs you cry out his name.

He understands, slipping his tongue between your folds and licking at your clit with pointed precision.

"Oh fuck!"

A chuckle emanates from his throat as he doubles his efforts, flicking and suckling at you in earnest. Thick fingers tease your entrance and one slides into your glistening opening, pumping slowly.

It shocks through your body, setting loose tendrils of pleasure so profound it's almost a religious experience. He prods another finger at you, sliding it next to the first and it burns, making you hiss.

Eddie mumbles platitudes into your pussy, telling you how good a job you're doing, how proud he is, how you're a good girl. His good girl.

The tension is unbelievable, clenching every muscle as your breath comes in short pants.

"That's it sweetheart, sing for me."

The fingers curl, stroking something incessantly inside you that rips a sultry groan from deep within your chest cavity, and without further warning your orgasm washes through. It collects and expands, a force of nature that flies out and collides like stars in the universe.

Your back falls to the air mattress, and that's the only signal you have that it ever left. You feel soaked in your own juices, thighs uncomfortably wet.

Eddie hovers over your face. You're not quite sure when he got there.

"That OK sweetheart?"

You don't reply, you can't. Your response can only be carnal, feeding into the biting, gnawing need that still refuses to lessen its grip on your core. Bringing shaking hands upward, you wind them into his hair and pull his face forcefully towards yours, tongue slipping in to taste your slick in his mouth, groaning at the tangy sweet flavour.

He collapses against you, full weight of his lithe body pressed into yours, but it's not enough. Pulling away and leaving less than an inch of space you voice your frustration.

"Eddie, please, I- I want you. I want you inside me, please."

Eddie shakes his head for a second, then deep brown eyes seek yours for any doubt, and come up empty.

"Are you sure sweetheart?"

The nod you reciprocate with is painfully fast, hurting the muscles of your neck. He looks uncertain, but discards his clothes, kneeling in front of you in his boxer shorts.

"I need you to be sure. I can't give it back."

You let your legs fall further apart, giving him the view of you open and ready for him.

"Please."

Underwear has never been discarded quicker. He has his cock in his hand, sliding on a condom from his crumpled jeans at record speed. A second later and he's towering over you, nose brushing yours and dick lined up to your sopping entrance.

His tip breaches you, so much thicker than his fingers, and you wince. You can tell he's trying to be careful, pushing into you slowly, watching for any signs you want to stop.

You're so full, and he just keeps going. A moment later and you let out a little startled cry as a sharp pain shoots from deep inside.

"You OK sweetheart?" He stops his movements, staring at your face with a worried expression.

"I'm fine, just, go all the way" you manage through gritted teeth.

He slips the last of it deep, deep inside as you yelp at the suddenness. Then, he's still, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers with his over your head, his other arm holding him perfectly motionless above you.

"That's it, you're OK, so fuckin' tight, fuck," he says to you, kissing your cheek. It burns, the feel of him, but a fullness is beginning to overtake that ache.

"You know, I thought you were afraid of me in high school." He half laughs, kissing the tip of your nose. It's such a sweet gesture from the so-called frightening man that you giggle a little too.

"I was," you admit, staring into his deep eyes.

"Then, we come here and you look like you're gonna eat me alive. Then, you're all innocent, and now… fuck, I can't keep up."

You appreciate what he's doing, talking to you, distracting you from the pain. It helps; it's settled into a dull throb and your need from him is outranking it.

"Eddie, you can move."

With a peck to your lips he pulls out a little and thrusts back in, setting a slow and steady pace.

This is so much better than his hands, or his tongue. On every thrust he's massaging at something that makes you moan, again and again.

"You're doing real good sweetheart, my good fuckin' girl."

All of a sudden you feel it, all of it. His lean weight comforting over you, the squeeze of his fingers in yours, the throb of his member inside you, his words. It's all too much. Your eyes gloss over and a tear works its way down your temple.

"Oh shit, you want me to-" He starts as he slows down a little.

"Don't you fucking dare, please, please, I-I need-"

He grins at you; that self satisfied look that turns your legs to jelly.

"What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

"Harder Eddie, oh God!"

He snaps his hips into you with much more force; once, twice, three times and you scream his name, pussy clenching him hard, every muscle tense. As everything unravels you go limp, whimpering at the pulse that you can feel pounding in your core.

When your eyes finally decide to open, he's leaving kisses as light as a butterfly's wings on your cheek.

"Woah," is all you can say, between breathless giggles. Tears are falling but you don't care enough to wipe them away.

Eddie unlatches his hand from yours and does it himself.

"That was so hot. You need to do that again," he whispers, beginning to grind into you slowly.

"I nearly died Eddie, it might finish me off!"

He laughs back, but doesn't quit; hips still driving into you leisurely.

"What's life without a little risk?"

You stare up at him, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue that you're too nervous to ask.

"What is it?" He asks, brow furrowed, as if you were about to ask him to stop.

"Can I… wait, don't worry."

He does stop then, to put his hand to your face and stroke you with his thumb.

"Hey hey hey, come on, what baby?"

You whisper it quietly, voice small and second guessing.

"Can I try, erm, being on top?"

You're surprised that Eddie's face didn't split in half from the sheer wideness of his grin.

"Holy shit, yes, please."

He winds his arms underneath your frame and flips you so fast your vision blurs, until he's underneath you. You sit up, his cock still buried within, and you gasp at the new angle.

"Eddie, Jesus Christ!"

Palms splayed on his chest, you control your breathing a little. This angle is devastating, pressing harshly against that place inside that has you throbbing around him.

Eddie chuckles darkly as his hands slide over the flesh of your thighs, rubbing back and forth, until they work their way to your hips and pull you up ever so slightly, only to drop you back down again.

"Just like that sweetheart, 'Kay?"

He tilts his head to one side, that mocking tone fuelling the embers of your desire. Rising up on shaky knees you pull off him and slide back down, trying to find some semblance of rhythm. Your clit grazes his pubic hair on one pass and you nearly lose it completely, the feeling sending a bolt of pure pleasure up your spine.

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah? That good?"

You hum and nod, words escaping you, now rolling your hips on each bounce to get that sensation over and over.

Eddie's talking now, watching how much you writhe and whine at his words.

"That's it sweetheart. Wanting to- oh fuck- ride me, on your first time. Oh yes, fuck, just like that- dirty, my dirty fuckin' girl."

"Eddie, oh God, can you, fuck, please-"

"What is it sweetheart? Anything, you can have anything."

His words embolden you, and before you can hesitate your hands are gripping one of his and leading it to your throat. You're not sure why, but you know deep in your core that you need it.

Eddie looks shocked by your moments but quickly recovers, fingers slotting around your throat, squeezing lightly at the sides.

Speeding up, feeling the pressure of his hand on your windpipe, you throw your body into each movement.

"Fuck Eddie, harder!"

He squeezes and you let go of everything, breath leaving you. All composure, all thought. It's just you and Eddie, and his hand, and his cock. Screaming aloud, you fold almost double, collapsing into him with a shocked, delicate whimper.

His fingers relinquish their firm grip, coming to rest on the back of your head in a comforting, tender hold.

"I was right, you are a freak."

Laughing aloud, you have just enough bones left in your neck to lift it ever so slightly. He looks surprised, sure, and really aroused, judging by his hooded gaze.

"Are you not… done?" You ask, as you feel his impossibly hard length still throbbing inside you.

"What can I say, I've got stamina."

That smug face is back, a flash of canines and confidence. You'd roll your eyes if it wasn't so sexy.

No time for a witty comeback though, as he holds you close to him and thrusts upwards with abandon. Colours swirl in your vision as you try to stay attached to reality, focusing on the feel of his skin, the pounding of his rhythm, and the light in his eyes.

"Fuck I'm close, I'm so fuckin' close. You're, oh shit, so- oh God, can't believe you're letting me do this."

Slack jawed and practically dribbling, you let him use you to chase his own release, trying to weakly meet his thrusts. A pulse deep inside is brought to your attention, and it's not yours. Looking at his face, you watch it awash with ecstasy as he holds you tightly and throbs his climax out.

His muscles melt, holding you still but so loosely that the lack of pressure surprises you, as if you were only aware of how tight his grip had been at this very moment.

The only sounds are the nightlife of insects around the tent, and panting, heaving breaths. Sliding off of him in an organic gesture, you curl up into his arms, finally feeling sated and at ease.

Lips are pressed into the top of your head, kissing you over your hair. No words are spoken; none need to be. For a shining moment, this is all you need. To be held, and cared for.

Minutes go by, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before you drift off, Eddie breaks the spell cast over both of you.

"Was that OK princess?"

"That was incredible Eddie."

He kisses the top of your head again, then seems to remember himself.

"Fuck sweetheart, just, stay right there."

Clambering to his feet he pulls the condom off, tying it in a knot and discarding it into a corner to be thought of later. He's back then, spreading your legs.

'Eddie, you can't just-"

"I'm just looking after you sweetheart. You got some tissues or something?"

Furrowing your brows, you point to your wash bag near the foot of the sleeping bag. He paws through it wordlessly, and brings out some tissues and wet wipes.

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry."

"What's wrong?" You ask, panic riding your words.

"I've made you bleed." Eddie looks crushed, so upset at your prior pain, anguish etched into his face.

"It's OK Eddie, it's normal."

"You should have said. I'm so sorry."

You laugh a little, touched by his concern.

"I didn't know! It's alright, it doesn't hurt now."

Placated slightly by your answer, he cleans you both up as well as he can, before slipping into the sleeping bag with you.

A thousand questions perch on the edge of your tongue, but it's so warm, so cosy and right, that your body denies all words for a moment.

When you feel capable of speech you look up at him.

"Stamina, huh?"

He flushes, looking down at your smiling face.

"I may have tactically jerked off beforehand."

"When??" You giggle, fingers flirting over his exposed chest.

"When I went to get my guitar."

"Eddie, how did you know that-"

"OK, OK!" He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles before hiding behind it, "I didn't know, not for sure. You just looked so good in that little two piece, I couldn't hold it in."

"Perv," you respond, but your eyes are soft.

"Yep."

Giggling, you slip into a calm, contented sleep in his arms.

********************

You wake up a little later than intended, no doubt exhausted from last night. The tent feels empty. Upon realising that Eddie's missing a dread settles in your stomach. Bile rises as you sling some clothes on. Maybe he's had his way with you and that's it.

Exiting the tent, you see he's just by the fire, trying to get it going again, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips.

"Oh would you just- come on!" He says as he angrily flicks his lighter, trying to get the wood to catch.

You smile, relief washing over you, and walk over to help.

"I'm begging, come on- oh, sweetheart," he looks a little sheepish as he speaks to you, mumbling around his cigarette. "I was gonna make you coffee and bring it to you but the damn fire won't start."

You giggle, and rearrange the little pile, adding a few twists of paper to the base, and hold your hand out to him. He looks at you blankly for a second, then comes to his senses, placing the lighter in your palm.

With one stroke the papers alight, and starting to catch the rest of the twigs. The couple of logs won't take long to catch.

"Witchcraft."

"Nope, just girl scouts."

"You can go back in the tent if you want, I'll make you a drink."

"Eddie?"

"Huh?" He turns to you, pot of water in his hand.

"Good morning." You smile shyly at him. He grins, placing the pot on the ground and stubbing out his cigarette. Strong arms slot their way around your waist and you fling your arms around his neck, grinning stupidly at each other.

"Good morning. Good night?" It's framed as a question, and you know what he's getting at.

"Great night."

Smiling wider, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Puckering your lips to ask for a proper kiss, you hear a very loud cough.

"Good morning love birds." Robin wiggles her eyebrows at you both. You move to break away from Eddie, but he steals a kiss anyway, and pulls you close to his side, arm firmly around you.

"Is Steve alive?" He asks, looking at Robin.

"Well, he got up in the night to throw up, just glad he didn't do it in the tent. He's dead to the world right now. He's been singing in his sleep you know. Nearly suffocated him with a pillow."

You both laugh at that, and then hear a loud groan from the tent.

Eddie glances at you with mischief and shouts out towards Steve's tent.

"Harrington! Wanna sing for us, big guy?"

"Urgh." Is the only reply. Robin rolls her eyes and busies herself with the fire.

After a while, the coffees are ready; you all attempt to rouse Steve but he's gone back to sleep, groaning whenever you call out to him.

Then, it's just the sad business of taking down your tent. There's a special kind of melancholy reserved for such an occasion; pretty soon there's no sign at all that it was ever there. Afraid that your memories, your feelings, about last night would fade too, you walk over to Eddie who is perched on a stump fitting the last of his things in a bag.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asks, still fumbling with his bag.

Do you still like me? Do you want to see me after this? Was this all a dream?

"Can I get a ride back with you? Steve and Robin are gonna be a while."

You gesture over to where Steve had finally emerged, whining and packing his stuff, tent still upright.

"Sure, anything you need." He flashes a tight lipped smile and reaches to grasp your hand briefly.

The ride back to town with him is chatty, even if it's only surface level stuff. Your rendition of White Rabbit had him fumbling around the glove compartment and pulling out a few older classic rock tapes that you happily listened to; music was a big part of your life, at least you both had that in common. His eyes light up whenever you talk about a band or song that he likes too, gesturing so emphatically with his hand you have to remind him to look at the road.

Pretty soon you're pulling up to a crossroads, except Eddie pulls over instead.

"What's wrong?"

He huffs, smiling at you sadly.

"If I keep driving forward I've got to say goodbye to you, take you home," he admits. Your heart flutters at the admission.

"Where do you live, Eddie?" He looks confused, but points to the left turning.

"Eddie, turn left."

"Really?"

"Really. I was supposed to stay at Robin's tonight anyway."

His grin is downright manic as he pulls back on the road, making short work of the drive to his trailer.

He bundles you out of the van and opens the trailer door, both of your bags heaved over one of his shoulders.

The sight of an older gentleman startles you as he potters around the kitchen area.

"Hey! This is Wayne, my Uncle. Wayne, this is my girlfriend."

Your eyes widen as he gives your name to his uncle and you shake hands with him, the roughest hand you think you've ever touched, but the softest grip.

"Pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm heading out today, so I'll see you two later I'm guessing."

He waves and smiles fondly at the pair of you, and leaves.

"Sorry, thought he would've left already." He explains, pulling you both to the back of the trailer and into what you assume is his room.

Allowing yourself to be led, still feeling shell shocked, you perch on the edge of his bed as he dumps the bags on the floor.

Eddie's talking, saying how he wishes he tidied before he left, how the trailer's not much but it's home, and his uncle…

"Eddie, wait."

He stops mid flow to look at you.

"Girlfriend?"

"Well yeah? I mean, if you want to. I didn't ask, did I?" He flushes pink, hand reaching up to nibble at his thumb.

"I mean, you don't know me, really." You shrink, almost folding in on yourself.

"Hey," he sits down next to you, stroking your jaw with his finger, "I know enough. And I let you touch my guitar. We're practically married now."

Lips press softly to yours, a delicate touch that has all tension flying from your body in a rush.

"Eddie…" You whisper, giving him a butterfly kiss with the tip of your nose.

"Hmm?"

"You smell really bad."

He laughs and grabs you around the waist, pulling you down sharply to lay on the bed.

"So do you."

"A point well made." A response, but you don't move, snuggling deeper into his neck.

"So, I've got an idea. Let's have showers, get into some comfy stuff, and cuddle. Probably got a movie or two we can watch?"

The normalcy of the situation is surprising, but most welcome.

Smiling wickedly, you nip at his neck and whisper in his ear.

"One condition: we shower together."

He groans loudly, hands stroking at any skin he can reach.

"Fuuuck, sweetheart, I've created a monster."

You laugh, and hold him tightly. Eddie Munson isn't so scary, after all.

Taglist (just some people I thought might like this, hope you don't mind!)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonfuxks

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bandgie · 4 months

Note

what would stray kids' "we shouldn’t be doing this" sex situation be??

MDNI 18+ | step/incest themes (individual warnings), age gap, oral (f!), fem!reader, I prolly missed some tbh

chan! (tw: step)

something about him screams step-dad. you're not home too much cuz you're already older by the time your mom remarries, but whenever you do swing by, your step dad is more than eager to cook, to clean, to show that he's a good husband...for your mom ofc. but the air thickens and you both start growing more bold. you come more often, making sure to bend lower enough for chan to catch a sight of your panties. he never makes a move though, not until the inevitable divorce papers are served. then he's a little more receptive to your advances, but ofc, he has some morals left

"Wait! I know your mom and I are getting a divorce, but that doesn't mean-" Chan shuts up real quick at the feel of your hand lowering, cupping his bugle and kissing his neck. "Shh, weren't you trying so hard to be my daddy before? You can be that now."

minho! (tw: age gap)

dad's best friend. older, hotter, flirty. he honestly has little to no shame when it comes to teasing you. if anything, it's you telling him that you can't do this, that it's wrong, but gosh it just feels so good. your friends tell you about the sexual experience older men have and it only tempts you more to give into Minho's advances. the furthest you've gone is light touching, his gentle kisses to your bare shoulder when you get out of the pool. but honestly, he's just so charming, it's only a matter of time before you're under him

If you don't get his cock soon, you think you'll cum just from his fingers. Minho's got two digits fucking into you, his thumb swirling your clit while he lavishes your nipple with his tongue. You whine, throwing your head back and arching upwards. "Minho! Minho, my dad-" but a harsh bite on your swollen bud makes you yelp. Minho briefly picks up his head, "You're dad's downstairs. You should be quiet before he hears us."

changbin!

he's your ex. you come across him at one the parties your university throws and you swore to yourself that you'd never get involved with frat boys again, but he just looks so good. big arms crossing his chest, black jeans on his thick thighs (and thick cock) with a red solo cup in his hand. you keep reminding yourself that he's not worth it. it would be so stereotypical to hook up in a someone's house you don't know, but once he sees you it's pretty much settled.

"Come on, you know you miss it," his words are like butter, and truthfully you do miss it. You miss how his thick fingers wrapped around your neck, how his fat cock stretched your pussy. But still, you're prideful, "As if. I shouldn't even doing this shit with you." Rather than his little smirk disappearing, it widens. "Who are you tryna convince? Me or you?"

hyunjin!

you're his art teacher. he's super talented, super dedicated to his craft and you constantly praise him for it. as true as that is, you also love seeing his smile and dimples. you have yet to admit that you find your student attractive, but you can at least acknowledge that he makes your job a little bit better. it's when he comes in for your office hours that you finally have to come to terms with your true emotions. you think you can keep professional, but hyunjin's set on letting you know how he feels.

"Hyunjin...you know we can't," but your words fall on deaf ears. Hyunjin pushes a loose strand from your face, cupping your cheek in the process. "Why not? Is there something wrong with me?" He sounds so desperate, so sincere. You have to swallow your desires but you can't push his hand away. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with you." He leans past you, brushing his plump lips over the shell of your ear. "Then let me touch you one time. Let me show you how much you mean to me just once."

han! (tw:incest)

icky brother for sure. older brother to be specific. you always thought it was normal for siblings to be as close as you are, to kiss when either of you are stressed, to go on outings that usually end in more kissing on the ride back home. but, of course, you realize that his affection is twisted, and you cut off contact with him and the rest of your family. even then...it's really hard to move on, especially when he shows up to your master's graduation.

"I said I never want to see you again." You try to sound strong, but your voice shakes. He's crying too, as if he isn't the reason you guys can't have a normal relationship. More tears fall, more apologies are spoken, but you can't say no when he begs for those little kisses that always make you guys feel better. You can't say no when you finally give your body to your brother like a good little sister.

felix!

brother's best-friends trope. you grew up besides him and you've always had a little thing for him, but he hardly noticed. you guys age, and you've totally given up on your little crush. but when felix is invited to an overnight cabin with your family, it's hard to ignore that reignited flame in your stomach. ignoring him is probably your best plan, but felix is just too friendly to really understand that you don't want to talk to him. you decide you should show him exactly why you should stay away

Felix's eyes are wide, filled with uncertainty, fear, but he can't help the excitement that bubbles in his stomach when you rip your shirt off. "I- I don't think this is a good idea! Your family's upstairs and your brother will kill me." You can practically see his heart jumping from his chest. To calm him, you crawl on the bed to where he is and place a gentle, but firm kiss to his lips. He whines, shaking as he cups your face in his small hands. "And if you don't fuck me," you pull away to look into his eyes. "I'll kill you."

seungmin!

he's your boss, and you're his secretary. since you're pretty much forced to be with him at all times, you know how he handles his anger when the company isn't doing as well as he wants. It usually involves drinking and working overtime, but this particular night has him restless. since your a great worker, you stay overtime with him, helping on what you can and making sure his coffee is always filled. but when the lack of sleep starts to get to his head, he starts acting a little...weird.

Mr. Kim hasn't dismissed you yet. If anything, he beckons you closer with a finger. You obey, following his every instruction until you're bent over his desk, skirt lifted up with your panties to the side as his warm tongue licks up your pussy. "The cameras," you moan out. "We'll get caught. Mr. Kim, you'll get fired." But he doesn't care. He's so stressed, too tired that he needs something to keep him awake. You can't help but feel pity, so you lay pliant on the desk while he laps your cunt.

jeongin!

he's an idol helping out the trainees. he's super professional, a great dancer, and an amazing teacher. really supportive and gives helpful feedback. it's super dumb, but totally expected for a trainee to fall for their instructor, or in this case, an idol. you know better of course, his image matters a lot. you don't want to risk anything for him. but it's hard to not feel anything when he stays extra hours with you to get a routine down. both of you are tired, both of you are exhausted. neither of you are thinking clearly when jeongin grabs your hips as a means to help your posture, but it leads to something totally different

The practice room is filled with wet slapping and messy kisses. Jeongin eyes are hooded, a darkness covering him as he looks down at you. Your breasts bounce at the force of his thrusts and you grab them for support. "Jeongin. Innie, the sun's gonna come up. Your leader-" But he covers your mouth with his large palm. He's chasing his high, coxing an intense orgasm that he can't bother to care about your worries. "Just shut up and let me finish."

my fav's seungmins tbh (and maybe hannie :p)

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mamayan · 1 year

Note

You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

#Dark Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae #monster smut #Greed x reader #Fae smut #faecore #yancore #yandere x reader #fae king #yandere smut #Dark Fae #kinktober fun #request filled #afab reader #Fae x reader smut #changeling #changeling reader

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javierpena-inatacvest · 8 months

Text

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy.

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate.

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for.

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period.

Your cycle had been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag.

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military.

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it.

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response.

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood.

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration.

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.”

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man.

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work.

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband.

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending.

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie.

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!”

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath.

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-”

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.”

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door.

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway.

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it.

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood.

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear.

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants.

Your period had come.

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie.

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ”

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply.

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.”

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first.

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.”

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply.

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘”

“Oh shut up, meanie.”

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍”

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way.

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch.

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband.

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?”

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest.

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace.

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you.

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-”

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse.

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem.

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.”

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.”

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him.

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you.

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you.

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza.

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-”

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?”

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?”

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest.

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy.

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth.

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you.

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core.

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you.

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices.

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period.

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man.

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths.

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.”

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds.

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt.

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot.

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool.

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over.

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue.

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name.

“Frankie, holy fuck.”

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could.

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.”

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt.

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace.

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over.

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him.

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity.

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him.

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate.

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word.

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.”

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there.

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did.

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.”

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in.

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.”

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high.

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss.

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss.

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight.

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.”

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

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satoruhour · 1 year

Note

Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

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