#Sex change surgeon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

poisonf0rest · 4 months ago

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𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 2

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, oral, cunnilingus, road head, car sex woohoo, pwp

word count: 6.6K

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

This is the last time you have sex on a weekday.

When Zayne left your apartment last night, you tried to write while the aftereffects of everything he did to you- everything he watched you do- still lingered. But you were beyond distracted, unable to even sit still without being assaulted with vivid flashbacks, a mix of mortification and lust coursing anew.

You shut your laptop and scream into your pillow.

Only after feeling sufficiently lightheaded do you shut off the lights and try to sleep, but the damned thing avoids you like the plague, and you stare at the ceiling for an untimed eternity. Everything feels wrong. Your blanket feels too thick, your skin too tight, the entire room too warm, too empty.

You don’t get more than three hours of sleep that night.

But it should be common knowledge that hospitals rest for no one, and you jolt out of bed to the sound of your pager beeping, rushing in while the sky is still dark.

The ambulance pulls in at the same time you do and the paramedics are already yelling out the status to everyone at the bay: forty-three-year-old male, chest trauma, performing CPR. It’s a race, a rush and rhythm you know well. You’re scrubbed down and entering the operating room alongside two other surgeons. The patient is intubated and they give the countdown before cutting him open.

It took two and a half hours to perform the surgery and stop all the internal bleeding, and by the end of it, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally.

But this was the most in control you’ve felt for a while. A sharp sort of stress that forced your hands into a trained precision and your mind into a rigorous sort of calm. It was almost as though you became a different person entirely, one you both admire and hate.

She’s calm and collected, only speaking when needed in commands to the operating room. She demands respect. She is who your mother is proud of, who you were supposed to be.

You’ve only just washed your hands and finished debriefing when you feel that half of you begin to slip away once more. And as the stress leaves, your mind wanders back to last night. To Zayne.

Thoughts that haunt you for the rest of the morning.

Finally, the clock hits eight and the ER is busy with the morning crowd. You do what you can until the other residents clock in, leaving to finally eat breakfast and get some sort of caffeine before your headache gets any worse.

Luckily, the vending machine has your favorite melonpan and green tea, and you get two of each. Sitting down, open your laptop and begin eating in the hallway outside the surgery bay, your manuscript staring right back at you, mocking.

Your eyes burn holes through the cursor blinking at the top of the page, and you try to will yourself to just type something, anything, but it doesn't work, and you end up slamming the computer shut with a sigh.

Unintentionally, your male lead has begun to resemble Zayne more and more- not physically, at least- but in his little mannerisms, his overly formal speech habit, and even his uncharacteristic love of sweets. Your lips quirk up at the memory.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Zayne comes from the other end of the hallway, looking like he also might be coming out from a surgery. He’s only meters away when his eyes lock onto yours.

You straighten against the chair, a shiver of heat racing down your spine as his mere presence sends an onslaught of flashbacks that are nothing short of sinful.

Stop. What happened last night is part of a professional, mutually beneficial deal. Zayne is still your mentor— your boss too, in some contexts— and you refuse to have these thoughts about him in your place of work.

Smiling, your fingers still against the keyboard as you hope the whole thing doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

Zayne looks the opposite of amused. If anything, he appears pissed.

His gaze narrows on you, and for a second, you think you spot something else behind the cold indifference. But the look passes as quickly as it appeared, his face back to its usual stony expression, and you must have imagined it.

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne,” you say.

Zayne stalls, shoulders tensing for a moment before he nods and continues walking. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he passes, doesn’t say another word, the awkward tension so thick it almost makes you choke on your melonpan.

Your eyes trail after him until he rounds the corner.

Well, that went splendidly.

You try to type again, but it turns out your brain is a useless lump of flesh because no matter how many times you read over the paragraph, the words fail to register. You huff out an exasperated breath, slam the laptop shut, and drag yourself to your office to prepare for rounds.

Even so, you go through your morning routine with a strained smile, a newfound weight pulling against your chest, a sharp sort of pain between guilt and longing you’ve never felt before.

—----

Zayne is going to lose his fucking mind.

He is an adult, he reminds himself. A well-mannered, respectful, professional adult.

So why can’t he stop imagining your face underneath him as you come undone? Why can’t he get the memory of every sound you made, the overly sweet way you said his name, the very cadence of your voice out of his head?

And the way you said please.

Zayne grinds his teeth hard enough that something clicks in the back of his jawbone, his usual flat expression twisted with a scowl that sends other doctors and residents scrambling out from his path. His clipboard groans under the pressure from his grip, and Zayne can’t make it to his private office fast enough before he slams the door shut and drags his palm down his face.

He sees you every time he closes his eyes.

“Fuck.”

Zayne swore to himself that helping you would change nothing in the workplace, and yet clearly, only one of you was mature enough to hold that part of your deal up.

This must be a new level of depravity Zayne never assumed he would stoop to.

But it had been torture to only watch you last night. A beautiful, painful torture he would subject himself to again and again and again just for the chance to have you writhing against him like that once more.

The way your doe eyes had practically begged for him to fuck you all on their own when he forced you to look up nearly made him come in his trousers. And thank god you were too far gone to notice how desperate he was, grinding insistently against your bedsheets while you came around his fingers. And now…

And now Zayne was fucking hard again in his office of all places.

It was a wonder he got anything done anymore.

Zayne hasn't had a lover in years and it's beginning to wear him thin. And yet, the idea of finding someone else to satiate his needs doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. Not when his mind is so consumed with the thought of you, and the sounds you made, the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would roll to the back of your head every time he curled his fingers into that spot inside of you.

God, he should have just asked you out on a date first.

Restraint had come easy to him. Zayne was practically raised on it, his very life dependent on his ability to restrain his Evol, the lives of others dependent on his patience and restraint in the operating room.

But no, when it came to you, everything failed him.

Maybe he had been a little harsh this morning. Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn't want to think about it.

Running a hand through his hair, Zayne imagines bumping into you again. Would you still be happy to see him, smiling as you did this morning, or would you ignore him just as he did you?

“About this morning,” Zayne stops, restarts. “I’m sorry for avoiding conversation earlier today.” A groan, “No, I can’t begin like that. This morning I wasn’t myself, there was a patient who required percutaneous coronary intervention and the stress must have gotten to me.”

He tries again, and again, gesturing to his empty office before dragging a palm down his face. “I must be going insane.”

Zayne has never felt more foolish in his life.

He doesn't even have the excuse of a lack of experience in this field. In his previous relationships, he was always the one to initiate dates and intimacy, and it was the same with any relation that had lasted longer than one night.

But you are different.

The thought of taking his time with you makes him weak. To finally have your legs wrapped around his waist, to finally hear his name on your lips, to finally have your body pressed flush against his and hear you beg for him once more.

He wants to do so much more for you, wants you to use him as you need, to take and take everything he has to give. Wants to surrender to your every whim and every outrageous idea you’ve ever had floating around in that unpredictable head of yours. Wants to taste you, and see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg.

Wants to know how your cunt feels and what face you would make when he finally, finally fucks you.

God, Zayne wants to ruin you.

He wants so badly it drives him mad.

Zayne can't avoid you, and he shouldn’t. There are still matters to discuss for your novel and a deal to hold up. He is a man of his word.

A date.

That could work. Just a way to get closer, as colleagues, as partners.

You would have to spend time together outside the hospital, where the air is clear of any distractions and expectations and Zayne can get his head on straight. Even moreso, it should be something nice, something that will hopefully take your mind off your impending deadline.

Right, that would be perfect. An opportunity to simply be providing you with the proper inspiration and guidance, as a good mentor should, and keep his end of the deal should you ask for another inspiration session.

Turning back in his chair, Zayne begins filtering through his email and paper files, until something slips from the growing stack.

The annual charity gala.

As a resident yourself, you were likely already invited, so proposing the two of you go together shouldn’t be too ostentatious, right?

Zayne stares down at the gilded gold lettering.

No. It was definitely out of line in so many ways. But the only other option was to continue down this path, to continue fooling himself that he only agreed to be your fuck buddy out of courtesy and care, and not these wretched thoughts that plauge his every waking moment.

It would mean he’d be completely at your mercy for seeing you next, whenever you needed him. Or his body, at least.

Zayne doesn’t have the willpower to last that long. Besides, this is more efficient.

So, Zayne opens the letter, pulls the invitation card from its envelope, and begins drafting an email to you in hopes of preserving a little bit of his dignity.

He didn’t even have to wait an hour to get your response: you said yes.

______

Zayne opens the car door for you, ever the gentleman.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you take extra care not to snag the hem of your cocktail dress on your heels or the door. By the time you buckle your seat belt, and the car roars to life, dashboard glowing a soft orange.

"Ready?" Zayne asks, adjusting his cuff as he begins to reverse out of the parking spot.

It’s the first time Zayne has formally invited you to be his plus one, and the thought of being seen beside him like this- at such a formal gala, no less- is all at once thrilling and nauseating.

Zayne steals another glance at you, and where your hands lay clenched in your lap. "It’s just a hospital event, you may very well see other residents there."

A laugh. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Even without the extra stress from attending this gala, your stomach has been in knots all day long-- your manuscript is due in less than a week. You’ve written a lot, and Zayne’s hands-on “experience” helped you get ample inspiration for most of the main scenes. Yet you can feel the deadline creeping up, the sense of impending doom looming over you.

Of course Zayne notices. "We'll try and have fun, it's just a couple of hours. I heard they also have billiard tables, if you’re interested?” A tap on the steering wheel, then he adds, a little quieter, “Your dress is nice. The color suits you.”

You smile, but your eyes don’t leave the road. Instead, you seem to zone out on the row of streetlights, shadows cast over your face as they pass by, one by one.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, doctor.”

Zayne continues. “Tell me more about your novel’s progress, then. If you need any more assistance…” he trails off, and you feel a prickling heat creep up the back of your neck. Finally, you look away from the window, and Zayne relaxes against his seat.

So you begin to tell him about the newest trope your editor wants you to include, a classic in enemies-to-lovers books: forced proximity. “The concept is great. Who doesn’t love it when the two characters who swear they hate each other accidentally get stuck together and turned on at the worst possible time?”

You ramble, propping your arm against the car armrest as you turn to face Zayne. "So,” you say, ”I'm trying to think of ways they could find themselves in such a situation. Maybe they're cornered by guards or captured by a mutual enemy, or we combine the classic injury trope so they can’t move.”

"That is one option," he says, eyes still on the road. A turn, and Zayne shifts gears as the car speeds ahead.

“A classic my mind says no, but my body says yes dilemma.” You debate telling Zayne about the premise around aphrodisiacs and sex pollen, but you think that really might be pushing him too far. You are in a car, after all, and an accident is the last thing you want.

Instead, you ask, "Have you read any enemy-to-lover books?"

He shrugs. "I've had some experience."

"I'm sure you have."

Zayne shoots you a sharp look. Your smile grows, slow and wicked.

"And I've done a bit of research," he clarifies, voice flat just to prove a point.

"Right, research."

"Well, to best help you, I thought…” Zayne’s brows furrow as he merges lanes, letting the blinking of the indicator fill the silence before clearing his throat. “I thought reading a book or two in the same field would help me understand your own book better. I must say yours is far better written than some of these popular novels.”

The mental image of Zayne sneaking a read at some filthy romantasy book has you giggling.

"And you’re sure that's the reason?”

"Of course," he says, though his face is slightly pink.

You feign suspicion, poking at Zayne’s arm. "What if this whole time, you’ve been hunting me down as a means to read my unreleased books? Then the only reason you agreed to this arrangement is because you're secretly a stalker fan."

"Interesting theory,” a smirk, one you see pull at the corner of Zayne’s lips. “But not the only reason."

"Oh? What’s the other then?"

Zayne smiles, the dim light from the dashboard sharpening his features. Another turn, you spare a glance at the GPS only to see you’re nearly at the gala venue. But still, no answer came, not as Zayne seemed to refocus on the road, shifting gears as the light turns green.

You groan, “You’re not even listening anymore.”

“I am.” Zayne shoots you a look from the corner of his eye, one hand leaving the wheel to rest against your thigh. “There is, however, a difference between listening and answering.”

But now it’s your turn to stop listening. You can’t, not when his thumb does that thing again, tracing mindless circles against your inner thigh while he looks back at the road.

It does something, to have his hand there, warm and heavy. Something that has your thighs pressing together, heat creeping down your neck.

Zayne catches the motion. Of course, he does. And he squeezes, just a little.

And then a brilliantly wretched idea hits you.

"Do you have any suggestions?" You ask, trying to keep your tone innocent, even as you part your thighs just a little further. "I mean, you did research and all. Surely, you remember something useful about the plots. Or the sex scenes."

"The sex scenes," Zayne echoes, his voice tight.

"Well, yes. They're kind of important. They're why people buy the books." You lick your lips. "For example, surely one of those books you read for research had interesting forbidden tropes?"

"It's likely." His jaw ticks. "You'll have to be more specific.”

"Well..." you draw the word out, shifting in your seat. “You know where else would be a really inappropriate place for a character to get a boner?” Reaching over, you glide your hand up Zayne’s thigh, mirroring his placement on your own. “In a car, doctor.”

Zayne thanked every god for their mercy the moment he got to a red light, car jolting to a halt as he eyed you with a frown.

“Behave," he scolds. "This is beyond reckless."

The genuine frustration edged into Zayne’s voice makes you hesitate, and you move to sit up, retreating your hand from his thigh when it brushes past something unmistakably hard.

You feel Zayne tense beneath you, the car jerking forward before speeding along as though nothing had happened. Oh, but your lips cracked into a vicious grin as you stretched your way fully over the center console, wriggling your ass in the air on the far side of the seat.

Really, you should have realized that the stern, self-deprived Zayne gets off on scolding you as much as you did.

You watch him closely, but despite his harsh words, he never moves to actually stop you. So you continue, scraping your nails up his trousers as your mouth follows, hot breath leaving damp spots against the expensive cotton as Zayne’s thigh jumps under your touch.

God, the click of his belt coming undone elicited a nearly Pavlovian response at this point, the sound of metal on metal making something in your core flutter. You waste no time going for his zipper, palming at the bulge straining into your touch as it pushes out from between the metal all on its own.

Zayne laments all the trust you placed in him as a driver. Despite being only minutes from the venue, he swore he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough for it to snap. A car behind him honks and Zayne swears under his breath, thoughts clouding over as your hands finish sliding his zipper down, gently palming at his cock as he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot breath over clothed skin.

And the moan Zayne lets out when you lick the head of his cock is enough to have you gushing. But you never take him any deeper, blocked by your position over the passenger seat, settling with unsatisfactory kitten licks up and down his length, leaving sloppy marks without ever speeding up.

Zayne shudders, huffing in frustration and restraint as he unconsciously tries to buck himself into your mouth, failing due to the awkward side angle you placed yourself in. Instead, you splay your hands over his lower belly, untucking his shirt as your fingers rub against his v-line, as you begin to suck just barely over this throbbing head.

“You shouldn’t– fuck." His jaw flexes, and his fingers are white-knuckled, the veins in his forearms standing out with the strain.

The shock of hearing Zayne curse was almost a physical blow. The word was spoken more like a prayer than a profanity, something desperate and violent caught in his throat, a warning and plea all at once. It made something hot coil deep in your gut.

It made you want to push him further.

You must have made some type of sound muffled over his cock because Zayne hisses, his hand coming down from the steering wheel to grab at your hair, fingers threading into your scalp and pulling, just enough to hurt.

"You are absolutely insufferable." Zayne's voice breaks into a moan. "Stop teasing me."

You pull off of him with a wet pop, sitting up and wiping the drool from your chin. "But I’m hardly doing anything. Don’t tell me you’re getting so hard just from a few kisses."

"Reckless. Lack of foresight. Do I need to teach you how to behave like an adult?" Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"No," you lean forward and kiss the head, lips wrapping around it as you swirl your tongue. Zayne's foot presses down on the gas and the car jerks forward. "But maybe I could use some help learning my lesson."

You swallow him down, and his hips jump. Humming around him, Zayne’s cock twitches, and before you can stabilize yourself he’s pushing your head down further. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, not with the way his hips stutter upwards, thickly corded muscles of his thighs tensing as you nearly choke.

Another broken moan fills the car alongside the wet sounds of your mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips as his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag, and Zayne’s grip on your head finally loosens, the wheels spinning over loose gravel as you pull off just to breathe.

You can't see him, not with the angle, but the feeling of his eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, and the heavy throb of his cock against your tongue was enough to know just how close he is.

You're so distracted, tears blurring your vision, that you don't notice the car has stopped, not until Zayne's other hand is reaching over to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth off his cock and forcing your head up to look at him.

The moment your eyes meet, he frowns, thumb rubbing across your bottom lip, cleaning your smeared lipstick and spit from your ministrations. "Look at you," he hums. "What a mess."

The nearby spots in the lot are empty, but you’ve arrived early, and you can see cars parking close enough to send your heart racing.

You glance at the clock- seven forty-six- and you know despite how Zayne’s windows are tinted, it would take someone looking over from a meter or so away to see the two of you, to see the way Zayne's hands are fisted in your hair, to see you arched over the middle console, to see how hard he was and hear the slick, wet noises you made around his cock.

You nearly yelp as Zayne pushes you off his lap, messily tucking himself back into his trousers before climbing out the door. It shuts with a bang and you’re about to scramble up when you hear the passenger door open and are roughly hauled out of the car and slung over Zayne’s shoulder.

You don’t even have time to scream. The next thing you know, you're being tossed on your back into the back seat, barely having time to right yourself before Zayne follows you, door slamming shut. He's pulling at your dress, bunching the fabric up and around your waist before dragging you under him.

“Did I not satisfy you thoroughly enough last time?” Zayne scolds between breaths, teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites down. “Or perhaps what I should have realized is that you’re simply a filthy little girl who gets off on being punished?”

The sound you let out is obscene, a whiny moan that has Zayne groaning as he pulls away, his mouth slick and shiny with spit. He grinds his cock against your stomach, his hand coming around your throat and forcing you to face him.

It’s almost effortless, the way he holds you against him, folding your thighs to your chest as he bends to avoid hitting the roof of his car. His cock is still rock hard and pressed against the back of your thighs, only the thin slip of your dress shielding you from his greedy eyes.

"Zayne- fuck, we're gonna be late." You choke out, a gasp following as his hips grind into yours.

“Answer the question.”

Another bite to the plush above your breast and you cry, fearing more for the possibility that he leaves a permanent mark more than anything else. As if hearing that, Zayne bites again. Harder.

“Yes!” You thrash, trying to kick him off you but there’s little room in the back seats and the leather sticks to your sweat-slick back as Zayne works to pin your hips. “Yes, I’m sorry. I only— I wanted to see how long you’d last.”

A laugh, short and cruel. “How long I’d last?”

Zayne grabs your wrists and holds them over your head. He leans close, so his lips brush yours when he speaks, and the words are low and soft. Dangerous.

"Well, then. Allow me to return the favor.” Zayne lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your calf as your foot hits the window, one heel falling off with a thud. “If memory serves me right, isn’t this a trope too?”

It’s almost effortless, the way he lifts your hips all the way up, your legs kicking helplessly over his shoulders as they’re forced up against the roof of the car. Shifting his weight around in the tight space, Zayne coaxes your calves to cross behind his neck, giving a small grunt as his face is pressed into your inner thighs, one arm straining against the leather of the car seats.

“Where they’re stuck in a small space, right?” Zayne’s eyes never leave yours. “Maybe a cave,” his tongue trails up the bare skin of your quivering thigh, “Under a desk,” licking his way up, “in a car?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, not when the heat of his mouth presses directly onto your clothed clit, licking over the lace of your panties as you arch off the leather seats.

You’re already a dripping mess, writhing against the leather of the seats and the hard muscle of Zayne's shoulders, the sensation of his hot tongue pushing against your clit through the lace a painful sort of pleasure. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Zayne pulls off and stares at the string of his spit and your arousal, warm and sticky, against the soaked patch of cotton between your legs connecting to his lips. Involuntarily, he bucks into the cold emptiness underneath you.

Fuck, he’s so hard he might come from this alone.

You hardly notice, not with the way every muscle and nerve quivers and begs for release, jaw falling slack as Zayne’s lips are quick to tease you again, this time pressing his tongue flat against the crotch of your panties and laving across the entire seam. The gorgeous arch of his nose presses up into your clit, and you moan, one hand flailing backways as it slides against the fogged-up window.

"Zayne, fucking hell, just eat me out properly!" The curses tumble out of your mouth before you can think of the repercussions, but there was no way he could keep eating you out through the material, no matter how good it felt.

"So desperate." Zayne mumbles between open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, "So needy."

"Fuck- please," You draw one hand through his hair, pulling his face closer. "Please, please, please-"

"Poor thing. I suppose it would be against my oath to leave my patient in such pain." And he roughly presses his thumb up against the hood of your clit.

You sob, hands scrambling for something- anything- to hold on to as they slip down the window and dig into the leather of the seats. But Zayne was nothing if not observant from your last night together, and it doesn't take long for you to cum as soon as his mouth latches onto your poor neglected cunt through your panties.

Still riding out each trembling wave of your orgasm, Zayne doesn’t fight the way your thighs clench around his head, kissing you through it until he readjusts your legs against his shoulders, forcing you higher onto your upper back. His fingers toy with the edge of the fabric, pleased with the way it sticks to your skin.

All you can focus on is his breathing, heavy and fast, as he stares down at your cunt so intensely it makes you blush, helplessly exposed with your thighs pinned across his broad shoulders. Spread for him like every inch of the offering he intended on devouring you as. His goddess, his sacrificial lamb. Gods, he wants to know how every part of you tastes.

Zayne’s cock twitches again, and he shudders violently, a fat glob of precum falling onto the leather seats below, mixing with your slick that has already slid down his chin and your thighs.

If left alone, no doubt it’ll stain.

“Look at the mess you made.” Zayne scolds, forcing your jaw to the side so you can see the puddle staining the seats. You whimper, and Zayne shakes his head. “Well, we can’t just leave it. I suppose I’ll have to teach you to take responsibility for your actions.”

Your hips jump. It's so hard to focus when he's talking like that, and the only coherent thought you can muster is that Zayne would be a fantastic writer if he ever decided to switch professions.

But he begins to shift you around, and your brows furrow as Zayne’s hand dips between the two of you, down to the leather, sweeping across the splattered mix of cum with two fingers before forcing your jaw towards him again.

“Clean up your mess.”

You think something is permanently fucked in your brain with the way your cunt flutters at that.

Zayne’s unyielding face stares down at you, his dripping fingers pressed against your lips as you wrap around them and suck. It’s heady, the scent of sex overwhelming as Zayne practically fucks the digits into your mouth, sliding them against your tongue until you gag, thumb tracing loving circles against your bottom lip as though coaxing you to take them deeper.

Only after gagging twice more does Zayne take mercy on you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. Instead, the pads of his fingers press against your tongue, and you take the hint, beginning to suck at them until the taste of you disappears.

His fingers slip from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting his fingers and your mouth before Zayne breaks it. Your tongue flicks out to swipe at the excess drool, and he wipes your bottom lip.

“Good girl, tasting just how desperate you are.” Every word of praise Zayne whispers goes straight to your cunt, nearly making you dizzy until he finally sits back.

“And now…” he finally moves to push the ruined fabric to the side, “I get to taste, too.”

The feeling of his hot tongue directly on your slit nearly has you in tears, and your hand lurches into Zayne’s hair to force him closer.

“No pulling. Behave,” Zayne warns. “This is still meant to be discipline for your earlier stunt on the road.”

Whimpering, you nod, parted lips swollen and shiny from the abuse Zayne put them under with his fingers. Satisfied, Zayne finally gives you what you need, kissing the swollen flesh of your clit directly before curling two fingers into your aching cunt.

“Zayne-”

He’s addicted to the way you say his name. He’s addicted, and he’s going to come in his pants if you don’t stop.

You begin begging again before Zayne covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, muffled cries still enough to drive him insane as he focuses on getting you past that high.

Despite his threats, you can’t help but tug at Zayne’s hair, needing him against you as your hips began moving or their own accord, bucking and grinding senselessly against his face until you were practically riding his tongue. Chest heaving, you looked up to see him staring directly at you, silhouetted from the car window, green eyes nearly aglow with wretched desire.

Just like that, you’re coming, hard, thighs clenching down around Zayne’s head until he’s certain you’re trying to kill him. But gods, he never wants you to stop.

Addicted, Zayne presses open mouthed kisses to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him as his eyes roll back.

Desperate, you try to crawl away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Your head hits the car door before Zayne drags you right back, forcing your hips up higher as your back is arched into the air, nearly perpendicular as you sob, legs kicking over his shoulders.

But still, Zayne continues, and he knows. He feels it the moment your thighs lock up, the way your stomach goes tight and the way your senseless pleading still muffled by his palm reaches a higher pitch. And he takes advantage, not letting up as he curls his fingers until your cunt clenches down on his digits and tongue, squirting into his mouth.

Almost in apology, Zayne finally withdraws his fingers as he opts to instead clean you directly with his tongue, nose accidentally overstimulating your swollen clit as you weakly fight to push his head away.

Zayne takes the hint this time, lowering your sore legs onto the seats below, finally set on a solid surface after being held in the air for so long. The slit of your dress is askew across your stomach instead of thigh, and Zayne gently tugs it back into place.

Leaning down, he picks up your forgotten heel before slipping it back into your foot, buckling it as you shiver every time his fingers brush your ankle.

When Zayne finally faces you again, the lower half of his face is a complete mess, and you should be mortified never having squirted before let alone on your mentor’s face.

But Zayne merely wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling like the slick dripping down his chin was won in victory and not debauchery. “Well then, shall we?”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace x reader #lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne #poisonwrites

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minhosimthings · 8 months ago

Text

Sample Session || 18+

Synopsis: In which you ask your boyfriend for a semen sample

Pairings: Sunghoon × fem!reader, non idol au

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex (not for you at all) masturbation (male), spit as lubricant, praise, degradation, swearing, rough dom Sunghoon, sub!reader, reader wears pink lingerie, boob fixation, dirty talk eyyy, collecting semen in that tube because we medical students, mentions of Yunjin from Le Sserafim and Gaeul from IVE

A/N: this is my submission for @deluluriddhi's 500+ followers event which you can find here! Had a shit ton of fun writing this though so here you go babies!

Being a doctor has its advantages.

You get to help people, you get a shit ton of money (student debt sucks but hey), you get a hot boyfriend, you can correctly pronounce and know the meaning of choledocholithiasis.

Did I mention hot boyfriend?

Park Sunghoon. Possibly the hottest and the only surgeon-in-training you'd ever want to have inside of you all day long.

Of course the walls still speak of the times he railed you in the room where they kept the crp training dolls, but we don't speak about that anymore.

But one of the greatest advantages of having a Park Sunghoon, as you soon found out, was that he proved useful in a quest.

For a particularly awkward thing.

"Sperm samples?" Yunjin gasped, almost spilling her coffee on you, "we have to collect sperm samples?"

"For the last time, yes." Gaeul groaned, massaging her temples, Yunjin had been asking the same thing since the past hour.

"How on earth are we going to get semen samples?" Yunjin asked, turning to you for some reason.

"Alright ladies, time to seduce some men." Gaeul laughed, sipping her frappuccino.

"Y/N already seduced one." Yunjin groaned, deflating her body onto the table, "Hey, get some for us too will you?"

"Number 1, we need to have different samples, and number two how the hell am I gonna ask him?" You quizzed the girls, who looked dumbfounded.

"Maybe..you know." Yunjin began, and you realised she had the same face on as she did whenever she saw the extremely phallic design of the law building at your college, "Just do the oogey-boogey with him."

Gaeul's frappucino can spit out her nose, as she cackled loudly, garnering the attention of many people in the cafe.

"The oogey-boogey YUNJIN WHAT?" Gauel kept laughing, holding her stomach tightly, "Is that your way of saying that Y/N needs to seduce Sunghoon into somehow giving her his semen?" She said, when her laughter died down.

"Absolutely not!" You protested. The idea of seducing your boyfriend was...nice to think of but to actually have a practical session? You would have rather jumped off a cliff.

"Just ask him today, we have a holiday tomorrow, so incase the oogey-boogey indeed does oogey-boogey you have semen! Simple."

Gaeul's frappucino was subjected to being ejected out of her nose again, as she rolled over in fits of laughter.

This wasn't you.

This definetly wasn't you, Sunghoon thought.

His mind was racing at a hundred kilometres per the second, and his bag full of pastries for you was abandoned on the floor as soon as he saw what lay in front of him.

A reward for his hard work today? The thought of what he had done to deserve you was running a lap through his brain. You, in your pretty pink lace, with white trimmings, and pearls on your neck, the ones he bought you of course.

"Well hello there, gorgeous." He said, grabbing your waist in his arms, as he always did when he got back home. But this time, with a different purpose.

"All dressed up for me today?" He quizzed you, placing a kiss at the nape of your neck. It was pathetic how much the simple action made your hole so wet.

Sunghoon toyed with the pretty pink lace of your bra, kissing up and down your collarbone. God had you changed your perfume? It seemed so intoxicating to him. Your hands came to rest on his shoulder, as you nibbled the tip of his ear a bit, which made his dick throb inside his pants.

"Come on." He mumbled through his kisses, lifting you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist, which you did promptly.

The one thing that Sunghoon would have never expected was the various medical equipment that lay on your bed.

"Y/N." He glanced at you suspiciously, putting you down on your feet, "what's all this?"

You awkwardly cleared your throat and rushed over to the bed, picking up a tiny test tube and shoving it in your boyfriend's hands.

"Alright so I have an assignment and I need your help." You said, a bit more seriously than you had wanted to.

"Do you need me to get you pregnant or something?" Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darkening, "Cause I won't say no."

"Actually it's not that."

"Then what is it, princess?"

"Canihaveyoursemensampleplease." You mumbled, or more properly, to say, rapped.

"Y/N, proper sentences please?"

Sighing heavily to yourself, you gulped and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon again, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to his pink lips.

"I need a semen sample for an assignment." You mumbled into his ear, albeit a but louder this time. Sunghoon smirked into your neck.

"That's it?" He asked, a cocky smile spreading on his face. His baby, needs a sample from him? He thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

"Yeah...it's fine if you say no though!" You panicked, looking at him with widened eyes. But Sunghoon only chuckled again and raised your chin to his level with his finger.

"How could I say no when you're asking so nicely?" He said, guiding you over to the bed. Kicking off his shoes, Sunghoon settled in nicely between the sheets, while you awkwardly sat at the edge, handing the tube to him.

"Don't want to join me baby?" Sunghoon asked, taking off his belt and his trousers, and pulling you in for a sudden kiss, by grabbing your face with his hands.

"You're a medical student too Hoon, you know I can't." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Alright, but do me a favour. Hold the tube in place for me will you?" He handed the tube back to you, and you bit your lip. Holding it in place. In other words, bending over to make Hoon see your cleavage.

"If that's what'll get you off, then fine." You grumbled, although your panties were getting wetter by the second at the idea.

Sunghoon leaned against the bedframe, relaxing into the sheets, holding his throbbing cock with one hand. He began to jerk off hard, his hand rising to the tip of the cock, where more fat drops of precum accumulate, feeling the alcohol of your perfume take over the body,

"that what you want, princess?” he spits on his cock and starts jerking off again while he speaks his hand doesn't stop, slow movements, up and down as if he wanted to feel the familiar sensation of your walls clenched around him. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, at the sight of seeing your tits, lined perfectly in your lingerie. The sight of it made him go mental.

His hand never abandons his cock, squeezing, going up and down without losing rhythm. Sunghoon began to feel signs of orgasm so he reduced the speed of his hand, waiting for what will come next.

Sunghoon thinks while squeezing his cock tightly, holding by the base his fingers massage the balls, he climbs his hand slowly and passes his thumb over the head of the cock dripping precum, spreading and with his eyes glazed, little moans escaping his lips. Sunghoon sits more centered on the bed, drops of sweat run down his hair, dripping and turning a trail around his neck, chest and belly, his body is so sensitive to touch that the drops of water seem to scratch while the sheets seem to hug him.

"Fuck—im close." He whimpered, eyes rolling back as the knot in his stomach broke and the next moment, his hand was drenched in cum, and you were holding a test tube filled with what you needed.

"Shit" Sunghoon fell back on the bed, while you happily inserted the semen into your carrier so that it stayed safe. You crawled promptly into the bed with him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you so much Hoonie, I had no idea how I was going to get the-"

"What about my payment princess?" Sunghoon's whispered growl in your ear left you crumbling.

His touch left your skin burning in desire for more and before you could even catch a breath his hands grabbed your legs and you find yourself wrapped around his waist. Your hair was soft between his fingers and as he gently pulled it, you let out a little groan.

"Hoonie–" you whimpered, feeling a blush creep up to your cheeks.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

Holding your waist firmly, Sunghoon flipped you over onto the bed with a rough thump, making you moan at the very sensation of his biceps touching your body.

"So wet for me already?" Sunghoon chuckled, removing your panties slowly, "You're so adorable."

"Shut up." You groaned, feeling embarrased again, "Hoonie, we ran out of condoms, maybe we should-"

"You're on birth control right?" Sunghoon pressed a kiss to your neck, making you mewl when his tip slightly touched your pussy, "You're not leaving this bed until the sheets are either drenched or until you've fainted."

His voice was rough as he lined himself up with your entrance as you panted in anticipation, fingers digging into his back when he finally entered you, moaning deeply at the feeling of your walls starting to clench around him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Sunghoon fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” he praises.

Discomposed, his voice thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Sunghoon rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs.

“That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned ass in quick succession.

“Can’t you handle it, baby?” Sunghoon looked at you with pity, "Is it too much for your pathetic pussy?"

“I can-fuck, I can—handle it.” you whimpered. You clearly, could not handle it.

His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

"Hoon-I—ah FUCK!"

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

That unlocked something inside of him. While he still held you, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he could reach, he slammed into you, forcing your small body to jerk in his arms with each thrust. He grunted and moaned, nearly panting, as he crammed himself inside of you.

It doesn’t take long for your next orgasm to build up, releasing it with a silent cry as you unintentionally dig your fingers into Sunghoon's back causing him to groan in your ear in pleasure. He keeps his thrusts consistent as you begin to leak around his cock and onto the blanket beneath you. There’s no doubt you’ll have to change the bedding later.

All you could do was bury your head in his chest until with one more thrust, he pushed into you, unloading pump after pump of cum. Afterwards, he slumped down, slowly dragging his cock out of your stuffed cunt, leaving you empty and internally screaming at the intoxication of the burn.

"Shit-" Sunghoon plopped down on the bed, next to you. Both of your chests rose and fell in unison, as you managed to steeply catch your breath.

A moment of calm silence arose before-

"Does your professor need any more sampler or...?" Sunghoon asked, eliciting a laugh out of you.

"Nope, just the one." You chuckled at his unseriousness as he pulled you in for cuddles.

"You're changing the sheets this time Hoon."

"Damn it."

Bonus

"So you did the oogey-boogey with him?"

"Yunjin!"

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jensettermandu · 9 months ago

Text

open heart - yu jimin

(valentine's day special)

genre; smut, fluff, gets cheesy at times

pairing; g!p karina x female reader

content; age gap (jimin is older), rough sex, hair pulling, praising, degrading names (?), fingering (reader receiving), p in v :D, think i forgot something

synopsis; jimin had never been the romantic type, but she wanted to try and make valentine's day work out despite how much work she and her girlfriend had because working at a hospital meant being on call 24/7. however to her luck, nothing unfortunately went as planned right from the morning because of simple misunderstandings and she ended up raking her brain for how to fix everything

wc; 12k+

masterlist.

a/n: im no doctor peeps, i just occasionally watch grey's anatomy so if anything is not correct medically that's not on me

It was enough that they were busy, that they didn’t have time for dates, and when they did they were already tired after working nonstop for hours. Night shifts, day shifts, working overtime, working for 12 hours a day if not 16 or 24. Being on call 24/7 as in literally because they were always on call.

That couldn’t be enough stress.

Y/n’s day got even worse as she stood in the patient's room, at 7:30 am, fully changed into her dull light blue scrubs and the white lab coat like every other intern in the room. She was exhausted, not because she was tired, but because of how her morning had started.

The whole reason why she was doing her best to avoid Jimin’s eyes who stood on the opposite end of the bed as they were doing rounds. It was obvious enough, so obvious that she sucked air through her teeth and shot her fellow intern and friend over the time she’s worked there, Yunjin a glance when she nudged Y/n. She tried to get Y/n’s attention, curious about what had happened, the two pushing each other’s hands until Y/n gripped the red heads hand to keep it in place because it was starting to make their other attending doctor look their way all while Minjeong spoke–Y/n standing in the middle of the two.

“Mrs Lee has a history of heart disease and multiple surgeries—” Minjeong who was yet another intern and friend with the two started.

The two attending doctors consisted of Yu Jimin, head of cardiothoracic surgery and the general surgeon Miyawaki Sakura. Both of them were listening yet Jimin’s eyes were not on her patient, but on the intern, the one who she was a boss to in the workplace.

“In for a beating heart quadruple C.A.B.G.” She finished explaining as they all stood around the older woman who lay in the hospital bed.

“On Valentine’s Day.” Mark chuckled, it was enough to make all heads turn to the male intern who got nudged by Taeyong at the comment he made. “Sorry.” He apologised, and Sakura sighed as she was responsible for the interns. There was one thing for sure, this was the best yet the most difficult batch to keep in check as they were all talented interns with passions and a thing for doing things their way at times.

Not to mention with a thing for other forbidden things too.

Jimin cleared her throat, and her stare fell back on Y/n who tried to avoid it, but it didn’t seem to work. The–technically–heart doctor had other plans.

“Why keep the heart beating doctor Y/l/n?” In the end, the girl was the most talented intern out of all.

Y/n forced a smile towards the older woman, hands in the pockets of her lab coat to avoid any more nudges from her friends. The two girls on each side of her looked at Y/n, eyes subtly glancing between the two. This time Y/n met eyes with the doctor who gave a small nod for the girl to talk.

“Scar tissue is too deep–” The girl started, glancing at the older woman in the bed. Y/n knew very well why Jimin asked her. Whoever answered got to be on the case and Y/n knew that she couldn’t say no even if the rest knew the answer too. It would make her look bad and Jimin too if she lied and said that she didn’t know. It was a prestigious hospital. The last thing anyone wanted to hear was a doctor or intern saying that they didn’t know something. Of course, she would trap her just to talk because Y/n was good at avoiding someone if she wanted to. “The heart is too weak to start up again, so you only immobilise the portion you’re working on and you leave the rest of the heart on its own.”

“Welcome to the case, Y/l/n.” Was all that Jimin said as she closed the thick patient file, making Y/n purse her lips as it got extended over the bed and with no other choice she took it.

[A few hours earlier]

“Why are you still angry?” Jimin asked, trying her best to understand why the girl in the passenger seat was still pissed. She knew Y/n, and she knew how she acted when she was angry. The intern would ignore her, give her the cold shoulder, and if it got too much she would speak up because she always had something to say so giving her the cold shoulder was difficult.

“What do you expect me to be, Jimin?” Y/n at last spoke up, looking out the window as they were driving through the early morning of Seoul. It was cold, but in February it gradually started to get better and the snow wasn’t present anymore. That didn’t mean that the mornings weren’t even more difficult because the last thing anyone wanted was to get up at 5:30 am, to get out of a warm bed and get out into the cold.

That was probably the worst part of the day, usually–Y/n was quite sure that the whole day was ruined for her because of Jimin. They never fought, it always worked out with small bickering here and there, but this was where Y/n drew the line at what was acceptable. It was enough that they were keeping their relationship secret–aside from Y/n’s friends knowing–a doctor dating an intern who worked under her would not look good for either of them. The last thing they needed to be accused of was favouritism or anything along those lines.

The only reason why Y/n got picked so often was because of how skilful she was, not because Jimin and she were dating.

“Not this angry?” Jimin unsurely questioned, her eyes glancing between Y/n and the road as they were in her car. The younger had spent the night with her at her apartment since Y/n lived with roommates–Yunjin and Minjeong–the doctor also lived closer to the hospital. All she wanted to do was turn back time to the morning when her alarm clock went off and prevent the fight from happening when they were still lying under the covers naked after the previous night.

Jimin wasn’t the biggest romantic, matter fact she was terrible at extraordinary romantic gestures. Valentine’s Day had just started and she had already managed to mess up.

She scratched at the back of her head, trying to figure out what she could even do if they both worked a 24-hour shift all while Y/n was talking. The doctor was listening though, she knew how to think and listen at the same time.

“We’ve been together for almost five months and you’re still texting with your ex?”

Jimin knew she messed up, but it wasn’t for the reasons that Y/n thought that she messed up. She didn’t have any time to defend herself because there was more than just texting.

“Not to mention, you never mentioned that your ex is working in the department next to ours.”

It all just started to pile up more and more and Jimin had a hard time gathering her words as she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She never thought that it would matter since it was her ex, but maybe she hadn’t thought far enough. Far enough to think that it would ever come up somehow. Now it had and she realised that she had dug her own grave.

She had to explain why she was texting her ex all while trying to figure out what she could do for Y/n on Valentine’s Day.

“What does it matter if I am with you and love you?” Was the best she could say because the intern in the car with her had stolen her heart. It was as if Y/n had laid her down on that operating table, cut her open and taken her heart out while Jimin was under anaesthesia because she had no clue when it even happened.

“What does it matter? It matters if you’re still hung up on her.”

The car came to a stop as she parked in her spot outside the biggest hospital in Seoul. The doctor turned in her seat and looked at the younger girl. Y/n looked right back at Jimin who looked at her in disbelief, but at the same time, she did her best to understand why Y/n would think that. She knew that she wouldn’t be too fond of Y/n texting with her ex.

“I am not.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at that and unbuckled the belt. “Then why is she in your contacts?” She questioned, grabbing her things before opening the door. Jimin quickly tried her best to hurry up and get out of her seatbelt while trying to stop the girl from walking out on her this angry.

“Y/n you’re–” Jimin groaned as the belt had to get jammed as she continued to pull on it.

A cold wave brushed along her skin and hit her even harder when the door to her car slammed closed and she gave up on trying to undo her belt. The woman heaved a sigh and leaned back in the seat, watching her girlfriend walk ahead and meet in the middle with the batch of interns she was close with.

It would be a long 24-hour shift.

[Present]

Jimin did her best to focus on the elderly woman whose heart she would be operating while Y/n was in the room with her. Her eyes kept glancing between the stethoscope she was using on Mrs Lee’s back and Y/n who was moving around and organising the rest of the stuff. All while informing the woman of how extensive the operation would be, making sure she knew the risks.

She was wondering why she was never informed of the risks of falling for an intern like Y/n.

The girl was too much for her poor heart.

“We’ll get you to the O.R. this afternoon,” Jimin concluded, removing the stethoscope and helping the woman lean back down before putting it around her shoulder. She could feel Y/n’s presence right behind her, looking over her shoulder. “You do understand the risks?” She asked to make sure, her eyes looking between Mrs Lee and her husband who sat in the chair in the corner of the room. It made her wonder how they felt on a day like this because she was feeling quite forlorn at the moment.

Y/n was stubborn.

“I’ll check back later,” Jimin informed Mrs Lee after getting the answer she needed. The doctor did not have time to grab the patient file when Y/n already had it. With one last polite smile, she quickly caught up to the intern who had just stepped out of the room.

“Y/n, can we talk?” She questioned, her hand gently wrapping around the girl’s forearm as she stopped her and pulled her to the side right outside the room. It was hard to talk in the crowded area as they were constantly passed by nurses, interns, and doctors. Gossip spread like butter on a toast in the hospital.

“If it’s about the patient, then go ahead Doctor Yu.”

Now the last name came to play and so Jimin knew that it would take a lot more to get Y/n to listen to her. Or maybe the best thing to do was to let her blow off steam as it had only been a few hours since she snapped in the car.

“Take her for a thallium scan and pick up her x-rays on the way.”

However, she just wanted to try and get a word in, to test the waters and see if Y/n was willing to forgive her for this. Her grip stayed when Y/n was about to walk. The girl who was just an inch taller stopped and the two looked at each other. Y/n’s features were soft yet they could come off sharp, especially her eyes and Jimin always got lost in her. It was enough to let her know that she had no room for mistakes. There were hearts at stake here, but she was quite sure that this wouldn’t cause any hearts to break.

Love was somehow more difficult than any open-heart operation she had ever performed.

The noise of the hospital was almost deafening as so much was going on around them yet there was still that calm and silence among them because it was a hospital. The white almost blinding interior with the faint sound of machines smelled of antiseptic and it was a scent that brought comfort to the both of them because of how much time they spent at work. It was almost as comforting as listening to the beating of each other’s hearts and dwelling in the scent of one another, but even that scent would mix with the hospitals after being in it for hours.

“She and I texted–”

It was as if the only thing on her side today was despair and luck had thrown itself out the window on the highest floor in the hospital and splattered into a puddle with no one there to save it. Was there something she could do right today? It was enough that she sucked at romantic gestures yet still wanted to do something for Y/n, but when she wanted to try the world was opposing the idea.

“Doctor Yu, intern Y/l/n—” Y/n looked away from Jimin whose grip slipped away from her arm and at the woman whom she couldn’t be mad at because Jimin was the one who wasn’t supposed to be texting her. She couldn’t be angry at the doctor who approached them. The intern smiled at her, politely bowing her head while Jimin kept her crumbling composure as she looked at her ex.

“Can I borrow Doctor Yu for a second?” The woman questioned. Jimin looked between Y/n and the paediatrician from the department next to theirs. All she got from Y/n was a smile, her eyes sparkling in the fluorescent yet dull light of the hospital.

“She’s all yours, Doctor Yizhuo.”

And so Y/n left Jimin once again who watched the girl disappear after taking a turn, her eyes falling onto the woman in front of her.

“Repairing hearts on Valentine’s Day when you should start with your own.”

“Please shut up.” Y/n politely said as she sat down at the round table in the staff canteen, placing the tray with food down. Minjeong sucked air through her teeth as Yunjin chuckled. Despite being on Jimin’s case Y/n had been taking care of Mrs Lee alone and only talked to the doctor when it was needed, strictly work-related as she tried to give her the cold shoulder.

It was lunch break at last and soon she would be in the operating room, doing an open heart surgery by Jimin’s side. The head of cardiothoracic surgery. She knew that the doctor had something to say, but she first needed to phantom the fact that she had been with Jimin for almost five months and suddenly she was texting her ex. Why would she never tell her that her ex was a woman she met every day and at times worked with together?

“Why are you avoiding Doctor Heart Snatcher?” She rolled her eyes at Yunjin’s words–nickname coming from her field and looks– the two guys looked at them as everyone wanted an answer as to why Y/n was avoiding Jimin. Not only that but why the heart doctor’s lingering gaze lingered more than usual. It was almost filled with longing despite the two being in the same room. It was difficult to look at for them.

“She’s texting with her ex,” Y/n grumbled, using the chopsticks to play around with the food on her tray as she could barely eat from the bitterness that covered her heart. It was causing her heart to twist at the sour bitterness that got caused by being away from each other. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to mend it by simply going to the person who was an expert when it came to hearts. In a few hours, she had to be in the O.R. and would be stuck in that room with Jimin for six hours if not more.

“What?” Mark was the one to exclaim first, pushing his tray forward and resting his elbows on the table to lean closer to the girl who sat opposite him.

“Are you serious?” Yunjin asked next, looking at Y/n with her head tilted.

“Yes she still has her ex in her contacts and…” Y/n trailed off, still baffled by the fact that she had even worked with Jimin’s ex without knowing it. It wasn’t like she would let it get in the way because she was professional at work, but she would have felt less of a fool if she had known. It was almost embarrassing to admit.

“And?” Taeyong asked.

“She works here,” her voice withered as she said it in a whisper. Minjeong offered her comfort by patting her thigh before going back to eat her food. “Told you it was a bad idea to date Doctor Heart Snatcher.” She mumbled and Y/n dismissed her as she grabbed the water bottle, unscrewing it. The vixen frowned. This wasn’t enough to make her doubt Jimin was it? Has it been a bad idea to date her?

“If she knows how to fix a heart she surely knows how to break it too,” Mark commented.

“She hasn’t broken my heart–” Y/n cleared the air as they made it sound like they were going through a break-up when all she was doing was taking some time to process it. “I’m just pissed she didn’t tell me and that she is texting her for whatever reason.” The longer that she thought about it the better it would be to hear the reason why. Maybe she had been a bit too impulsive with her accusations and should have listened to Jimin first. At the same time, she was too stubborn to let her ego down and ask after avoiding listening to her in the first place.

“Who is it though?” Taeyong questioned and Y/n subtly glanced around. The canteen was busy with staff members who had their breaks, everyone eating together and chatting. Natural light was cast through the big windows and this was one of the few places that wasn’t as dull because of the eye-hurting fluorescent lights. It was always busy, but not with people running because their pagers went off or pushing patients through the halls. Shoes didn’t squeak as loud because it all got muffled by the people who were talking.

The scent of antiseptics wasn’t present either and that was what stole comfort from this place for Y/n.

“I’m not telling.” She knew that it wasn’t her place to reveal her girlfriend’s past and private relationships to anyone even if they were her friends. It was enough that they knew about their relationship even if they had been hiding it for the first few months until Yunjin walked in on them about to remove each other’s clothes after forgetting to lock the on-call room. Luckily enough it was Yunjin and not someone else who could get them in trouble–such as any envious workers or Jimin’s boss who did not tolerate doctors dating first-year interns.

“I bet it’s that nurse Aeri, they’re so close.” Yunjin started to guess as Y/n ignored what they were saying, trying to eat some of the food to be able to stand in the O.R. for six hours.

“Why would she be close with her ex?”

“Well, she’s texting her so they’re still close.”

“Texting and talking face to face is different.”

“Not when it’s your ex.”

“What if it’s Doctor Miyawaki?”

“That would be even worse.”

“Do you guys not have your own private lives to worry about? As far as I remember neither of you have any plans for Valentine’s Day and that’s why you all took the 24-hour shift.” The intern finally came back into the conversation that died down right after she finished her words.

“I’d say something, but Doctor Heart Snatcher is on her way here.” Y/n looked up from her tray and looked to her right where Yunjin was and looking past the girl she spotted Jimin. No matter how pissed she was, there was no room in her to deny how attractive her Heart Snatcher actually was in her navy blue scrubs, white lab coat, her black hair up in a ponytail, and her eyes always on Y/n.

This was the same woman who she would stand with for six hours in the O.R. and both of them loved their job enough to not get distracted by each other. It was yet another thing Y/n loved about Jimin, the fact that she managed to learn so much from her and how work and relationship-oriented she was and made it work out with this demanding job.

She made it so much harder to avoid her and before Y/n knew it the woman was by their table, hands in the pockets of her white coat, the nameplate pinned right over her right breast by the small pocket with a blue ballpoint pen.

“Y/l/n could we talk for a second?” Jimin asked, clearing her throat as their eyes were on her as she stood by the edge of the table where Yunjin was. Her eyes scanned over no one else but Y/n who opened her mouth, making the doctor wait in anticipation. The intern was only in her scrubs now, her hair clipped back with her wispy bangs gently falling over her face. Jimin didn’t even want to look at anyone else.

“Oh–” Y/n let out surprised, pushing her tray forward and planting her hands against the table. “Oh, that’s my pager, I’m sorry Doctor Yu, I have to prioritise the patients.” The intern excused, pushing herself up from the chair as she bowed at her boss to be polite. Jimin felt even more confused and she watched the girl walk away with a slight job, still sure that she did not hear her pager go off at all. It was somewhat humiliating, but she probably deserved it. She heaved a sigh and looked down at the rest to see Minjeong suppress the snicker with a cough.

“Was I the only one who didn’t hear her pager go off?” She questioned them as she removed her one hand from the pocket and rubbed the back of her neck, she looked where Y/n was to see the girl walk out of the canteen.

“Nope, I 100% heard it…” Yunjin said, looking up at the doctor.

“Yeah, it went off,” Minjeong confirmed and Jimin looked back down at them with her lips pursed.

“Kind of loud in here so you probably didn’t catch it,” Mark added.

“Exactly.” And Taeyong finished.

She knew that she had run off because she felt stupid for not listening to Jimin the first time she tried to explain it. It was one of the causes and now more doubt had grown in her from hearing her coworkers talk about it. The perspective only got worse as she walked to the changing room that they all shared. It was empty and her pager never went off. She not only was texting, but talking, however, they worked together at times so they obviously would talk face to face.

Y/n knew that she had no reason to be insecure.

With a sigh, she opened her locker and stopped from reaching for her phone when the little pink sticky note caught her eye as it was stuck right to the locker door on the inside. She had no lock on her locker, no one did since everyone knew each other well enough to know that no one would steal anything. It was the first time she had any notes stuck on the inside of her door though.

The girl licked her lips and took it down to read what the blue letters said.

Our hearts are a muscular pump, that’s why exercise is so good, but just one look at you and mine gets the exercise it needs.

She didn’t know what to think, but the thought of it being Jimin to leave it there made her suppress a smile. Y/n couldn’t be sure though because the woman never said things like these and she might as well be smiling over a note that someone else left because there were a few other interns interested in the girl. Jimin wasn’t romantic, she had her ways of showing love, but they never came this way. The intern folded it and stuffed it into her jacket’s pocket so she could ask her girlfriend if she was the one behind it.

Y/n didn’t expect a next time, but the next time she did stumble upon a note was when she went back to Mrs Lee to take her vitals and she opened the patient files. Soon enough she had the open heart operation she would get to watch Jimin perform as she would help. It did let her narrow it down to who it could be but she was doubting that the male nurse was leaving the notes since he wasn’t supposed to be in the intern's locker room and neither was Jimin, but still.

She bit her lower lip and glanced up from the file at the woman with her husband, red roses standing by her bed with a card. Y/n had never been big on these things, but she realised that maybe she was if just a note made her feel a bit giddier because of Jimin than she usually got. The words were so cheesy, but somehow that made it even better.

The reason why my heart receives blood that is low on oxygen is because you always steal my breath.

It was melting the facade Y/n had tried to keep the whole day just to show how pissed she was, but Jimin made it impossible. It was impossible to stay mad at her girlfriend because with each second that passed in the operating room, Y/n realised how good of a girlfriend Jimin was.

The intern stayed focused on the task at hand just like everyone else did. Somewhere between those blurry lines between focus and daydreaming, she found herself staring at the beating heart.

She knew that love wasn’t connected to the heart, all emotions were regulated in the brain. However, the only thing she realised whenever she was in a room with Jimin was the way the doctor made her heart beat faster. It was the sole reason why love was associated with the heart. The heart spoke for love and no one listened to their head when it came to love. Despite the brain regulating these emotions, it was the heart that let her know that it was Jimin who hit the bell and made her heart ring.

The only time she did notice her heartbeat was with Jimin because she made it pick up its pace.

The heart they were operating was right in the open and partially numb but beating and somewhere along those lines was how they made each other feel. They numbed everything around them, leaving their hearts right in the open for the other to reach for it and nestle inside of it.

“Mrs Lee is doing well.” The doctor commented, making Y/n lean in slightly closer to Jimin to get a better look at the beating muscle as they stood shoulder to shoulder with each other. The intern was taking care of the suction and the operation was coming to an end, making the rest strike up small conversations.

“Did you know that the heart can beat even when it’s disconnected from the body?” Jimin mumbled, making Y/n subtly glance at her for a split second before looking right back down. Y/n knowingly hummed at the words, wondering what Jimin was trying to reach since these were random facts and nothing new she was learning.

“That’s why mine is still beating.”

“What?” The vixen questioned, her eyebrows furrowing at the words that confused her.

“It’s in your hands.”

Y/n widened her eyes at the bold words Jimin said out loud and only confirmed that she was the culprit behind the notes. It was bold, not because she said them, but because she said those words while everyone stood in the theatre above and could hear them talking. Was this some kind of statement? Was she trying to prove something? Maybe Y/n was reading too much into it, but Jimin barely referred to her as Y/n when someone else was around just to not get caught.

“Doctor–” The girl tried, unsure of where Jimin was heading with this because if this was a statement Y/n was getting flustered. Suddenly she felt worried that Jimin’s boss was possibly up there watching them and was hearing this. It would get them both in trouble. However, she did not get to stop her because the doctor had other plans.

“There are four chambers in the heart, each holds about 70 ml of blood–although each one of mine is filled with you.” Y/n’s eyes glanced at Jimin again, but quickly went back down to the heart that was beating steadily compared to the wild horses in her chest. The doctor looked mostly unaffected but that wasn’t weird since she was supposed to be composed under pressure. Y/n knew how to take pressure without letting her knees buckle, but Jimin truly made hers weak in a way no one else did.

The words were so cheesy and it only made it worse, especially if everyone else was hearing them.

It burned her ears and she wanted to hide.

Y/n barely had time to register that the operation was successful and had ended by the thoughts racing in her head. However, Jimin stepped back, holding out her hands as they pulled off the thick gloves she had been using to operate. There was no time to ask questions now as everyone was praising the other, saying ‘good job’ because it was a team effort in the end. The vixen removed her single-use gloves and threw them in the trash as she undid her mask and took it off after walking towards the exit.

Finally, Jimin’s eyes met her, those brown eyes were so much more intense now and Y/n wanted to hear every little thought that was behind them, especially the reason behind this. The two of them walked out of the room where they just had to stitch the woman up.

“What was all that about?” She questioned in genuine confusion, unsure if her tone was harsh or just confused. Her hand reached for the surgical cap and she removed it while the older woman was already washing her hands in the big sink as they were the only ones in the scrub room. Jimin only hummed back with just as much confusion, and now it was coming off as a confusing game to Y/n. Was the doctor messing with her? Or was all this genuine?

Jimin wasn’t cruel to mess with her this way.

“Why were you saying all that in front of everyone?”

“You didn’t like what I said?” Jimin confusedly asked and looked to the side where Y/n stood and washed her hands. Her eyes lingered on the girl who was staring down at the water that was running down the drain. The question made her look up though and she shook her head with a frown as it wasn’t what she meant.

“That’s not– that’s not what I meant.” She didn’t have the cheesy lines in mind, but the fact that they were said in front of everyone else. In the next hour, it would be known around the whole hospital that there was something between them. Gossip was always working its 24/7 shift at the place without any breaks.

“Then it doesn’t matter.” She concluded, turning off the faucet and flicking her fingers to rid of the excess water before reaching for the paper towels in the soundless room.

It truly felt like some little game to Y/n now. Was Jimin fooling around now? If so Y/n wanted her to admit to it now.

“What doesn’t matter?”

The intern turned off her faucet, grabbing the paper towels she got handed by the doctor who removed her surgical cap. She shrugged at Y/n’s question and reached over to the girl who almost flinched away at the intimate touch when Jimin brushed a hair strand away from her face. It wasn’t intimate on that level, but it was when the door from the operating room opened and the rest were starting to walk inside.

“If everyone heard it. If you liked it then it doesn’t matter.” She gave Y/n a small smile, hand dropping down and giving the younger’s shoulder a light squeeze before she passed her. Y/n turned on her heels, following out right after her though. The area was empty as people only walked by occasionally and at the corner of her eye she could see Minjeong and Yunjin waiting at the top of the stairs, trying to stay out of sight to listen in on the two. Doing a poor job at staying subtle at all because even Jimin glanced at them.

“Jimin–hold on, you can’t just walk away without finishing this.” This time Y/n was the one to grab the woman’s hand that was warm to the touch and Jimin grabbed hold of the girl’s hand. She squeezed her before letting go as she turned to look at Y/n. There was something about the soft smile on her lips, but it wasn’t enough for Y/n to figure it out. She needed more, but she wasn’t getting more.

“Sorry, I have to get going, I have something important to do.”

“What is more important than our relationship right now?” Y/n seriously questioned only to not get an answer as the doctor walked away without another word. There was no way the intern was going to chase after the doctor who seemed in a rush.

Was she getting back at her?

Was this really how her Valentine’s Day would look like? Despite the anger she had felt before, she was longing for Jimin.

She looked towards the stairs to see Yunjin and Minjeong quickly walking down them and it made Y/n start walking away from them. It wasn’t a second before they caught up to her, hooking their arms with hers to make her walk with them.

“There are four chambers in my heart–” Yunjin started with a sigh, leaning into the intern. “Each filled with you.” Minjeong finished with another sigh.

“Who was up there?” Y/n questioned instead, ignoring the teasing and how they repeated the words that had come from Jimin.

“Honestly, Doctor Kim was there, and a bunch of interns.” Doctor Kim who specialised in neurology was another Doctor whom they worked with just like they did with Jimin. It made Y/n suck air through her teeth as she knew how much stricter Kim Chaewon was compared to Jimin.

“What if she tells the Chief?” Y/n knew about the two competing surgeons as both wanted to be the next chief of surgery. This could ruin Jimin’s chances and Y/n was now drowning in worry and a twinge of anger at how careless the heart doctor was.

“Then you will most likely get in trouble.” Yunjin deadpanned, receiving a look from Y/n and Minjeong at how much worse it made everything. The girl was already aware of how they could get in trouble. They had been secretive about it for a reason. It wasn’t like it was forbidden, but the chief of surgery would deem it unprofessional and have his doubts about giving the position to Jimin next.

“I just need a snack and then I am taking a nap.” Y/n declared as she slipped her arms out of the two girl’s hold and stopped at the vending machine. The two leaned on each side of the vending machine, keeping the conversation going as they looked at Y/n who looked like she was in a huge dilemma.

The vixen was worried about what could happen now. She knew Doctor Kim could bite just for it to sting and hurt because she would do everything to become the next chief. She could be cruel.

Did that mean she would have to break up with Jimin? Or Jimin with her. For the security of her spot as the next chief.

“Oh, Doctor Heart Snatcher has you in the mood for a snack?” Yunjin teased to lighten the mood she by accident had made worse. Y/n glanced at the redhead who shot her eyebrows up in a suggestive manner as she looked her up and down while doing so. All it took was for the intern to walk in on them making out once and all hell let loose because she made Y/n look like a sex addict–which she was not, if anything she blamed Jimin.

Minjeong seemed to get a different memo by the words as she leaned closer to Y/n with her shoulder holding her up against the vending machine as Y/n crouched down to get her stuff.

“Are you pregnant?” She asked in a whisper and Y/n glanced up at her in silence while getting the bun from the slot.

“That is not what she meant by that, Minjeong.”

It left the girl thinking for a bit as Y/n stood up, now the two taller girls stood and watched Minjeong piece it together. “Oh…Oh! Oh, that kind of snack.” She exclaimed, realising that it held a dirty meaning and not pregnancy cravings.

“Yeah, but the snack that I mean is a bun and then sleep since Doctor Yu seemingly is ignoring me now after ruining our future together,” Y/n explained as she showed the pack she had picked up before walking away from the two to head to the lockers and get her phone before heading to the on-call room.

“Already thinking about a future together.” Yunjin snorted as she pushed herself up to use the vending machine.

“You’re just jealous no one asked you out for Valentine’s Day.”

“We’re in the same shoes.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m not on the 24-hour shift, matter fact I am heading out right now because I have dinner plans.” Minjeong smugly said as she started to walk away.

“Dinner with your mum does not count.”

“Shut up, at least I got asked for dinner by someone.”

Y/n grumbled under her breath, the pack with the bun between her teeth as she was busy with her phone while walking. The walk to the locker and then to the on-call room took an extra ten minutes because she had to speak to Mrs Lee's husband and tell him about her procedure. Jimin would usually do so, but she had disappeared into thin air and left it for Y/n to handle.

The text was for Jimin, hoping she had her phone on her to answer because Y/n knew she was on a break after the 12-hour shift they had worked. All they were to do now was be on call while resting and they would be called in during the next 12 hours. Y/n knew that soon enough her break would be over, she gave it an hour, a chance of a bit more. She needed more because she needed to talk to Jimin.

She opened the door and was just about to send the text, but was stopped by the voice.

“Finally, Doctor Y/l/n.” The voice startled Y/n who looked up, quickly catching the bun that fell from between her lips.

“Jimin,” Y/n exclaimed somewhere between annoyed and still startled by the unexpected guest yet one she had hoped for. She turned off her phone and stepped inside fully as she closed and locked the door after her. Her eyes landed on the doctor who was in only her scrubs now, her hair down as she sat at the edge of the twin-sized bed.

“Come here.” She gestured, holding her hand out and Y/n raised her eyebrows. She hesitated, especially after what had happened between them a good 30 minutes ago. Jimin gave her a nod of reassurance and motioned with her fingers for Y/n to walk over to her. It was all it took for Y/n to push herself up from the door, placing her stuff down on the table on the way before taking hold of Jimin’s hand.

The woman pulled Y/n over to her and pulled her until she had the girl in her lap, straddling her. “Are you going to say something cheesy and run off again?” Jimin chuckled, looking up at Y/n, her one hand caressed along the girl's thigh while the other reached up to her. She reached her hand over to the back of Y/n’s hair and took out the hair clamp, letting her hair fall loosely over her shoulders while putting the clamp aside.

“Do you want me to say something cheesy again?” She questioned, her hand ran to Y/n’s hip as she pulled the girl even closer to her, making the latter grab hold of her shoulder.

“Yeah, but I’d like to know what you were thinking and about what happened this morning. Some cheesy lines won’t make me forget.” It made the doctor hum, her hands gently roamed Y/n’s body, caressing and slowly finding their way under the shirt she had on to touch her waist. Their eye contact didn’t falter for a second and it was then and there that they both realised their heartbeat that had picked up.

This was love, the brain may have registered it, but the heart felt it.

“Okay, I had to talk to the chief about something and do something else too…” Jimin trailed off, her eyes shifted away from Y/n’s this time. It made Y/n frown as she tilted her head, waiting for the woman to continue. She sighed and dropped her hands, fingers carefully playing with the material of Y/n’s scrubs as she licked her lips before she continued with her eyes back on Y/n’s.

“I talked to the chief about—well, about us because it’s been almost five months and I thought it would only be fair for you and me if I talked to him about it instead of assuming that he would be truly against it.”

“What?” Y/n asked, her eyes sporting a look of even more confusion and worry. There were only two possible ways for this to end and she only wanted one of them, but it felt like the one she didn’t want had a stronger chance of being true.

“Wait, don’t worry…He was just a bit disappointed that I am in a relationship with a first-year intern, but somewhere along the lines he understood that it doesn’t interrupt our professionalism.”

“So, it’s fine?” Y/n asked to clarify, feeling the weight untie itself from around her heart as she caressed Jimin’s warm neck. Her fingers gently traced her skin, feeling the faint goosebumps and shivers that came from the older one. Jimin held onto Y/n’s forearms as Y/n intertwined her fingers behind the doctor's neck who nodded.

The girl had been right, Jimin was trying to make a statement even if it was reckless since she did it before talking to the chief.

“I hope you can listen to me now without slamming a door closed in my face.” The intern rolled her eyes at the words as she hadn’t given Jimin a chance to speak earlier. It seemed like the perfect opportunity had been created because they were both still dwelling on the fact that their relationship didn’t have to be a secret. “No interrupting either.” Y/n nodded, giving in as Jimin’s thumbs softly caressed the skin of her forearms.

“I don’t even have small remnants of feelings left for her as it never was serious and that was why it ended. It’s always work-related because if you had taken your time to check you would see that she was asking for my work number because of an upcoming operation and while at it she only asked how everything was going in my department and it ended after I replied.”

Feeling stupid was an understatement.

It made Y/n clear her throat and glance away, Jimin trying to find the girl’s pretty eyes because she always liked having eye contact with Y/n. The girl kept avoiding eye contact and it drove Jimin to reach for her jaw and make her look at her.

“See, baby, it wasn’t as serious as you thought it was, but maybe if you had listened to me you would have spared yourself some nerves.” There was that tone that made Y/n’s facade crumble and melt right into Jimin.

“Okay…Maybe I did react a bit quick, but you don’t expect your girlfriend to text with their ex and so it just came with a shock with no time to think.” Y/n tried to explain, doing her best not to melt into a puddle right away and hold herself a bit longer even if the ice was melting because of the warmth of Jimin.

“And I’m sorry, I should’ve said something sooner.” It made Y/n lean in, Jimin moving her hands to hold the girl's waist. Their lips met after a long day of itching to ease the loss of not being against each other. It was a simple kiss, coated in honey as Jimin held onto the girl’s waist.

“I forgive you,” Y/n mumbled and tried to kiss her again, but was stopped as the doctor turned her body and Y/n watched her reach over by the pillow. She chuckled at what she had missed when she got dragged into Jimin’s lap and the doctor turned back around.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Jimin knew that it wasn’t much, yet the smile on Y/n’s plump lips let her know that it was more than enough when she accepted the brown fuzzy bear that was hugging a rose. The girl took it with both hands as she looked at the bear. Considering how busy they were, she knew that even getting a hold of a teddy bear was a great task and it only meant so much more to the girl.

“I also have another line for you.”

“Yeah?” Y/n questioned and Jimin nodded.

“There are three layers of the heart wall, you have broken down each of them and gotten to the middle in a way no one else ever has–” This time the words were deeper, they weren’t just some cheesy pickup line, but a confession that was growing deeper than love. It let Y/n know that Jimin loved her but did more than just love her, she trusted her as she had opened her heart to her. It wasn’t easy, especially because of how they barely had lives outside the hospital, but yet here they were, making it work.

“You seriously have, doll.”

“I love you so much.” Y/n groaned and wrapped her arms around Jimin’s shoulders before attaching their lips again. This time the kiss picked up gradually when their lips parted and their tongues met in warmth and slickness. The doctor pushed her tongue against Y/n’s, pressing and tilting her head to get closer.

With ease, she manoeuvred them around and laid Y/n down on the bed who dropped the bear right beside her head as Jimin got between her legs. Their breathing grew deeper in the small on-call room, slowly heating it as the small ventilation wasn’t enough to cool the heat their bodies produced when they were with each other. Especially when they were so close.

“I love you.” She barely managed to breathe out between their desperate breaths as she bunched up the pillow case in her fists. Y/n hummed, catching Jimin’s lips again, her legs wrapped around the woman’s waist, pulling her closer, close enough to feel her cock slowly growing hard against her heat. It was enough to make her groan and push closer into Y/n, her hips started to gyrate to get the much-needed friction that they both craved.

“Fuck, Y/n—” She breathed out, the girl under her tugged onto the scrubs so she would remove them. The moment of passion only grew a fire that got bigger with each passing second of the shared intimacy. That moment when their hearts beat in sync and yearn for the other so much that it’s hard to hold back. “You want my cock, don’t you…My good girl, my good slut wants my cock.” She breathed out, lips dragging over the intern's skin as she kissed down her jaw.

It did not matter, Jimin always did a 180 in the bed and wasn’t just that sweet heart doctor, but someone who made Y/n’s thighs tremble and beg for more with some sweetness to her.

“So bad, I want to be filled by you.”

“I will fill you, fill you with my cock and ‘dump all my cum inside you. You like that don’t you?”

Her kisses trailed lower to Y/n’s neck, the kisses wet and tender, her teeth dragged along and she wrapped her lips around the thin skin. She could feel Y/n’s heavy pulse on her tongue as she gently sucked with her hard dick fully pressed against Y/n’s cunt. The girl under her pushed more into her, being able to feel the prominent bulge of Jimin’s cock right against her throbbing heat.

“I love it, I love every inch of you inside me and on me.” Y/n breathed out beside her ear, hands pulling Jimin’s navy blue shirt up along her back. She pulled away, sitting on her knees to take them off together with the one she had under, throwing them on the side of the bed. The younger sat up, the doctor not waiting as she grabbed the hem of Y/n’s light blue shirt and let it mix in with hers on the side.

Her hand reached into Y/n’s hair from behind and she gripped it, pulling the girl back to meet her eyes. The grip stung, Jimin pulling on Y/n’s silky strands of hair like she always liked to do and Y/n enjoyed. Her eyes landed on those glossy with passion and love eyes, she trailed down to her wet lips and she leaned back in, wanting Y/n’s tongue against hers.

The vixen kissed back, Jimin’s figure towered over her and her hand cupped her girlfriend through the blue scrubs where her cock was straining. It made the latter huff through her nose and close her eyes tighter while pushing her tongue against Y/n’s. The scalding cock was fully erect, making Y/n tug down on the pants to the second layer that were the boxer briefs.

“Touch it, touch every inch you want inside your slutty little pussy, Y/n, it’s all for you.” Her words were clouded, deep with the moment as Y/n’s fingers ghosted over the outline until she reached the tip that was leaking right through the grey boxers, leaving them stained with pre-cum. Y/n’s lips were left parted, panting against Jimin’s as they moved before she swallowed her whole again. She palmed the hard cock, feeling each inch that would be inside her.

Jimin let go of her hair and reached behind her, doing a quick job at swiftly undoing the bra. Y/n let it fall down her shoulders, and the latter sat back on her heels, eyes falling on the breasts that perfectly fit in her hands as she cupped one of them. The vixen let out a light moan, enough to make Jimin’s dick twitch at the sound. It made her grab Y/n’s petite waist to pull her into her and lean down, her mouth latching onto the plump breast as she held onto the girl who was back in her lap as she sat back.

Y/n pressed down her heat against Jimin’s, hips slowly moving with hands gripping onto the dark hair with the warm tongue coating her chest in saliva. It made Jimin whimper just like Y/n did, her cunt pressing down hard against the throbbing cock under her aching cunt when the doctor grazed her teeth over the hard nipple, gently tugging.

“You’re my pretty whore, Y/n. Just mine.” If there was one thing she liked to do it was to remind Y/n of who exactly she belonged to. Her lips wrapped around the soft and warm flesh, sucking on it to leave her marks. It made Y/n moan, nails digging into Jimin’s shoulders and back to her shoulder blades as the girl wanted her closer, chest pressing into the teasing mouth that played with her nipples and marked her breast.

Jimin hummed, it came from the back of her throat and her grip tightened on Y/n’s waist with fingers digging into her skin as she tried to get her even closer. She loved wrapping her arms around the small waist or having her hands on it, pulling on Y/n like a doll. She helped her grind down against her hard cock, Y/n whimpering right by her ear as her clit pressed right against her tip with each stroke.

The younger could feel how damp her underwear was, her clit throbbed for Jimin’s touch, wanting nothing more than to be stretched out and have her girlfriend fuck her right into the bed. The wet sounds of Jimin’s mouth latching at her breast occupied the room together with their heavy breaths, the faint buzzing of the ventilation dead. One hand let go of her waist, the other still guiding her to continue grinding against the cock.

It made Y/n close her eyes when the doctor cupped her breast, her mouth still sucking on her skin. Thumb grazed over her nipple before Jimin moved and groped at her chest, feeling up Y/n’s body because she loved nothing more than exploring every inch before fucking her. It didn’t matter if her cock felt like it would explode. She tugged on the nipples, gently nipping and twisting, it was enough to make Y/n squirm and whine, unsure if she wanted more or if it was too much.

“Jimin–” She breathed out, the latter trailed her hand down from her waist and harshly groped at her ass. All she got in return was a grainy hum, too busy with the small chest that she enjoyed playing with so much. “I need your cock.” Y/n pleaded as it wasn’t a want anymore, but a need. Her walls were clenching, waiting for that familiar stretch that would fill her to the brim and her grinding only got sloppier and harsher from how desperate she grew for her.

It was only then that she pulled away from Y/n’s chest, her lips swollen and wet. Her eyes fell on Y/n’s, seeing all the need in them, she could feel it from the way the girl was pressing against her, thighs squeezing, but nothing was happening. Y/n heaved at the intensity, Jimin’s hand coming right up to her throat as she grabbed hold of her and pulled her closer.

She could feel the thudding pulse under her fingertips, her parted lips brushed against Y/n’s parted ones. It made her lean back when the vixen tried to kiss her, it tugged at the corner of her lips at how much she needed her. To see Y/n need her this much turned her on further and her cock was aching to push right inside the confines of Y/n’s snug and warm pussy.

“Are you all wet and ready for me? Will you be able to take everything at once? I can only fuck my whore once she knows she will take everything without complaining.” The husk made Y/n’s skin crawl with warmth, thighs clenching as she was wet enough to take every inch. She didn’t have time to think it through because her lips spoke before her brain thought in these moments of intimacy where all she could think with was her heart that in the end made the best decisions when it came to her love life.

She was with Jimin in the end.

With a hand still wrapped around her throat, Y/n’s hand reached for the other one that was gently kneading her breast. Jimin smiled as Y/n grabbed her wrist and she let the younger guide her hand. “I get so wet every time you touch me.” Y/n breathed out, guiding the hand past the hem of her scrubs before Jimin slipped it further down with Y/n’s nails dragging along her forearm.

It made the intern's breath subtly shudder at the fingers that ran over the damp underwear. “My pretty doll, so wet for me.” Her fingers teased, gently rubbing over the material, making Y/n buck her hips and hold back on the desperate whines when she pressed down on her clit. It was aching, throbbing with pain from how badly she needed it. Jimin leaned in, gently kissing the girl’s jaw while she slowly pulled the material of the girl’s underwear aside.

Her fingers found their way to Y/n’s wet folds, the slick smeared as she ran her fingers through them, only pulling away from her jaw to look at the expressions that Y/n made. The fingers ran through the sensitive and swollen lips, gathering the slick, coming down to circle her leaking hole and greedily taking more to create a bigger mess because Jimin enjoyed making her a mess. All the while Y/n let out faint shaky breaths through her lips, hands gripping harder onto Jimin’s shoulders, hips trying to push into her fingers as she circled her swollen clit, slowly playing with the bud that was so sensitive.

“You sound so pretty for me,” she mumbled, eyes set on Y/n’s face whose eyebrows furrowed and a gasp fell from her plump lips at the speed that increased on her clit. Jimin hummed, the smile not leaving her lips as she ran her fingers down once again, this time two slowly pushed inside the greedily clenching hole. She slipped into the wet tightness of Y/n’s pussy, the girl feeling the slow stretch that was getting closer to satisfying, but she still needed more.

Her hips moved against the fingers that were knuckles deep inside her, looking for friction on her clit from the pad of Jimin’s palm. A whimper fell from her lips, this time louder than last time when the doctor gave in to the need and pressed her palm against the clit while curling her fingers. That spot that made Y/n squirm was right under her control because she had learned her girlfriend's body to every inch.

“Are you going to fuck yourself on my fingers? Such a desperate whore that she fucks herself on my hand. Thought you wanted cock to fill your cunt.” She chuckled as Y/n leaned forward, her lips by Jimin’s ear, her hips still moving against the fingers that slowly scissored inside her to stretch her out.

“I do–I want your cock to fill me.” She breathed out, her words humid against the woman’s ear who left a kiss on her jaw. Jimin could wait, but only so long, and hearing how needy Y/n’s whiny voice was she wasn’t going to wait longer to bury her cock inside the girl. They were playing with time in the end as they could get paged any second.

There was a loss of contact when the fingers that were deep inside her throbbing pussy pulled out. Y/n pulled back, a docile look in her eyes to plead even more while watching Jimin take the slick-covered fingers between her lips and suck them right in. The taste lingered on her tongue as she licked her fingers clean off of Y/n’s wetness that she loved. Her hand rubbed Y/n’s waist as she did so.

“Be a good whore and get naked for me, doll.” Her tone was calm yet demanding and Y/n wasn’t one to disobey the older one. She got off of Jimin’s lap and the older watched the girl strip out of her bottoms, her hand running along her length through her boxer briefs. Her cock was throbbing under her palm and her breathing got deeper as she squeezed her length at the sight of Y/n fully naked now.

With a rushed and harsh grip, she manhandled the girl’s lithe and light figure that she liked the best when she was dressed in her birthday suit. It made Y/n quietly whine at the rough yet arousing treatment as she was pushed onto her knees, forearms resting against the mattress as Jimin got behind her.

“Such a pretty face and pussy.” The doctor grumbled as she pushed down her boxers and freed her throbbing cock, the pinkish tip leaked with precum, waiting to release everything into the confines of Y/n’s pink pussy.

The vixen waited in anticipation, her back arched with hands running over her ass, hips and over her spine before going over her waist. The touch was soothing, making her melt at how good it felt to even have Jimin’s skilful hands run over her body. She could make the harshest treatment feel gentle and steady with her hands.

She gripped onto Y/n’s hip, her other hand grabbing at her base and she guided her tip through the wet folds. The feeling made them both shudder as she coated her member in the juices that were leaking, spilling down Y/n’s thighs. As it glistened from the slickness she brought her tip to the girl’s entrance.

“Can I enter you, doll?” Y/n could die right in her spot because Jimin always made sure to ask.

“Yes…” The girl breathed out, feeling the big tip right by her hole and it made her head drop to the pillow when it at last protruded and slowly sank into her, splitting her folds and slowly buried itself deep inside her.

Jimin gripped harder onto Y/n’s waist at the tightness around her cock that sucked her in. Her other hand gently pushed down against the arched back as she tilted her head back and dwelled in the feeling with her lower lip between her teeth.

“You feel so good, your pussy feels so good around my cock.” She mumbled, her chest heaving as she stalled her hips once she was filling her girlfriend to the hilt.

Y/n twisted the sheets in her fists at the stretch and feeling stuffed, she could feel Jimin’s cock everywhere, feeling it all because she was raw inside her. The way the vein throbbed and how hard she was. It was overwhelming the slight pain from how good it felt.

Jimin exhaled sharply through her nose, needing time to get ready herself once she entered Y/n’s cunt to not explode right away from the snugness. She ran her palm along Y/n’s spine until she reached her shoulder and gripped it, holding onto it and her waist before she slowly dragged her hips back.

“I’m going to fuck you good, my needy whore deserves it.” She mumbled under her breath more to herself but Y/n still heard it clearly, eyes still closed and her head leaned back as she almost pulled out fully.

Y/n gasped, writhing under Jimin’s hold when her hips slammed right back inside her, the grip tight on her skin as it was hard enough to leave its marks behind. “Oh, my—fuck.” Y/n choked out as Jimin felt like she had given enough time for both of them to get all ready and her hips started to move, starting slow before she gradually increased the speed of her moving hips.

The cock dragged along Y/n’s squelching walls, hitting the perfect spots as Jimin angled herself perfectly. The slapping of her pelvis against Y/n’s ass grew in the room, each thrust followed by Y/n’s whines, pleas, cries, and whimpering moans, creating the mess she loved to make the intern. Her cock slid effortlessly in and out, going deep and hard, picking up her pace only to slow down with her eyes trained on the way Y/n’s body arched and pushed into her with her vision going blank now and then from the way her eyes would close at the feeling.

The wet slapping bounced off the walls, Jimin completely getting lost and not being able to think about if anything could be heard outside the door and neither did she stop Y/n’s squeals when she drilled deep into her. The slapping grew harder and louder, tainting their skin slightly in the process.

It was burning Y/n’s body, her body moved with each thrust as Jimin went deep and slow before going fast, it was making her mind go blank. The bed squeaked–the on-call rooms used as hook-up rooms for everyone–Y/n was letting out squeaks herself at the pleasure that shot through her with slight pain. It was too much but she didn’t want any less or any more because too much was perfect.

Jimin clenched her jaw, her body getting covered in heat, a sheen of sweat draping over her skin as she huffed through her nose, guttural groans falling from her now and then. Her eyes fell between their conjoined heat, watching the way her cock appeared and disappeared inside the glistening pussy, coming out covered in slick and getting slammed back inside, making Y/n move forward from the force.

“Ah, fuck–” Y/n cried out at a particularly hard thrust making Jimin slow down to not hurt the girl as she knew that she got lost in the pleasure easily when it came to Y/n.

“You’re taking me so well, my little doll to fuck and have squirm under me.” Her hand soothed along Y/n’s waist as her hips rolled deep and slow now. She ran her hand right under and found her way to Y/n’s slim stomach. Jimin pressed down on the girl’s lower belly as she pulled out and slammed right back inside. She could explode just from the way the gesture made Y/n arch her back and let out another high-pitched moan.

The cock kept hitting at her g-spot, feeling Jimin much deeper, knowing exactly where she was because of the hand that pressed against her stomach. The pleasure became tenfold and she was slowly reaching her peak as her ears were muffling everything and she was losing all her coherent thoughts. All she could think about was the cock that was drilling right into her cunt, the way it made her thighs quiver and her vocal cords release any sound they wanted with no control, the way her body was succumbing and losing all touch just for Jimin.

Jimin had other plans as she let go of Y/n’s shoulder and gripped the silky and long hair for leverage instead. Y/n whined at the pleasurable pain that forced her to arch even more and look up from the pillow where her cheek was pressed. There were tears in her eyes when Jimin finally got to look at the girl she got to look in the mirror that was hung up right above the desk in front of the bed's foot.

“Look at me when I fuck you–” It was a demand, not a question that harshly left through the doctor’s lips whose hips were snapping against Y/n. “Fuck I want my whore to look me in the eye, I want to look at your pretty eyes when you cum around my cock, doll face.” She groaned, Y/n obeying her as she watched how Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed, her face contorting into deep pleasure the second she got to look at Y/n’s face which portrayed how good she felt getting nailed into the bed. It boosted Jimin’s ego, letting her know how good she managed to make her girlfriend feel.

She wrapped her fist around the hair, getting more leverage, her stomach flexing and hand running from Y/n’s stomach to the girl’s swollen and throbbing clit. Her eyes trained on Y/n’s face whose eyes rolled and fluttered, the sounds spilling out of her lips. The walls tightly squeezed Jimin’s cock, making her groan at the feeling and in return thrust harder to get anywhere because of how tight the girl was getting the closer she was. Her walls clamped down on her cock with each thrust, hips meeting and getting louder.

“Jimin–Jimin, I’m–” She couldn’t finish the words that were left in a desperate cry.

The heat in her stomach was tingling with the need to be released, snapping out sooner than later as Y/n’s body tensed up. Her vision went black, ears muffled, barely being able to hear how the train of light and whiny moans escaped her lips. The sight of Y/n coming around her, her pussy spasming around her cock, throbbing around it, her eyes rolling, back arching, it all made Jimin fall right off the peak when she reached it. Her breathing grew harsh as it all came over her too.

Y/n felt the tears run down her cheeks, whimpering at the feeling of Jimin’s cock growing harder before the creamy warm cum spilled and painted her walls. She felt each rope shoot right into her cunt, her hearing slowly coming back and being able to hear how Jimin let out light moans with her hips stuttering into Y/n to fill her the best she could, wanting every drop inside the snug pussy. Occasionally tugging on her hair as her body convulsed at the orgasm.

“Fuck, you took it all so well, baby.” She breathed out, her grip loosening on Y/n’s hair, their chests heaving to catch their breaths as a moment of silence fell upon them. Jimin swallowed down the thickness in her throat, blinking her eyes open, slowly pulling out, making Y/n let out a light sigh.

The older helped the girl lay down, treating her like a fragile porcelain doll. With her dick still wet she tucked it back inside her boxers, pulling up the scrubs that were resting around her thighs. She got pulled down right after and managed to fit herself by Y/n’s petite frame on the twin-sized bed.

“Are you alright?” She asked to make sure, her arm wrapping itself around Y/n’s shoulders who hugged at the woman’s waist. Jimin grabbed hold of Y/n’s thigh, pulling it to drape over her torso to have her closer. The doctor twisted and reached behind her with her free hand, pulling out the fuzzy teddy bear with the rose that was under her.

“Yeah.” Y/n mumbled, trying to gather herself as her breathing was still heavy, Jimin’s fingers gently running through her hair this time. Her eyes watched as Jimin held the bear, making it sit on her stomach and face them with her fingers fiddling with the fur.

“Did you know that sex is healthy for the heart? It can bring down the chances of a heart attack by 50%.” Y/n chuckled at the words, burying her face into the crook of the woman’s warm neck who breathed out a chuckle at her own words.

“I love you,” Jimin spoke, craning her neck and leaning down to peck the top of Y/n’s head. It made the girl pull away and looked up at the older woman. She hummed and pushed herself up, still feeling Jimin everywhere and on her lips once again when she leaned down for a slow kiss.

“I love you,” she pulled away for a second as they looked each other in the eye and she pecked the woman’s lips once again before pulling away fully. “This was probably the most romantic Valentine’s Day so far.” Y/n admitted. It was so different yet in a way that was special because so much had happened.

Jimin raised her eyebrows as she pushed herself up to rest against her elbows as she looked at Y/n who reached for her clothes because they still could get paged. “Really?” She questioned, gently bouncing the teddy bear against the mattress from how the words made her feel less worried that it wasn’t enough. It made her feel giddy to know that she succeeded in the end. She watched Y/n put on the scrubs before she sat back on the bed, facing Jimin with her fingers dancing over the doctor's bare stomach, trailing gentle patterns.

“Yeah, I got to operate on a heart with my girlfriend, and we no longer have to pretend to be just coworkers.” Y/n said as her fingers ran up to where Jimin’s heart was, circling the area as she could feel the way it was pounding against her ribcage. It made Jimin grin even more and Y/n leaned back in to kiss her heart doctor.

Maybe Valentine’s Day hadn’t gone bad at all even if they couldn’t go on a date or do something together outside the hospital. Somehow everything they had done today was romantic in its way and there was no need for grand gestures.

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repulsiveliquidation · 4 months ago

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Impatient || Alexia Putellas

warnings : smut, somnophilia (consensual fucking while asleep), cunnilingus, anal fingering, pussy fingering, buttplugs (mentions and usage), strap-on, suggestive language.

summary : Alexia reminisces on the mindblowing fuck you gave her before she left for Paris.

Alexia sighed as she pulled the door closed behind her and locked the master bedroom. Her whole body was tired and desperate for a shower after training with the Spanish team. With the Olympics fast approaching, they were putting in extra effort to really prove themselves as the best team in the world.

Alexia undressed and brought herself to make a little effort in winding down. She lit a candle in the bathroom, turned the lights down low and started a nice, hot bath.

Getting into the warm water melted away all the struggles of the day, bringing comfort to the captain's muscles and bones.

It didn’t take long for her mind to wander, with her eyes closed and the ability to visualize your body, she made herself a nice image in her head to enjoy considering her time spent alone and far from you.

She thought about the last time you two had sex before she left for camp and Paris. It was everything she needed to last the tournament and who’s to blame her for having her waterproof sex toy conveniently charged and in the bath with her when it was some of the best sex she had ever had?

She closed her eyes and let her mind fill in all the gaps in her memory of that life-changing night.

You walked into the apartment expecting your wife to be up and waiting for you like she said she would.

“Ale?” you whisper-shout, hanging your keys up by the door and kicking off your shoes. The hospital called you in for an emergency surgery and you had to leave in the middle of date night the day before Alexia left for Paris. She was used to it, being married to a surgeon and all but it broke her heart a little that on a night before she left for a long while, you had to go.

“Oh darling,” you coo when you see her sleeping on the couch soundly, mouth a little open as she snored. She denied ever snoring but you knew better but kept up with her little secret.

You were about to turn the soap opera she was binging off when you caught a glimpse of her underneath the blanket she had over her middle.

“What the-” you begin as you pull the blanket off and you were not expecting what you saw in front of you.

La Reina was half naked and fell asleep fucking herself on the strap you knew she wanted you to use on her tonight.

“You’re such a fucking whore, Alexia Putellas,” you grin and mutter, leaving her right where she was to get yourself ready for her going away present.

Your scrubs were swapped for a black leather strap-on and some expensive black and red lingerie. You pulled your hair back and walked back into the living room feeling ten times sexier.

The thing with La Reina was, she loved a good challenge. You dared to suggest you made toast faster than she did? She was setting the record straight that very second. You’re sure you drove to her mother’s house in under 30 minutes in Barcelona traffic? She can do 29 minutes.

You knew that if she woke up during this little adventure, she’d be very disappointed with herself. Being the good little wife you are, you were going to make sure she succeeded.

Without disturbing even a hair on her head, you managed to get the toy she had been fucking into herself out of her and strapped to you. You were careful and didn’t wake her, eyes growing darker by the minute as lust took over.

She just looked so peaceful and dainty that a part of you didn’t want to ruin that for her but the idea of her waking up to an empty apartment the day after with panties still soaking wet from her arousal and that familiar pain in her thighs was too good to pass up on.

You’re just about to try and turn her over to fuck her prone bone when the queen begins to fidget in her sleep. She groans and turns over, head tilted to the side.

“It’s like you know I’m here, babygirl,” you growl a little, grabbing her ass to give it the softest knead.

Alexia grunts a little, almost pushing her ass up just a tad. You pull her legs open just enough to slip your fingers along her folds, feeling how wet she was.

There was a little bottle of lube, presumably her travel variation, beside her still open. You slip your fingers into your mouth and taste her, smiling and sighing when you taste her with a little hint of green apple from the lube.

You wet your fingers more, slipping them back into her pussy. You finger her gently, fingertips angled directly into her sweet spot. You notice a sheen of sweat on her skin and the throb of her heartbeat was stronger around your fingers.

“You feel that, don’t you sweetheart?” You whisper, thumb rubbing her asshole just a little. “Look at you, being such a needy whore even when you’re asleep.”

You’re getting giddy yourself, thumb tempted to press right into her ass. You give in and remember her desires to have anything she normally enjoyed done to her even when asleep, you spat a fat glob onto her asshole and pressed your thumb into her.

She gasped and your heart dropped, thinking you woke her up but she merely reacted in her sleep, hips almost pushing back into you.

The wet noises from between her legs were getting louder and louder so you switched your fingers out for your cock swiftly.

Alexia’s lips were ajar, the faintest snores leaving them. They looked a little too empty though.

So you filled them.

Wet fingers slipped right into the crevice and she immediately began to suckle, little whines muffled as you began to fuck her.

She took your cock well on regular occasions but there was something about her body that almost knew she loved being fucked while she was asleep that hightened her senses.

She opened up and took the big silicone appendage a little too easily, her pussy squelching was like music to your ears.

She whined a little more, asshole winking back at you just a little too easily. Your hips don’t slow down, keeping the perfect pace as your eyes scanned the room.

Foot rest? No, just Ollie’s hair.

Under the couch? Hmm, nothing there.

Coffee table? Now we’re talking.

A buttplug.

More specifically, one that had your initials engraved on the end that you had made for Alexia.

This was one of those items that she kept under lock and key, pulling them out only under special circumstances.

I guess tonight was one of them.

“Did you have a whole night planned for us, my darling girl?” You coo, pushing your cock deeper into her now also gaping pussy and putting the plug to the side for now.

Alexia begins to fidget so you slow down a little as she settles, cock buried to the hilt inside her. She whined, drooling onto the cushion a little.

Certain she was asleep again, you speed up and fuck right into her sweet spot. She whimpers as she gets close, pussy gripping tighter around your cock. You suck on your thumb and stick it back into her ass, fingering her backdoor in tandem with your strokes.

Just as she gets close to coming you pull out and turn her onto her back gently, noticing her breath go shallow and her sweat making her a little sticky. You push your cock back in, pressing down on her tummy as you fuck up into her cunt.

You swear you feel the bulge come through her thin skin, hips unable to keep a steady pace to avoid waking her.

You watch her eyes shoot wide open as she cries out your name when she comes, thighs shaking and eyes rolling into her head when you push her deep into overstimulation.

She begs and begs for you to stop but you don’t, knowing that if she really wanted you to, she would use her safe word. When her thighs stop trembling you stop, lips ravaging her neck and chest.

You pull out and push her legs back onto her chest, lips suckled tight onto her messy pussy. You eat her out savagely, two slender fingers pushed deep into her ass.

“AMOR!” She screams, squirming all over the couch as she tries to escape your hold.

She grabs your hair and grinds into your tongue, chest heaving in pleasure as you throw her head first into a second, mind-numbing orgasm.

“J-Joder! Por favor!” she begs before you pull away. Your fingers in her ass don’t slow down.

“Please what, princess?” You tease, thumb gently rubbing her swollen clit.

“Please,” she hiccups, “please let me cum.”

Your other hand slips three fingers into her cunt while the two in her ass make room for a third.

“Do you think you deserve to cum, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Yes please, please let me cum.”

“But you were such an impatient little girl today,” your fingers all slow down, dragging her pleasure out to a speed she did not like one bit.

“Couldn’t even wait for me come home to fuck your brains out, tsk tsk tsk.”

You pull your fingers out and move her to sit between your legs. Your lips sit right by her ear and you’re sure you feel the shiver go down her spine the moment you speak.

“Hold your legs open,” you say and she obeys, “thank you sweetheart.”

“Have you been using this these past few days, sweetpea?”

“Sí, just for you.”

“You love being reminded of who you belong to?”

“Sí, love feeling it inside me at training.”

“If only the girls knew what a fucking slut their captain was, what would they say?”

“Don’t care,” she slurred, feeling the cold plug circle her puffy asshole. “Only want to be good for you.”

“You’re a good girl?” You tease, pressing the toy into her.

“Ye-” she tenses, feeling the cold metal push into her, “yes, yours!”

The widest part of the plug sat inside her, the slight stretch was a welcome pain.

“My what?”

”Your good girl!”

You push the plug right into her and fill her pussy with your fingers to push her towards her second orgasm.

She squirts a little when she comes, literally melting into you when she does. You coo and hold her through it, watching as her chest and legs tremble beautifully. She tilts her head up and you kiss passionately, wet fingers holding her face close.

“I love you,” Alexia pants, fingers slipping past her cunt to pull the plug that sat inside her out in the bathtub. She grinned and placed it to the side to deal with later.

She calls you right from the bath, iPad propped up on a bench near the tub, wishing you were there to enjoy the hot bath with her. Or fuck her silly, she can’t decide.

“Hi baby,” you greet, smiling at her through the screen.

“Hola amor, how are you?”

“Good darling, training go okay?”

“Sí, it was good. I think we can win.”

“I know you can, amor. I believe in you.”

Alexia accidentally knocked the bench when she tries to turn the volume up on her iPad and the plug falls. It clangs loudly and you definitely hear it.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Alexia turns a deep shade of red in shame, her little secret now not so secret anymore.

“Alexia, you really are a cock-hungry slut, aren’t you?” You tease, watching the captain stutter to defend herself.

“Would you like some help relieving some stress, princess?”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso imagines #woso community #fc barca femeni #woso x reader #woso soccer #bottom alexia #woso smut

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rememberwren · 4 months ago

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A Complete Set (Whatever That Means) || 2

A continuation of Skin Deep. Part one of this sequel is here.

About this: previous warnings apply, oral sex (f receiving), alcohol, gross imperfections, not a single nipple unfortunately, an eyebrow though. For @/moody-alcoholic, I hope this manages to quench even the tiniest portion of your thirst. 1 more part left. 7k

“Simon?”

“Hm.”

“Are you seeing anybody else?”

Simon looks up at you. His hair is getting long, falling over his forehead and looking nearly brunet in the dim lighting. You don’t think he’s cut it since the two of you have started dating.

He’s been drawing for half the night, hunched over with the sketchpad in his lap, doing terrible things to his own posture and blocking his own lighting all at once. When he answers you, it’s in that dry tone that lets you know he thinks you’ve said something funny or clever: “No.”

A knot in your chest loosens. It’s hard to believe you worried over such a question for so long just to receive such a simple, earnest answer. He goes back to sketching.

You content yourself with this and stretch your legs out until your toes touch his thigh at the other end of the sofa. His mouth twitches, but he keeps working.

Six months pass, and how do you celebrate? You climb topless onto Simon’s lap, eager and anxious in equal measure. Your nipple piercing had stopped hurting months ago (save for the time you had snagged it on a cable knit sweater and nearly seen Jesus), but you had read online that piercings heal from the outside inward, and as such you had made every attempt possible to leave the thing alone even when all you wanted to do was play with it.

In his own way of celebrating, Simon had bought you your first new barbell: a black one with black gemmed studs at each end. You couldn’t help but notice that it looked similar to his, only with a more delicate, feminine touch.

“Will you change it for me?” you ask him. Your hands are shaking.

“Alright. Let me wash my hands.” He shifts you off of his lap and disappears into the bathroom where you hear the faucet turn on. You cross your arms over your breasts, feeling silly being half naked without Simon in the room. Your foot bounces impatiently, but you know that if cleanliness were a love language, it would likely be Simon’s.

Not that he had told you he loved you—nor had you told him. You had promised yourself that you would wait until he said it first (the only sure-fire way to avoid coming across as overeager and scaring him off). Still, there were a thousand ways in a day that Simon made you feel as if he loved you: the way he would go out to start your car in the wintery mornings when your remote start stopped working; the way he always offered you the first bite of his food if you weren’t sharing a meal; the way he’d crack open your drinks before handing them to you. Was it wrong of you to try to read between the lines?

Simon comes back and tugs you onto his lap again. His hands look huge compared to the jewelry through your breast as he dexterously works the ball free from the barbell. He has the hands of a surgeon: steady and calm. You close your eyes in anticipation of pain, but there is none; it just feels alien, sensitive whenever his calloused fingers brush over your pebbled nipple, even as he removes the barbell itself.

Taking the sanitized jewelry, he carefully puts it in and screws the stud in place.

“That didn’t hurt at all,” you say, reaching down to tug softly on the barbell. Still, no pain.

“Great,” he says, eyes on your breasts. He grips your hips. “Up, now. C’mon, up.”

He tugs you up onto your knees so that you’re the perfect height for him to take your nipple into his burning mouth. You shiver, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other burying itself in his hair, gripping softly to keep his mouth in place. If you had worried that getting the piercing would make you less sensitive, you were wrong. He tugs on the jewelry gently with his fucking teeth and God, holy shit, fucking hell, definitely not less sensitive.

“Been waiting to do this,” he says, nuzzling the skin between your breasts as he gives you a moment to catch your breath. “Six months of hell.”

“Yeah?” You pant lamely, chest heaving.

He hums. His thumbs stroke beneath your breasts along the sternum tattoo he gave you—a favorite part of you for him to touch—as his lips find your nipple again, lashing softly with his tongue. His hands have begun to tremble where they slide down the curves of your sides and to your hips, touch soft and worshipful as he brings you down to rest your weight against the hard line of his cock still confined in his jeans. The shaking says more than a thousand of his words ever could.

“I want you,” he mutters. “Say yes.”

“Yes, God, yes.”

Simon guides you off of his lap, kneeling down into the space between the couch and the coffee table. He pushes the table backwards with a little more force than is necessary when there isn’t enough room for his long legs and accidentally sends a cup full of charcoal pencils tipping over onto the carpet. You snort with laughter. He peels your leggings and panties off and drags you to the edge of the couch, pressing your thighs open wide.

Getting head from partners in the past had been a fraught, mostly unenjoyable experience. Even your first few times with Simon had been tense, with him quickly moving on to something else after noticing your inability to relax. A less eager man might have counted his blessings and moved on, but Simon’s gentle persistence had gone a long way toward reassuring you that he truly wanted to please you this way. It had gone a long way toward reassuring you that you could let him.

He spreads you apart, thumbs slipping against your slick folds, heated gaze pinpointed on your most intimate parts before he leans in and licks a broad stripe over your entrance and up to your clit. You shut your eyes (and cover your face for good measure). His warm breath fans against your pussy as he laughs. He could be mean and pull your hands away, but he lets you hide this way and you are grateful for it.

Simon takes his time mapping each part of you with his mouth, nose brushing your clit whenever he doesn’t have his lips sealed over it. Your thighs shake, toes curled, as he pulls whines and choked gasps from your throat.

You peek through your fingers when you feel him shifting beneath you to find that he’s worked his cock from his jeans and is jerking off, only noticeable by the tell-tale rhythmic motion of his arm against your calf.

“Jesus, Simon,” you whine.

He makes a little sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, shifting on his knees to change the angle of his mouth against you. Something about him so unashamedly enjoying himself makes it easier for you to enjoy yourself too, to let your hands come away from your face and thread them through his hair.

“Can we fuck?” you breathe, aching inside deep where his tongue can’t reach.

He nods against you and kneels up to kiss you. You still aren’t used to the taste of yourself in his mouth, but it’s growing less foreign—and nothing could ever make you turn away from one of Simon’s kisses.

He pulls you off the couch onto your knees, his legs spread to either side of your own. You arch your back, feeling his cock brush against the back of your thighs. Two of his thick fingers slip inside you, testing your give and your wetness. He twists them; turns to hook them against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you that makes your legs shake. Simon works a third finger into you, a stretch that your body struggled to take before but which it accepts eagerly now, the sting welcome and familiar.

“Fuck. I need a condom,” he rasps.

“Just pull out,” you say.

You can sense him rolling his eyes. Your fondness for the (dangerous) pull-out method had been formally noted by him and thus far rejected at every turn.

“Don’t insult me,” he mutters. He grabs your hand and guides it between your own legs. “Be good and keep yourself warm. I’ll be right back.”

He’s barely gone long enough for you to stroke your fingers through your folds, but when he returns (flashing the intact condom package at you like he always does), he watches you for an endless, lingering moment.

“I like that,” he says at last, taking his spot behind you again, condom in place.

“Like what?”

“Watching you touch yourself.” The head of his cock nudges your entrance. He finds the right angle and slips inside you, stretching your walls to make room for himself. You groan, your fingers digging into the couch cushion. It stings a little, right towards the end, but he just softly saws himself in and out of your pussy, soothing the ache with pleasure. His words go completely over your head.

He reaches so deep inside you, like with his every thrust his cock bullies the air out of your lungs. The slick sounds are lewd, keeping time with your moans and sighs as his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, manhandling you further onto the couch to the perfect height for him to fuck into you, your knees barely skimming the carpet.

Your hand ends up crushed between your pelvis and the couch. You let your fingers find your clit and the touch reminds your body of how close it is, that coil deep in your belly stretched tight and ready to release. Your fingers trail down to where his cock pistons in and out of you, and at your touch he groans, slows to a smooth drag, his length slippery with your own arousal.

“Touch yourself, not me,” he chides, his voice rough. “I’m close enough.”

“I’m close enough,” you say.

He flops against your back, nearly crushing you with his weight to hook his chin over your shoulder and ask: “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

You can barely draw in the breath to laugh, and it’s only worse when you cum. You bury your face into the couch cushions, giggling, fingers rubbing a gentle, hectic rhythm against your clit as your pussy spasms around him. He snorts at your laughter, a soft quiet exhale against the back of your neck. Then he cums, his thrusts sloppy and hard, turning his head at the last moment to bite your shoulder lazily.

“Sex makes you so weird,” you pant. Your face hurts from smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He ties off the condom and throws it away. The two of you sit naked on the couch together, curled up. It’s a little alien to be this open about your body with someone and to have them be so open about their body in return, but it’s a good strangeness. So much about loving Simon is.

“I need to get the other one pierced now,” you mention, toying with his unpierced nipple. “Have to complete the set.”

“I never did.”

“You’re incomplete. Don’t you know?”

He snorts. “I feel quite fulfilled, thanks.”

“Please Simon?” you ask. “I want to.”

“Don’t ever say please. I’ll text Soap in the morning,” Simon says, trailing his fingers up and down the length of your arm, making goosebumps appear.

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you’d been thinking about for the last several months? Would it offend him to know that you didn’t want to go to Johnny for any more piercings?

Whether it offended him or not, your pride couldn’t rest easily going back to the tiny room behind the curtain in Skin Deep. While there had been only a few other tense interactions between you and Johnny since Simon’s birthday (and usually he seemed to favor outright ignoring your existence), the situation had not improved.

“Simon—I think I’d rather go somewhere else for my other nipple. To someone other than Johnny, I mean.”

Simon frowns. “What’d Johnny do.”

He phrases it like that—more of a statement and less of a question, immediately assuming that Johnny is at fault.

“It’s just—it’s like I said on your birthday. He doesn’t like me much.”

Simon turns to look you in the eye. When your gaze tries to skirt away, he lets out an irritated breath through his nose—but doesn’t fight you. Simon always lets you run. Maybe because he knows his legs are long enough to catch you. “You really feel like that?”

“You’ve never noticed?”

“Thought it was in my head,” he mutters. Then he says the most dreaded words he possibly could: “I’ll talk to him.”

“No!” you nearly shout. You struggle to lower your voice to something more appropriate for indoors, your heart tap-dancing to an anxious beat inside your chest. Just trying to picture Johnny’s irritated expression at any of Simon’s potential efforts to talk to him made your stomach turn over. “I mean—don’t. Really. It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I need you two to get along. You and Johnny—you’re the most important people in my life,” he says baldly. His honesty does something to your lungs—empties them, crushes them. You only just realize the position that you’re putting Simon in, and it makes you feel about two inches tall. How could you let your petty problems with Johnny potentially get in the way of their longtime friendship? Their brotherhood?

“I’m begging you, Simon,” you plead. “Promise me you won’t talk to him. Just, give me more time to get to know him or something.”

“Can't promise that.” He stands up and stretches, joints popping as you stare at him, your stomach tearing itself to pieces at this knowledge. This is not how this conversation was meant to end. But he disappears into the bedroom before you can gather your wits enough to say another word.

There is nothing like sleeping beside Simon, his arm beneath your head, your body turned and cradled against his side, a leg thrown over his thighs. His heart is as slow and steady as his breaths, his calloused thumb tracing a line back and forth on your naked side, a line which grows slower and slower as he drifts closer to sleep.

You ruin it like this: “Simon?”

“Hm.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If you got’a.”

“On your birthday, you said that women meant for you sometimes ended up being Johnny’s. What did you mean?”

He’s quiet for so long that you mistake him for falling asleep. You’ve resigned yourself to asking him another night when he speaks, his speech is slow and thoughtful, like it is hard to put it into words.

“When Soap and I are in a room together with women, I’m like a ghost. He’s a fucking human being. Flesh and blood. Alive. People want to talk to him, to know him, to laugh with him, to have a drink with him. I’m not like that. I haven’t ever been like that. More than once Johnny would try to get me together with a woman who would end up falling for him instead. Eventually I convinced him to stop trying.”

“Were you jealous?”

He makes an ambiguous sound. “It’s hard to be jealous of Soap.”

“Not impossible, though.”

He rolls you over onto your back, coming to rest over you, your legs a tangled mess beneath the sheets. The darkness lengthens the shadows of his eyes, but you can still feel his gaze, tangible as any touch. He braces himself on his elbows over you and lets his forehead rest against your own. “I just wanted someone who was mine,” he says.

It’s on the tip of your tongue, those words that are building inside of you and growing harder to withhold by the day. But you say it like this and hope he can translate: “I’m yours.”

He ducks his head and kisses you.

In the morning, Simon has slipped a piece of paper just beneath the edge of your mug of tea. When you look at it, written in charcoal pencil is DARCELINA: Dream City Tattoos and Piercings XXX-XXXX.

It’s one for the record books: the rain. Thick pregnant clouds carry more than eight inches of rain to your city in the course of a day. The last time it rained so much was apparently during the Civil War era. The city floods, including the basement of your apartment building, which leads to a building-wide power outage.

Simon has you pack a suitcase, junk the majority of your refrigerator and freezer, and come stay with him. You’re giddy, feeling like it’s a semi-permanent sleepover when he gets the call that Skin Deep has flooded as well.

Then things take a turn for the worse. Simon is gone for nearly 36 hours straight making endless calls to attempt to clear the water and begin repairs, and sometime in the midst of that, the fight with Johnny happens.

It’s an ugly one.

Simon comes home in the foulest mood you’ve ever seen him in. It turns him positively stony as he moves around the apartment making himself a hasty meal, avoiding your eyes every chance he gets. After he eats, he sits heavily on the sofa, pulls out his sketchpad, and trashes no fewer than six entire pages before you get the nerve to ask him what’s wrong.

“Soap,” he mutters, crumpling a paper in one strong, dextrous hand. He throws it toward the small garbage can beside the telly and misses. “He’s looking for other locations to pierce at.”

“Is the building that bad?” you ask. “You guys will have to find a new place?”

“Soap is looking for a new place. One without me.”

You gape, the shock of this news reaching all the way to the core of your being.

“You don’t think it’s because of—?” Me. You can’t even finish the sentence, the thought upsets you so much. You tuck your legs beneath you on the couch, curling up, seeking to become small and harmless as grief and horror wash over you in wave after wave.

“This is my fault. I tried to talk to him but he’s so fucking—he gets under my goddamn skin like he was born to do it.” Simon pauses heavily, before adding: “I need to tell you something about the night Soap pierced me.”

Story time. Alright. You uncurl your legs, choosing to sit with them criss-crossed, your body turned toward him, giving Simon your entire attention. It’s been months since you found out that Johnny had been the one to pierce Simon, but you had been no closer to getting the story from either of them. Your curiosity was a dangerous, corrosive thing, eating away at your insides.

“I’m listening,” you say, hoping you don’t look as eager as you feel.

Simon looks to be at a loss for words, running his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth. When he speaks, it’s hardly the lengthy story you had been anticipating: “We fucked.”

You blink. “You and—Johnny?”

Simon sighs and shrugs a shoulder.

“I didn’t know you were…” Simon stares, waiting for you to finish your sentence. “…interested in men.”

“You are. Why can’t I be?”

You feel a chilly pang of horror, like someone has slipped a dagger between your ribs. You rush to assure him: “You can! You—“

Simon’s mouth twitches as he rubs at the crease of one eye, and your panic fades. He mumbles: “I’m just fucking with you.”

“So you’re bisexual.”

“I’m… I don’t fucking know. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to. I never named it.”

“Okay,” you say gently. “We don’t have to. But what does that have to do with now?”

“The day after we—y’know. Fucked. I told him it was a one time thing. Maybe it’s in my head,” says Simon, frowning. “Maybe I’m crazy. But sometimes he looks at me or says something to me and it makes me think it’s not over. Not for him.”

“Is it really over,” you ask, “for you?”

Simon looks at you, quiet. He says: “I want you.”

And you are so relieved by the obvious honesty in his answer that it never crosses your mind to think that’s not what you asked.

Simon is uptown at a café holding consultations while Johnny directs cleanup efforts at the shop, and you think that now’s the perfect chance.

Your hands shake against the steering wheel the whole drive there, nerves less like butterflies and more like great winged moths in your belly. A part of you says that this is a mistake, you should turn back and let Simon and Johnny work it out on their own. But another part of you feels personally responsible—even if Simon says you aren’t. All your life you have taken things too personally, shouldered burdens which were not your own, bent over backwards to solve problems that weren’t yours to solve. If there was any chance that you could resolve this, you would put your pride on the line to do it.

You park alongside the street and are thrilled to find the front door unlocked. The entire place smells musty, like a basement. The wooden floors have warped a little under your tentative steps, announcing your presence sooner than you’d like.

Johnny sits in the chair where Simon tattoos clients. Sunlight streams in through the blinds and lights him up like some kind of punk-rock angel, his mohawk freshly clipped, dark finger nail polish chipping. Sometime between now and the last time you’ve seen him, he’s pierced his eyebrow: a black barbell with studs that reminds you a little too much of the one through your nipple (and Simon’s. Was that intentional? Did Johnny pick jewelry to match Simon’s? To match yours? For some reason just the thought makes your nipples tighten). In his hands is one of Simon’s sketchpads, and he’s flipping through it leisurely.

He glances up toward the sound of your footsteps.

“If you’re here about the water—“ his words die out on his pierced tongue as he stares at you, gobsmacked by your appearance.

“Hey,” you say lamely.

“Where’s Simon?” he asks, eyes flickering toward the protective spot where Simon usually hovers just over your shoulder. “He said he wouldn’t be in today.”

“He’s not. It’s just me. I thought maybe we could talk.”

Johnny openly grimaces. He shuts Simon’s sketchpad and sets it down (hopefully where he found it). Standing from the chair, he takes a few casual steps away from you, clearly heading towards the curtain that leads to the back of the shop. “Really cannot think of anything we have to talk about.”

You square your shoulders, fighting down that instinctive urge to make yourself smaller, to give in and be manageable. “I think we do.”

“You should go.”

“Not until we work this out.”

“There isn’t any this, alright, just—does Simon even know you’re here?” Something guilty must splash across your face because Johnny gives a mirthless laugh, reaching up to palm at his eyes. “Tha’s great. Just great. Could you be more incriminating?”

“Incriminating—? Look, Simon told me about the night you pierced him.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Johnny says flippantly.

“About how you two slept together.”

Now that stops Johnny in his tracks. It’s clear that he didn’t expect Simon to really tell you about that night all those years ago. He looks at you with a fresh caution, waiting to see how exactly you’ve taken this news—what you plan to do with it. “Aye, then. I guess he did.”

“I’m not trying to take him away from you.”

Johnny makes a derisive sound. His words are well-rehearsed, like he has said them to himself a hundred-hundred times: “Cannot take what isn’t mine.”

“He was your friend first,” you say, aiming for conciliatory and gentle the same way you might approach a feral animal. Johnny stares at you with flat, suspicious eyes. They’re so fucking blue—so different from Simon’s own dark ochre ones. “He told me that you’re one of the most important people in his life.”

Johnny’s face softens. He says: “You shouldn’t tell me that. He wouldn’t.”

“He’s not always good with words. Please don’t leave the shop, Johnny. I think it would break Simon’s heart.”

“I didn’t know he had a heart to break,” Johnny mutters. He leans against the wall beside the curtain and sighs, lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll think about it. Now out. You shouldn’t be breathin’ in this air.”

Johnny ushers you to the door, hand hovering just above your back, careful not to touch you. Once you’re out on the street, he shuts the door and locks it audibly. Then he leans in and huffs a heated breath beneath the “NO WALK INS” sign. In the fog, he adds: “No GFs!”

You flip him off.

He flips you off.

On the way back to your car, you find yourself smiling. You force yourself to scowl. It’s a more appropriate expression. Giving one last glance back toward Skin Deep, you find him still standing there, watching.

Likely just to make sure you’re really leaving.

Not long after you are moved back into your apartment, you find that Simon stops sleeping.

You’re ashamed to say that it takes you a while to notice; nothing changes on your end of things. Anytime you are sleeping over, he lays down with you, tugs you up against his chest, and holds you for ages, his body still and breathing even. But one night you wake to a cool, empty bed. And later in the week, it happens again. Until more often than not you realize that any moment when you expect Simon to be sleeping, he isn’t.

Usually you find him sketching, shadows like charcoal smudged beneath his eyes. He doesn’t meet your gaze and tells you to go back to bed, that he’ll be there soon. Sometimes he even does come to lay back down beside you—but only long enough for you to convince him that you have fallen asleep again. Then he is shifting away from you, disappearing into the other room, shutting the bedroom with the quietest click behind him.

You know that he’s busy. His schedule has been booked—and with deposits nonrefundable, people more often than not kept their appointments. He’s been working with a client on mock ups for a sleeve, and the various pieces and the way they all come together around the contours of the person’s body are very delicate. Johnny’s threat to find a new job doesn’t help, either. Have they talked and resolved things yet? Simon never says so.

You can’t imagine the stress that he is under, and you’d do anything to be able to shoulder a fraction of it for him.

That’s how you end up with drunk Johnny in your car.

It starts with Simon falling asleep before you—for once. You can tell he is well and truly asleep by the sheer weight of his arm over you, the soft snores that he gives out against the nape of your neck. After so many nights of sleeplessness, his body has finally given in. You’re about to slip off to sleep yourself when the buzzing of a phone startles you back into wakefulness.

Not your phone—Simon’s phone. And it goes off again. And again. And again. Who the hell could be sending so many messages at midnight?

You know you should leave it alone—if it was urgent, they would likely call—but curiosity gets the better of you. Carefully you slip out from under Simon’s arm. It’s a testament to his sheer exhaustion that he doesn’t wake as you jostle him. In sleep, he looks painfully young and relaxed, and it makes you long to reach out and brush back his hair that has fallen onto his forehead. But not at the risk of waking him.

Sure that all you are planning to do is shut Simon’s phone off so that he can get some restful sleep, you are surprised to see that Simon has his text notifications visible on the homescreen, so all it takes is a simple tap to open them up.

Johnny. All Johnny.

Ghost.

Ghost

Are you uo?

Up* fuck my fingers

I need a ride home

Simon

I’m at that bar on… The text is cut off. To see more, you would have to open his phone. So Johnny is stuck at some bar, drunk more than likely. Well good riddance, you think to yourself, the hurtful way he treated you still very much fresh in your brain. But then you remember your talk at Skin Deep, and your traitorous heart softens. Could you really just put the phone back now and pretend you hadn’t seen the messages?

Simon doesn’t even have a password; that’s how much he trusts you. Would he still trust you after this, if he knew that you had gone through his phone, even if it was for a good cause?

Making a spur of the moment decision, you could only hope so. Your conscience wouldn’t let you wake Simon, and as much as you disliked him, it couldn’t let you leave Johnny stranded at some bar either.

You open his phone as quickly as you can, swiping so that it goes straight to Johnny’s texts and nowhere else. The name of the bar is right there, and you scramble for your own phone to type it down in Google Maps. He’s not far. Probably would be within walking distance, if he weren’t drunk. You could be there and back before Simon ever knew you were gone—you hoped.

As Simon, you send back to Johnny a simple OMW.

There is no hint of spring in the frigid March air as you slip outside into your car. The parking lot is dim and quiet, and traffic is minimal as you follow the GPS on your phone to Johnny’s location. The pub nightlife spills out onto the pavement and you struggle to find a place to park, grimacing at the knowledge that you will have to get out of the car and go inside to find Johnny, considering you see him nowhere on the street. Leaving the warmth of your car is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, especially in just a thin tank-top and a pair of leggings. Gathering your coat more tightly around yourself, you rush out of the car and through the people on the sidewalk and into the warmth of the pub.

You keep your eyes peeled for Johnny, but can’t spot his silly haircut anywhere. What if he’s gotten a ride home from someone else? What if he’s decided to walk, or found someone to go home with? You shift up onto your toes, looking over everyone in the bar when you spot him in the corner at a table with a few other men.

Johnny doesn’t even recognize you at first—either a testament to how unexpected your sudden appearance is or how drunk he is based on how difficult it is for his eyes to focus on you. When he realizes who you are, his mouth drops. He points.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, accent so thick and slurred that you can barely understand him.

“Picking you up. You said you needed a ride.”

“Aye but not from—oh, Jesus make me still. Yer not wearing a bra, are you?”

All the men at the table turn to gape. You snatch the sides of your jacket closed where they had loosely fallen open, your face flushing with warmth. The table roars with laughter, but Johnny in his drunkenness doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment.

“That was mine!” Johnny shouts, elbowing the man next to him. “Did you see that? That was my work!”

“We get it, bruv,” the guy says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s no ten.”

“What’d you fuckin’ say?”

The table laughs.

Johnny grabs a fistful of the guy’s shirt and drags him nearly clean out of his seat. “I said, What’d you fucking say about her?”

The table stops laughing. Johnny cuts an impressive figure even when drunk; he’s easily the largest guy of the group. Your stomach drops and lands somewhere between your shoes. This is not going to plan at all. Reaching out, you try to insert yourself physically between the two of them but can only wrap your fingers around Johnny’s wrist, feeling the strength poised in the tendons.

“Johnny,” you say, loudly to be heard over the sounds of the pub. “Come on. Let’s go, yeah? Simon…Simon’s out in the car.”

“Simon?” Johnny let’s go of the guy’s shirt, his bad mood evaporating as quickly as it had manifested. He nudges his way out from behind the table, all politeness. Once free, he stumbles into a woman in a slinky dress who gives him a look that could melt glass.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize to her, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist and doing your best to keep him steady. “He’s an idiot, and he’s drunk. You look amazing by the way—“

“Control your boyfriend,” she snaps.

“I will,” you promise, guiding Johnny away from her and into the crowd.

His nose brushes the shell of your ear, breath fanning across your neck as he says with a laugh in his voice: “I’m not yer boyfriend.”

You flush. “Thanks for letting me know, Johnny. I had no clue.”

He says something back, some Scottish phrase, his accent so thick you couldn’t understand the words even if you knew them.

“English, please,” you mutter.

“Je-sus,” he groans, dragging the words out into multiple syllables. He takes your chin in his hand and squeezes your cheeks a little. “You’re just like him. ‘English, MacTavish’. Ha!”

You bat his hand away.

“He’s been rubbing off on you,” Johnny mutters, laughing a little. Beneath his breath (though far more loudly than he likely intends), he adds: “In more ways than one, I imagine.”

Your face goes hot. “Johnny, stop talking.”

The two of you exit the pub out into the cool night air. It seems to sober Johnny some, as he takes in deep, gulping breaths. He walks a little steadier as the two of you cross the street, and by the time you’ve made it to your car, he has shrugged you off altogether (even if he is still a little unstable on his feet). He stands outside the car for a moment before opening one of the rear doors.

“What are you doing?”

“Rather sit back here.”

“I’m not your cabbie.”

“Strange manner of dress if you were,” he says snidely, slipping into the backseat.

In the driver’s seat, you let yourself have a small breakdown. You grip the wheel tightly, taking a few deep breaths of your own, searching for inner peace. You thought that you and Johnny had a tentative truce after that day at Skin Deep, but clearly he is still holding some grudge. Your search for peace turns up empty.

“Sorry I lied about Simon being here. I just really needed you to leave the pub,” you explain politely.

“Knew you were lying,” Johnny says from the darkness of the backseat. He sounds remarkably like Simon: brooding and irritable. “He’s got no idea you’re here, does he? He’d never let you come alone.”

You frown. “No. He doesn’t. He’s sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him.”

“Nightmares?”

“Huh?”

Johnny leans forward. You glance at him in the rear view mirror. “I said, Has he been having more nightmares?”

You didn’t know anything about Simon having nightmares. That sour feeling in your belly was back, the one that made you feel like you would never truly know Simon, not the way his friends did.

“No,” you say, a little defensive. “He’s been working on this sleeve for a client. Staying up way too late to finish it on time.”

“Aye. Nightmares. Anything else is just an excuse he’s telling himself—and you.”

Done with the conversation, you turn the key in the ignition and pull out into the street. “What’s your address?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why’s that?”

“Left my keys at the bar.”

“Goddamnit.”

You turn towards Simon’s apartment. “Then you’re staying with us—with Simon. You can sleep on his couch and get your keys in the morning; I’m sure he won’t care.”

“Are you staying there?”

“Yes.”

Johnny mutters something under his breath. You consider yourself lucky not to have heard it. For a while, the two of you drive in silence. Then Johnny says:

“You never came for your second nipple.”

“It’s only just been six months.”

“So you’re due for an appointment then, aren’t you?”

You steel yourself, gripping the wheel tightly at ten-and-two. “Actually, I’m going to someone else.”

Johnny’s seatbelt unclicks. He hovers at your shoulder bringing with him burning warmth and the scent of whisky. When he talks, his breath brushes your neck, fury tangible in every syllable. “Who is it? Who the hell is he taking you to? Darcelina? Astrid? Dusty? Whoever it is, consider the appointment canceled. No one is piercing you but me.”

“You don’t get that privilege,” you grit out between your teeth. “Not anymore, not after the way you’ve treated me!”

“Oh, did I offend you?” he breathes, clutching one hand at his breast. “Not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on?”

“Fuck you, Soap! I wanted to be friends.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly. Suddenly the road goes blurry. You blink rapidly, forcing yourself to calm down—you’re driving for fuck’s sake. You swallow past the lump in your throat, the silence interrupted by rustling as Johnny leans forward again in the backseat, trying to get a look at your face in the passing streetlights.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans. “Are you crying?”

“No!”

“You are. Fuckin’—pull over, before you get us killed.”

Keen embarrassment only has your eyes watering more, until you have no choice but to do as he asks, pulling over to hastily parallel park and throw on your hazard lights. You let your elbows rest against the steering wheel, face in your hands. His words echo in your head, said in that stupid Scottish brogue: not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on? Are those really the things he thought you wanted? Is that the sort of impression you gave to Johnny, to Ghost’s other friends?

The backseat door opens and Johnny climbs out. A small part of you hopes that he will walk himself home—and good riddance. But he horrifies you by walking all the way around to the driver’s side of the car and tugging on the door handle until you begrudgingly unlock the doors.

“C’mon,” he says, trying to pull you out of the car with your seatbelt still on.

“What’re you—?”

“Just—wouldya—so stubborn—“ he drunkenly leans over you and mashes his fingers against the button of your seatbelt until it releases. For that brief moment, he is a warm weight across your lap, bringing with him the scent of cologne and whisky. Then he pulls you out of the car—and into his arms. It’s a tight, full hug, chest-to-chest, not bone crushing per se, but all-encompassing.

You don’t realize how badly you need it from him until you’re getting it.

“You’re such a dick,” you groan against his shoulder, sniffling.

“Aye,” he says, swaying a little on his feet, like the two of you are dancing. “But I’m right. We cannot be friends. So you’ve got to let this go, alright? Just breathe out 'n let it go.”

“I don’t understand,” you mutter. “He wants us to be friends.”

“He doesn’t know what he wants,'' Johnny says, one hand rubbing gently at your shoulder blades. “No more crying. It’s out of your hands. Aye?”

You shake your head, hands gripping his shirt.

But your tears slow and eventually stop. Cars pass occasionally. One of them honks at the sight of you both entwined on the side of the road, rolls down their window to let their passenger yell something suggestive, and it makes your face go hot. Johnny pulls away, nearly stumbling out into the road to give the car both middle fingers as it peels away. He slips on the damp asphalt and goes down hard on his side, taking the skin off his elbow and palm.

“Fuck, I’m hammered,” he laughs.

“Clearly,” you say, struggling to help him up and into the backseat.

Once in the driver’s seat again, you feel exhausted, emptied, like a washcloth wrung out and left to dry. The drive back to the apartment is silent, and when you’re in the parking lot, neither of you make a move to get out of the car.

You warn Johnny: “Simon’s asleep, so be quiet inside.”

Johnny warns you sleepily: “Ghost is right there.”

There’s a tap on the glass of your window. It nearly makes you shriek—but it is only Simon, half-smoked cigarette in his fingers, bundled up outside the car door. You roll down the window sheepishly.

“Need a little help?” he asks, taking a drag and turning his head so the smoke doesn’t touch you. His eyes are on Johnny in the backseat.

You hold up your fingers with just a smidge of space between them.

#ghoap x reader #skin deep

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lucysarah-c · 6 months ago

Text

Transactional

Summary: When you go to ask Captain Levi for a promotion, it's important to remain humble. Author note: I've had this idea for so long... this had been collecting dust in my computer for SO LONG. Because I wanted it to be hot and dirty like the underground's air but at the same time I was scared that it was a "bit" too much. That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me. Pairing: Levi x fem! reader. Warnings: Top Levi Ackerman, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, MP reader, Levi x MP reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Cigarrettes, Smoking, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Oral sex, DUBCON, Bondage, Breathplay. Word count: 12k words of pure porn. You had been warned lmao HONESTLY, JUST BECAUSE I MANAGED TO EDIT this long ass post in the tumblr editor I DESERVE A LIKE AND A REBLOG (jk... but if you want its not a joke)

The agonizing rubatosis, mixed with the upsetting silence, creates a disconcerting atmosphere. Frowned eyebrows, eyes closed, cold feet rubbing over each other, and itchy underwear contribute to the discomfort. A deep breath in, count to 4, hold it for 7, and exhale slowly, counting to 8. Fists tighten, jaw clenches, and breathing becomes agitated.

‘Should I?’

Shea butter and vanilla penetrate her senses, smoothing legs that perfectly align, having been meticulously shaved. Not a single rough patch of skin, not a single hair, not a single cell left unmoistened. The hair conditioner matched the body lotion, nails painted a deep shade of red. Lips glide smoothly over each other thanks to the reddish gloss, creating a subtle plumping effect. The darkness enveloped her; hair spread on the pillow, eyelashes curved and painted a deep shade of black, with mascara perfectly in place. Blushed cheeks, radiant skin, softly glittering eyes, enhanced with brown pencil. Self-performed surgeon work, like an architect drawing up plans.

Reflective, slightly darker lips create the illusion of being kissed. Rosy cheeks mimic arousal. Uncomfortable underwear, but a perfect frame for her body. Subtly enhanced eyes for a pleasing view from the top. Everything is calculated, makeup that doesn’t look like makeup, intentionally tousled hair. She couldn’t recall the last time she put this much effort into her appearance for someone else. Usually, she dressed up for herself or her friends. A guy? Never, as far as she could remember.

All the to-do list’s lines had been checked except for one. The last item on her mental list was ‘Do you dare?’

Did she, though? Did she dare to slide her bare, smooth legs across the sheets, touch the cold floor, sneak through the corridors, slip inside through the creaked door, wait in the gloom with only one candle at the kitchen during late hours, hoping the collected info was real, and perhaps, only perhaps, see him appear through the door?

The place was ridiculously silent; she could hear her own feet against each other, her nervous tapping nails. Scouts followed rules, always doing what they were told, unlike the MPs. Even in the deep of night, you could hear everything—people making deals, cadets sneaking out, higher-ups taking cadets for personal parties. It was as if, the moment curfew started, another world began. Mixing that with the streets of the capital that never slept, the constant babble in the background. However, that wasn’t the scouts’ reality, and maybe that’s why she hated sleeping there so much. Somehow, she had gotten used to the sleepwalker city, and its ceaseless mutter became her lullaby.

After the retake of Wall Maria, after the coronation of the new queen Historia, life inside the walls changed drastically, especially in the military. New uniforms, universally appreciated in black, and the roles within the military became more ambiguous. MPs were still MPs, but they also contributed to the advances of new constructions, the displacement of new citizens to the reclaimed lands, and everyone learned how to use the new anti-person 3DMG.

Life was improving, or so many decided to believe. The scouts, almost eradicated after they took Wall Maria, saw an increase in their ranks. Transfers happened more than ever, and their salaries went from being the worst to the personal favourite military brand of the queen. Promotions were granted based on performance, sacrifice, and meritocracy—a notion she found irritatingly noble. Out of pettiness, boredom, or perhaps jealousy.

Extra-curricular activities? Even before she graduated from the trainee lines, she was in the top ten of her class, with excellent behaviour and military antecedents. Reports from citizens praised her attention and willingness to help. Double-checking almost everything. Therefore, explain why she had been rejected for a promotion so many times in the last years. The simple answer: anything in the MPs was about contacts and money, even as life inside the walls changed.

There was always an excuse—someone else deserved it better, a son of someone else got a spot that was rightfully hers, a green cadet got it simply because he was a man, and she clearly wasn’t. She wouldn’t lie and say that her desire to join the scouts had always been there. As a single daughter of a single mother, her wishes had always been to provide for her, to help her around. The day she could make her old mother stop working with her MP’s salary had been her happiest day.

Discussing it with her friend as they delivered provisions to the lines working on the train’s rails, not seeking help, but rather complaining in confidentiality. Concentrated so deeply in her venting that she didn’t notice how her friend remained quiet for a split second and then interrupted her with a cheerful smirk.

“Captain Levi just checked your ass.”

It caught her off guard, involuntarily making her want to check. “DON’T TURN!” her friend almost screamed. The idea felt bizarre, not because she wasn’t confident in her looks—she was hot as hell, and nobody could tell her otherwise. But… Captain Levi? From the Special Operation Squad? THE Captain Levi who had led the Uprising? Humanity’s Strongest Soldier? … That Captain Levi? Then, she gave it a second thought, slightly shaking her head.

“You must have imagined it,” she said.

“I SWEAR, you bent, and he checked you,”

“But… Captain Levi is?”

“Short?”

“No, you idiot. I mean yes, but not what I’m trying to say,” she corrected herself. “He just… I’ve never even heard about him with any girl, anyone to be more precise.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” her friend said, grabbing a box and starting to walk away, “but I know what I saw.”

Superiors and higher ranks checking her out, catcalling, perhaps even touching without permission? UFF, the military was full of them, even when she was much younger. However, Captain Levi could be an antisocial, stoic little jerk, but it had never struck her as those types of men. Always so uptight, correct, stoic, disinterested. There was a rumour circulating that perhaps… and only perhaps, he wasn’t particularly fond of women. A few female soldiers had tried to show their interest during military hangouts, and none of them had been successful. Considering military men’s pent-up frustration, that was very odd behaviour.

If there’s a rumour that spreads faster than what happens in someone’s sheets, it’s the lack of activity in those sheets. Captain Levi seemed to be on the other spectrum of the rumours. He definitely wasn’t a womanizer, and if he was one, what a smooth criminal he was. Not a single victim had been known.

“You know what would give you that promotion?” The administrative higher-up enlightened her after another unsuccessful raise in her salary. Her resentful eyes admired the boy, easily seven years younger than her, getting a spot because his father was a military member too. Her tired stare moved slowly back to her front, silently waiting for the pointless information to be given to her. A better cover letter? CV? Extra hours? Non-paid internships in other divisions? What?

“A recommendation from someone important.”

The red lips of the administrative staff moved slowly. If Y/N squinted a bit, she would have been able to hear the indirect suggestion. Between women, softly getting closer so the secretary could whisper without being heard. Glasses pushed down the nose bridge, and Y/N drew closer to hear the secret.

“You know, the scouts are making a big impact around here lately. Think about it.”

The words accumulate on her throat; her lips trembled, but nothing aside from indecipherable sounds left her mouth, frowning slightly at the idea.

“Think about it,” the woman repeated. “You won’t be the first girl, dear, and I guarantee you won’t be the last one.”

The wisdom that came with age and serving the military's paperwork for so many years must have given the woman enough knowledge to suggest it so plainly. What she hated the most? She had been considering it badly; she needed the money; she wanted the promotion. What was the difference between some stupid daddy's boy licking the boots of his higher-up for the position than this?

The boldest side of her mind insisted that she had slept with ex-boyfriends who were less attractive, less influential, and definitely less clean than Captain Levi. Yes, Captain Levi, because if she was doing this, she was going big or going home. Not some random newly promoted squad leader or anything. Those were the other options at the scout after they got almost eradicated—purely freshly adults. Her mind tried to convince herself of an easier target, like Jean perhaps, but she gagged at the idea. ‘He’s a baby, barely 18.’

For a split second, she wished Commander Erwin was alive. Never met him; she hadn’t even talked to him, but the blond seemed like an easier target somehow. Was it because people had talked about a chick or two that he took to his hotel’s room after parties? Maybe.

‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ pondering around the idea, like a friend encouraging you to confess to the boy you have a crush on. “You already got the no, go for the yes!” they would say, but this wasn’t silly girlish crushes.

‘That he says no and thinks of you as some cheap-ass whore.’

No, this wasn’t a crush. It was plain transactional.

‘Well… not like Captain Levi had ever looked over to me as if he had me in any sort of high esteem to begin with.’

Back to the beginning. They had ordered her to help around the Scout’s facilities as they developed the new train station around Paradise, and as soon as those orders had reached her ears, the plan was rolling. ‘Now… or never.’

Battle dress on: short loose shorts, a loose shirt that barely covered her belly, and her fanciest lingerie underneath. Captain Levi always made himself a cup of tea late at night to carry on with paperwork. Her military’s trajectory to secure the objective was: leave her bed, go there, and hope that her glossy lips and glittery eyes would do the trick. This was far from what she was used to, and what had boosted her confidence earlier that day to get ready had easily dripped away. Leaving her tied up to her bed as an external force that incapacitated her from doing it.

‘He’s not your higher-up; he can’t fire you directly.’

‘But what if he does?’

‘He’s probably small and will last a couple of minutes with luck; it’s easy as cake.’

‘What if he tells someone?’

‘You got nothing to lose and a lot to win.’

‘Everybody does something to scale in the MPs; no amount of extra work and good behaviours would get you anywhere. Think about what you could buy with that promotion.’

Tiptoes on the ground, a deep sigh, hands on the edge of the mattress pushing her up, calculated steps on the wood planks that didn’t squeak, palm against the edge of the door to close it without making a sound, single candle in her grip waiting for her to reach the kitchen to turn it on, non-existing hairs raising on her legs due to the coldness of the halls, curious eyes checking over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, candle on, kettle on the fire, speech ready.

‘Now… are you going to show up, Captain?’

The flame of the candle flickered in the night air. She had heated the water multiple times, taking the kettle off the stove before it boiled, resting it on the countertop, and once it cooled, returning it to the fire. The script had been prepared, written, and practiced in her mind. However, the main participant in this story, her co-star, had not made his triumphant appearance.

First, she waited in a poised position, then faced the door while resting her weight on the countertops. After an hour and a half, the cold had crept up on her, fighting and winning against the burning heat of the nerves, leaving her shivering. Bent over the countertops with her eyes fixed on the kettle, she seemed disinterested, disappointed, and tired.

Her hand covered her mouth in a loud yawn. Once the anxiety had subsided, tiredness set in—slow blinks, head buried between her arms on the table, eyes still fixed on the kettle. It was right there, on the fire, still with time to boil. "You're going to burn the whole place down," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

That snapped her back from her reverie. It was evident that her mind had conjured a realistic dream because the kettle she was supposed to be watching had been removed from the fire, with a cloth covering the handle, and placed on the countertop, far from her reach to prevent burns. Steam billowed loudly from it, whistling in the stillness of the night.

Standing up, she froze in place, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to process what she was witnessing. The first few buttons of his grey shirt were undone, and he wore black trousers of the uniform, but no boots. Although his slippers didn't match the scene, his exhaustion was unmistakable. There he stood, as stoic and unfriendly as ever: Captain Levi, with rolled-up sleeves, removing the kettle from the fire and clicking his tongue as he turned off the gas.

Facing away from her, he seemed as indifferent as if she were just another countertop in the kitchen. Her nails softly scraped her arms as she pondered whether to press further, take the hint, or if she was simply cold, hence why she ran her hands up and down her arms. The muscles of his back contracted and moved, the V-shaped shadow down his spine emphasized his broad shoulders and defined waist. His rolled-up sleeves made her admire his porcelain skin, catching the light in particular shapes as some of his forearm hair shimmered under the candlelight.

While the slippers detracted slightly from the uniform, diminishing the powerful feeling, she had to admit, upon deeper thought, that the tight black trousers of his new uniform were incredibly appealing. Despite his short stature, Captain Levi was a fine specimen of a man. The subtle notion that perhaps scouts, with their heavy training, gather a couple of points from the MPs in that department. After all, MPs hardly bothered to train beyond the obligatory, which was very little.

Slightly turning to his right, locking eyes with her with an unapproachable demeanour, hand on hip, he questioned, "Dare to explain what you're doing breaking curfew, cadet? Do you want to jeopardize us all with your incompetence"

The first part of her plan was to improvise. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she thought about saying, but how could she claim that after sleeping over the countertop? His grey eyes, almost cat-like, hunted her in the dark, and suddenly, she felt her legs tremble. There was something inexplicably magnetic about him now that she had him up close, alone, in the middle of the night.

Her lips, still glossy, parted in doubt as she mumbled uneasily, "I…" She wanted to come up with a new excuse, but quickly realized she wasn’t cut out for this, for the whole charade. "I have a headache," she finally managed.

His face remained unreadable, uninterested eyes glued to her, judging her, waiting for her to break under his scrutiny, like a mother who knows you’re lying, allowing a brief moment of silence for a confession before taking matters into her own hands. But Y/N stayed resolute, gathering ambition from unknown sources.

Hand on hips, weight shifting from one leg to another, eyes quickly moving from her face to the countertop. "That won’t help," the words crossed the kitchen as if it were an open field of a hunting sport, piercing her heart but leaving her to crawl an agonizing death until her dying breath.

"Sorry?"

Eyes focusing again on the countertop. "Black tea," he said monosyllabically, as if each word cost him money. "That doesn’t help with headaches; you should get chamomile or peppermint."

"Ah," she replied, confused. Why was he clarifying that? What was the point of this conversation? Crossing legs as the cold crept in, but it quickly vanished as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Turning back around, facing the counter and gripping her own teacup. The recommendation was blatantly ignored; it seemed like a random fact thrown at her rather than something to take seriously, at least for her. About to carry on, she considered just faking preparing the tea and getting away from there.

Frozen in place, each hair on her body raised involuntarily. Not even his steps against the wood planks had been heard. ‘Oh.. Uhm-’ the natural process of breathing was totally forgotten. A strong, patronizing hand sneaking, almost creeping with confidence on her lower back, guiding her toward another cupboard.

He moved closer, getting an involuntary reaction out of her. Straightening up, chest pushing forward, lips parting, breath accelerating. He was so close, looking into her. Eyes locked onto hers over her shoulder, transparent pearls penetrating her soul. Nails sank into her palms as her teeth clenched. If he was so short, why did it feel so towering? Suddenly, the thought of owing him an apology for simply sharing the same air crossed her mind. Her nipples were noticeable through her loose shirt; he must be able to see it. As he grew closer, her idea was that all the subtle little hints must have worked.

Eyes closed, holding her breath, the air moving around her gave her the idea of movement. Holding out for nothing. Waiting for him to steal a kiss from her, perhaps grip her hips, pushing aside her loose short, turning her around, and fuck her roughly and mindlessly over the countertop. Getting what he wanted as if it were rightfully his.

“Here,” she opened her eyes. He was handing her a tea box where it read the same ingredients he had suggested.

“Thank you, sir,” her subtle smile tried to make up for her disappointment. Expectations were different; somehow, her best hopes were on him ogling at her, making it more impersonal and disinterested. Therefore, she could say that she walked up there, perhaps pleased him, and got what she came looking for. It was easier; easier it is to repeat like a broken record some silly washed-up quotes and nicknames that guys allegedly liked. ‘Yes, daddy’, ‘I’ll be a good girl Captain, I just do bad things with you,’ ‘Please, sir. I’m a good girl,’ or something in the department of ‘Ah- its so big, daddy,’ Get used and lose a little bit of dignity in exchange for something else.

Different it is, the tension building in her as she felt him looming over her frame, reminding her of just how insignificant she truly was compared to him. His hand resting lightly on the small of her back, guiding her movements. The coolness of his touch contrasting with the heat radiating off her body. Or the opposite, how cold and exposed she felt with her scant clothes and his cold hand didn’t help. A treacherous finger began to travel upwards, making each vertebra move and curve.

“Sir?” she hated how scared her voice sounded. Suddenly, as if it had escaped her mind, she remembered he was humanity’s strongest soldier. The soldier who went on the expedition to retake Wall Maria and essentially fought the most difficult titan shifter known until now, who led the Uprising. How many MPs did he kill there? How much stronger was he than her? Could she truly still walk away from this, or was her fate sealed?

“You’re stiff as a board; that’s giving you the headaches,” he commented casually as his right hand reached her shoulder and kneaded.

The action was absurdly overwhelming; she didn’t know her traps hurt this much until now but also how to react. Self-preservation mechanisms were out of the window; her lips pronounced what they had been dying to say since she left her bed. “It’s because of the promotion; it’s stressing me out.”

“I can help with that,”

Her worst fears and wildest dreams, all together in a sentence. Confirming what she came looking for but also the end of the speculations. Translucent eyes looked at him over her shoulder, expecting him to make the bolder move. She hated to admit how her heart skipped a beat, how his controlling hand on her neck made her want to arch her spine and gasp softly.

“With the headaches, I mean,” adrenaline had reached a peak and now tumbled down, leaving her devoid of thought other than disappointment mixed with relief. However, his tone, covered in a thin layer of entertainment, passed unaware to her at first.

Both hands on each trap, fingers sank in and then moved. Tearing her muscles apart from her bones, that’s how it felt. Handling, strong, overwhelming. Her breath stuck in her chest, and no matter how much she tried, she wobbled in her place. No amount of strength could help her remain still. Each tug that forced her to press slightly back against his chest, feeling the straps of the uniforms, made her sense weak, nervous. How his strong, calloused fingers felt divine, slightly too rough with the perfect amount of pain to make her forget for a minute but not entirely. Despite their roughness, his nails were perfectly short, making it impossible to experience any scratches.

The thought that perhaps there was another motive behind all this, beyond just getting a promotion, crossed her mind. It was the opportunity to experience how it would feel to be man-handled by the strongest soldier out there until she was left foolish. Her walls pressed together as excitement crept in, reminding her of how lonely and empty she felt. Wouldn’t a little love and something significant big feel extraordinary? The realization of how thin her shorts were and how much her body reacted to his touch filled her with shame.

Allowing him to treat her like some bitch in heat, shooting a load or two for a mere letter that said, "she’s good at what she does," as some cruel inner joke. It left her feeling worthless yet needy, a bad combination.

“Breathe, you’re tensing even more,” he murmured, and she could almost swear the smirk could be felt in his tone. The intentions were to breathe, to remain unaffected, but his movements felt powerfully triggering, and he seemed so unbothered by it. Any force he applied to almost tear her muscles into the correct position didn’t signify any real strength for him.

Each tug began to win little chopped breaths out of her as it was painful but also relaxing. She couldn't help but obey his command, forcing herself to take deep breaths to try and relax. But his touch, his presence, it was all so intense. Each movement of his hands felt deliberate, calculated, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And she couldn't deny the tingling sensation that spread through her body at his touch, despite her best efforts to remain composed.

She struggled to follow his instructions, her breaths coming out in short, shallow gasps as his hands worked their magic on her tense muscles. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort within her. It was as if he could sense her vulnerability, her longing for something more than just a simple massage. Tug, thumbs pressing against her traps as they moved upwards, dragging her skin with them, chopped out breath as the pressure was too much before it withdrew slowly.

Then all over again, harsh. “Mhh ah-” it left her lips involuntarily as he touched a particular place. She gnawed her lip, holding back. His fingers weren’t particularly soft, not only because of the pressure he delivered but also rough with days and days of working, slightly calloused, rubbing in all the right places. Not again, she swore she was trying to remain composed, how he hadn’t heard her. “AH-” wincing as he moved up and contracted her neck, she feared for a second he would choke her.

His grip tightened, nails digging deeper into her flesh, pulling her downward. Thighs shaking, knees buckled, she fought to keep standing as her world spun. He knew her weakness; he exploited it without remorse. Every touch was a reminder of his dominance, every pull a testament to his power. She was helpless beneath him, unable to escape his grasp. Levi’s hands, humanity’s strongest hands—strong, angled, harsh, broad.

He chuckled.

He chuckled between pulls, his thumb rubbing circles on her sore spots, while his palm pressed harder against her neck.

Y/N froze in place as she felt him chuckle entertained behind her, almost mischievously. “Somebody is excited,” he calmly commented, but the smirk on his face was subtly evident in his tone. His voice was steady, despite the few sassy remarks, and it annoyed her to death. Like a cat playing with a moth until it's dead, they know they've won the game, so why rush it? Let's enjoy the hunt while she’s stripped of her dignity. “Nobody's given it to you in a while?”

Lips parted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and offense, she looked over her shoulder at Levi’s bleary eyes. “Excuse me?” she frowned deeply as she turned. She hadn't realized until then how close he was to her, practically breathing the same air. His stare penetrated her iris and seemed to read her soul, making her swallow uneasily. Her demanding tone quickly withdrew not only from her voice but also from her features. His silence subtly implied, but his presence demanded, ‘Come on, girl. You don’t reply to me like that if you know what's good for you.’ That’s what she got.

“A massage,” he said quietly, “nobody's given you a massage in a while?”

At this rate, she knew he knew. He was playing, dancing around the edge of pretending ignorance and seeing how far she would go. Standing, either summoning the courage to bring up the offer herself or walk out empty-handed. Waiting, like a mafia boss to see how much she would beg before setting her free, or crawling back to him, hoping for an opportunity.

There was an inner battle: either snap at him, reply, or descend all levels of self-love.

“It’s because you’re going too rough,” she said, mainly because she refused to be so quickly humiliated by a guy that short. Both looked at each other; her gaze moved slightly over his eyes, expecting any shift, something, but it was obvious that in a stare fight, he was going to win.

"Rough?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “You’ve no idea what rough means.”

Her cockiness quickly withdrew. She wished she had some sassy comeback prepared or ready, but it wasn’t the case. Her teeth rolled along the edge of her bottom lip. It made her curious; either he liked to pretend he had more sexual history than was known, or she had bitten off more than she could chew. It stirred up a mix of curiosity, excitement, nervousness, and fear all at once. Imagining him fucking some unknown soldier rough, mindlessly, just for the sake of it. Scouts were so stressed, living quick, short lives.

Her eyes couldn’t help themselves, quickly dropping down to check. His thick, muscular legs, almost as if they had been forced to fit into the tight black trousers of the uniform. Losing its subtleness, the outline of his dick on one side of his left leg forced her to look back up. She finally turned around to face him again, but his stoic expression gave away little information, almost none.

“Perhaps you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, brat,” his voice began to sound like a distorted dream. She was waiting for some smooth approach or perhaps a fully humiliating one. The expectations were simpler: either he would like to pretend some love he endeared from her or behave like any disgusting dude at a bar, asking for a quickie in a bathroom cabinet. Neither of the two options was less humiliating. But this was different.

At this rate, the humiliation and initial thoughts were replaced by overwhelming curiosity. “How rough?” She felt her glossed lips stick together slightly as she murmured timidly, feeling her head heat up and her stomach tighten. Something intrinsically wrong must be with her, she believed.

With a second thought, she was sure that this would make her extremely ashamed.

“You’ll have to stick around to find out,” he warned, not a single centimetre of his features giving away any sort of intentions. Excitement or expectation, arousal or boredom, sweetness or creepiness. Grey gems looking back at her deadly, daring her to make deals with the devil or walk back home.

‘Go big or go home, didn’t I say that?’

“I want a recommendation,” she finally said it, thrilling anticipation coursing through her veins. This man, this beast, was about to unleash hell upon her body. Yet, she found herself oddly eager for it. Was it fear or excitement? Perhaps both. “and… in exchange, you can go as rough as you want.”

It felt absurdly dirty. Giving it a thought in the hole of self-hate, she concluded that perhaps she should have done this when she was younger, like her friends as cadets. When hormones and lack of experience made it hard to think it through, that receiving a good salary and free days to go out and party was worth letting any squad leader get a chance.

"Recommendation," he echoed, repeating her words as if testing them on his tongue. There was a moment of silence, as if weighing the pros and cons of such a proposition.

Finally, he nodded. "Very well."

Those two words held such weight, sending another wave of nerves through her. What had she gotten herself into? The room suddenly became hotter, thicker, suffocating. Her heart raced faster, pounding heavily in her ears.

Half-lidded, she moved closer, not entirely sure how this was done, if it was meant to start slow and soft for it to escalate. But she tried; she could take the lead in the kiss. But his hand stopped her face as he tilted backwards, completely breaking the moment.

“Who do you think I am?” Levi said, offended. And she feared for her life. Perhaps he just wanted to ascertain how much of an easy, cock-drunk slut she was to give him more reasons to find her worthless. But then, “Some green cadet who, for the sake of getting my cock wet, I would fuck you behind a horse at the stables? Or at the common kitchen?”

She didn’t know how to answer, but thankfully, Levi didn’t give her much time to talk. “My chambers.”

Feeling closer to a military order than a booty appointment, she slowly made her way to the door while he retreated to the counters, tidying up. Her feet dragged across the hall as she pushed open the door, her eyes constantly checking behind her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this might all be a joke.

Before she knew it, his hand urged her forward, pushing at the small of her back to guide her upstairs. "Come on, girly, we don’t have all night," he muttered.

It felt like a shameful march. They ascended the stairs in silence, each step echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The stillness of the night only intensified her discomfort; she couldn't shake the feeling that someone might overhear them. Perhaps some night owl among the scouts would peek through a door, or worse, they might already know who slept where. The thought of having to make the same trip downstairs the next morning filled her with dread. As if she would walk out of that room with a paper stuck to her forehead that said, "I was Captain Levi’s slut for a night."

Led through the dim corridors of the base, they passed several closed doors marked 'Officer Quarters,' indicating where higher-ranking personnel resided. Finally, they reached what seemed to be his room. With a swift motion, he unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter first. ‘What a gentleman,’ she thought sarcastically.

As she stepped inside and took in her surroundings, she noticed the simplicity of his chamber. It lacked extravagance, with only functional furniture and tools of his trade. The room felt impersonal, as if he had never bothered to make it feel like home. His office area featured a desk cluttered with paperwork and a bookshelf filled with texts on military strategy and tactics.

To the left were two doors, presumably leading to his bedroom and an attached bathroom. Levi moved past her to search through the cabinets while she observed. Two glasses were already filled by the time he turned to her.

"A drink?" he offered.

She accepted, unable to suppress a subtle smile. Whatever she had anticipated for the night, this wasn't it. Chuckling, she teased, "Do you offer drinks to all the girls you bring over?"

Levi downed his drink and poured another. "No. But you seem nervous as fuck, and it’s making me uncomfortable."

She laughed softly, acknowledging the truth in his statement. "Thank you, then." The burn of alcohol sliding down her throat helped steady her nerves somewhat.

As they stood there, glasses in hand, tension hung thick between them. Hoping the alcohol would ease the tension, she shifted her attention elsewhere, but she could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. Swallowing, Addam's apple moving before he spoke, "Are you clean, right?"

His question caught her off guard, and she almost choked on her drink. "What?" she hummed, not fully comprehending.

Then, fear crept in quickly. "I am… I’m not doing it without protection," she clarified confidently.

His chuckle did little to ease her worry. "No shit, girly. I wasn’t stupid enough as a teen to not wrap it up. I'm not starting now," he replied. "The last thing I need in my life right now is getting a chick knocked up."

His words, despite their lack of warmth, reassured her. "I meant, is it safe for me to eat you out,"

Relief washed over her as she realized her misunderstanding. "Oh," she replied sheepishly. "Yes, you can." As his words sank in, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, lips pressing together before she took another sip and crossed her legs. 'Doesn’t he want a blowjob?' How many superiors offer you promotions in exchange for making you cum?

He nodded, finishing his drink in one gulp. His intense gaze never wavered from hers. "Good."

Slowly, he approached her, closing the distance until they were mere inches apart. She could smell the liquor on his breath, taste it on his lips. For a brief moment, she wondered if he expected her to initiate something, but before she could gather her thoughts, their lips met in a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, asserting dominance as his hands gripped her hips, pressing her against the door.

Pulling away slightly, he pinned her against the door, his hands roaming her body as he kissed her jawline. "Wait… let’s go to the room," she suggested, realizing he meant to fulfil his earlier request.

"No, you're too timid for riding my face. I want to be buried in your pussy right now," he insisted. The impact against the harsh wood surface and his lips reconnecting with her with necessity almost knocked her completely off her breath. Hands that had been kneading her shoulders only a few minutes ago were now digging into her hips, pushing them into his, possessive and demanding.

"Levi," she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible. The kiss was broken again, and her agitated breathing filled the gap between their faces. Surprised by his sudden aggression, she struggled to form coherent thoughts as he continued to devour her neck and shoulders. His hands roamed freely over her body, tracing along her curves and dipping beneath her top to cup her breasts roughly.

“It’s Captain Levi, for you,”

All her attempts to appear seductive were now the natural flush of her face, pumped lips of how they tried to suck each other’s air, the blood in her cheeks, the tossed hair. His hands grabbed the edge of her shorts and played with it. His words crossed the little space between their features with cockiness. “What are you wearing under this for me? Huh? What slutty little shit did you put on to wrap yourself up as if you’re my birthday present?”

A cheeky index finger ghostly touched her belly with its knuckle, making the fine hairs raise involuntarily before tugging on the fabric to sneak a peek. ‘Why doesn’t he just tell me to strip?’ But Captain Levi seemed to be like a cat; he liked to play with his prey until eating them completely, a cruel game. Eyes checked down and hummed in approval. “Black, classic. Not bad,” he said, but a part of his speech didn’t seem impressed. “But I prefer pink.”

Her mind insisted on giving it a second thought, that he didn’t strike her as those types of guys, but anything happening until then had proved to her that she had no idea who he was, what he liked, what type of man Captain Levi was.

Without further prompting, Levi dropped to his knees, positioning himself between her legs. His fingers trailed along the hem of her shorts, pausing briefly before dropping it. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before diving in, his nose brushing against the fabric.

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath as his warm breath tickled her sensitive flesh. Anticipation built within her, mixing with apprehension. It was unavoidable. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to focus solely on the sensations washing over her. A gasp left her lips as he grabbed her right leg and lifted it as if it was nothing and placed it over his shoulder. His calloused hand still lingering on it, gripping her thighs with strength and pleasure, enjoying gripping them as his nose pressed softly against her folds.

Levi's skilled fingers hooked beneath the elastic band of her panties, tugging them aside just enough. Once removed, he ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her swollen core. An involuntary moan escaped her lips. She trembled in a different kind of anxiousness; it was now plainly obvious. With a smirk, Levi leaned in closer, his nose barely grazing her sensitive flesh. "Do you like that, girly?" he whispered, his tone thick with lust. Her answer was evident in the way she trembled under his touch.

Gently, he blew cold air across her wetness, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She couldn't help but arch her back, moaning softly as her grip tightened on the door behind her. Nails digging into the wood as terror set in. Slowly, he lowered his head, his tongue darting out to trace the outline of her folds.

Fear. No, he didn’t want a quickie at some public facility. No, he didn’t want some quick blowjob under his desk. No, he didn’t want any fast, easy solution. He wanted to savour each single centimetre of skin, torture all the cells, squeeze each second that he got to play with her as his little possession.

Each flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of sensation throughout her body, making her squirm. His expert hands found purchase on her thighs, holding her firmly in place. His tongue flicked out, teasing her entrance as his thumb kept doing slow little circles on top of her clit. Gripping his shoulders for balance and support. He slid his middle finger across her entrance, coating it with her arousal before dipping it inside. His thumb continued to tease her clit, stroking gently yet firmly.

Her moans grew louder, punctuated by soft whimpers as her head thumped against the door. Her breath agitated as his tongue slipped inside her. “Mh- Ah!” she felt her climax nearing, wondering with half-lidded eyes why he was being so pleasing. It was torture how he moved with perfect sync, but yet it was subtle. As if she let herself be dragged by the course, her body relaxing and twitching unintentionally as he held her in place.

Her back arched unintentionally, trying to follow him as he suddenly pulled back when she was about to reach her peak. “Captain-”

“That’s it, get all soft for me,” He murmured as he casually kissed the bottom of her belly. Before he went back, determined. It only took one, two, three flicks of his thumb directly over her bud to make her gasp loudly, press her raised leg against his head and feel how the other tensed and then struggle to keep her up. Her breath struggled to find a rhythm when all of a sudden, he took all of her in. Unapologetic tongue ran flat all over her fold before closing over the top so he started to suck and lick directly her clit as two unceremonious fingers were playing with her entrance before sinking in all the way.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as her nails scratched the door and she began to twist in position as if it was too much after her release.

“MH- Ah, no wait- AH!” a loud moan cut her complaints as his fingertips found a particular place and decided to assault it with no mercy, as his mouth kept playing directly over her clit. It was too much; she felt her leg shaking as much as she felt his fingers getting impossibly wet and slippery inside with no remorse anymore. They pushed against her walls, making her feel the tug of her own body before returning to press against that spot.

“No. No-hah!” She began convulsing against the wall, her head moving hectically to the side as she felt herself getting impossibly wet and electric waves coursing through her. “Please- No! Wait ah! No."

Palms pressed against the door, trying to push herself upwards, but he grabbed her shaking leg that was struggling to keep her up and positioned it over his shoulder with the other. The movement was so smoothly done; to him, it felt natural, but for her, it felt like a completely different situation. The strength with which he moved left her absurdly powerless; the tug felt so powerful as if she didn’t even notice the resistance she was exerting compared to his.

Then, he completely sat on his face. She felt everything—the contour of his face as her body rocked involuntarily, his fingers slipping in and out as his nose rubbed against her folds while his tongue licked clean her abused hole. “HM!” she gasped loudly, jerking upwards before falling completely over his head when the hand that was kneaded the meat of her thigh slapped her loudly.

She wanted to move, to slip away as she felt as if her bones were being drained, uncontrollable pleasure overtaking her. Her thighs pressed against his head as one of her hands moved downwards to tug his soft dark locks, obsessed, shivering as her mind kept shutting down.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she struggled against him, fighting against his strong grasp. "Please, Captain, I can't take it anymore!" she pleaded, her voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m fucking going to piss myself.”

With a smirk hidden from view, Levi held her in place, refusing to let her go. He knew exactly where she stood, only groaning pleasingly as he intensified his actions. His fingers thrust into her relentlessly, matching his rhythm with the flicks of his tongue. Levi could feel her hips buck violently, trying to escape his relentless assault, how she squirmed helplessly in his grasp. He was feasting on her with no remorse.

She cried out his name, unable to bear the intensity any longer. Her orgasm hit like a freight train, her body convulsing as she tried to pull away. But he wouldn't allow it, keeping her anchored to his mouth, shaking as he kept driving his tongue all over her. The feeling of being dripping was overshadowed by him drinking her in as if he was the thirstiest man alive, moaning against her folds as she could almost bet she felt his pleased smirk.

At some point, she couldn’t even hold her form against the door, twitching involuntarily. Levi reluctantly released her, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. He stood up and picked her up, no buckling knees, no groan or scoff as he did; it was as if he was picking up a paper sheet from the desk. Weightless, powerless against his pull. Unceremoniously, he dropped her on the bed.

Jacket off shoulders, left at the back of a chair inside his room. Arness's upper part was pushed down so his hands could grip the edge of his grey shirt and push it over his head. Then, before she could process it, enjoying the soft cotton of the fabric against her body, marking a huge difference from the rough door, one of his knees sank on the mattress before he crawled to be between her legs.

Elbows on the bed, heels pushing upwards, her broken voice pleaded, “no, please. It’s enough,” as he kissed and nibbled the sweet part of her inner thighs before moving to her core again. “Ah!” she jerked again as he snapped the side of her leg again.

The tingling heat after the hit lingered on her as Levi rearranged her on the bed to his pleasure. “I think you’re not understanding your position,” he groaned, “I’ll say when it's enough; you just have to spread your legs for me to do what I please. That’s your fucking job now if you want your stupid letter, lay there and be a good pliant hole for me to fuck.”

Uncomfortable groans echoed in the room, interrupted by his own voice once again, “Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes…” she murmured but his haunting glance between his legs made her thought he heard her backwards softly. Passing down saliva, “Yes, sir.”

“This is your last warning,” he informed her, while his hands ran up and down her body, palm flat against the valley of her breasts, the touch was so soft but it felt subtly rough from the callouses of his hands, a permanent reminder this wasn’t supposed to feel as lovely as it momentarily did. “Did you hear me, girly? Or have I already fucked you dumb?”

“Yes, sir.”

Contorting uneasily as little whimpers left her lips between a mix of discomfort, pleasure, exhaustion, and pain. Pain because she could already feel his fingers sneaking in, three of them patiently spreading her for him and his restless mouth once again on work. It was too much, involuntarily her legs pushed against the mattress when he hit a particular place. Twisting as if she was possessed, fingers tugging from the sheets and her back arching as a natural reflex.

It was embarrassing how much she felt the wetness of her own mixed with his saliva sneaking through her ass cheeks down to the bed. Her legs felt weak but got a sudden burst of strength as he kept playing with a place that made her eyes roll back and tried to push her up. Levi held her in place, arm surrounding her thighs and arching her core to his face. Despite it all, her hole twitched with the necessity of more, demanding something even bigger as she felt her pinkie fingers going numb from the overpressure.

Knees buckled as he parted momentarily. “What a cute little slutty hole. You’re so tight; I will enjoy fucking it raw,” while she trembled in anticipation, Levi smirked as if he could already see everything he had planned in his mind. He softly pressed a finger on it only to see it clamp down onto it. “So fucking needy; when was the last time you got a good cock to fuck you back into your place?”

With a smirk, Levi withdrew his finger, replaced it with his mouth, and plunged inside, sucking her into his mouth. His finger teased against the back wall, exploring her depths before finding the spot that made her buck wildly. She mewled, her voice hoarse and filled with a hint of desperation. Her head thrashed from side to side, her nails digging into the sheets as she begged for mercy.

The following two orgasms were quick; Levi was getting eager to plow into her pussy with his dick now. His finger pried her open, and his tongue easily got in and swirled around. At this rate, she was just spread on the bed, twitching miserably, whimpering out of pleasure and the sweet pain it provided. “It’s so pretty when you cry,” he joked as little mewling sounds left her rose lips, and her eyes looked translucent with clamped-out eyelashes by the moisture. “Beg me more.”

Her eyes fluttered open, desperate and pleading. "Please, sir… just fuck me already," she begged. The intensity of her arousal was overwhelming; her body begged for release.

Levi got up to his knees, looking down at her and then between her legs, admiring his own creation with a smirk on his face. Fingers casually unbuckling his belt, letting it hang loosely around his hips as he undid the front button of his black uniform trousers and shamelessly patted the front of his engorged dick, feeling the outline of his erection through the fabric and hissing slightly as he finally got some relief from the pressure. As if he enjoyed forcing himself to enjoy every little bite from his meal, saving the best for last, testing his endurance of resisting to the last limit so each little inch that he plugged in of his dick finally in that slippery hot heaven felt like pure blessing. His left hand, which wasn’t touching himself, caressed her leg that forced to be up because she could no longer do it on his own.

“Ass up, girly,” he said. The command had been processed, but it was as if her body wasn’t replying to her mind. The only thing she could fully process was the movement of the mattress and how cold the bed felt as Levi abandoned it. Lazy steps against the wood planks that gave up little cracking sounds. Striding in front of his dresser, slightly bending, allowing her to have a good view of his ass as he dropped the trousers with the underwear all together and then quickly folded them and threw them over the surface, but he upheld something with his left hand from his clothes that she couldn’t perceive from the perspective of spying on him from her lazily open legs and half-lidded eyes. Fingers rummaged through a couple of things before he got what he had been looking for.

“It seems like I’ve to do fucking everything,” he complained, but there was no hint of actual anger in his voice, stoic as ever as he walked back to the bed with his hard dick on full display. Impossible erect and slightly dripping pre-cum from the tip that was a deep shade of red compared to the rest of his pale body, it involuntarily twitched as if it was happy of being finally free. She bit her bottom lip as she delighted herself with the view before doing a little eye contact; it was a good size, way more than she anticipated. Underneath it his heavy balls and on top a nice happy trail that resembled a signal that indicated anything under his belly button and chiseled abs was also a happy surprise.

Her eyes quickly fell to his left hand, and she noticed the belt from the 3DMG gear. While the reason why he may have kept that was rather obvious, the possibility escaped her rationality. “Wait- You’re not using that-“

“I said.” He just gripped the sides of her hips and flipped her over, “Ass up.”

Knees sank on the bed, “MHMP-“ her complaints were muffled by the bed as avoiding her full upper body falling completely into the mattress was difficult as he gripped her arms.

“I told you, it was your last warning,” Levi said as the belt tied up against her wrists, knotting up safely. Her face buried in the sheets by the pressure of her own weight, “I’ll teach you discipline, little shit.”

Hands massaging her ass cheeks, fingers sinking in the meat as his own knees against her legs forced more space. “HMP!” muffled complaint as swiftly one hand impacted on her ass, heat spreading through the skin and turning it red as the sound echoed in the dead of night. His hand followed, leaving a mark on her ass. The heat traveled through her skin, and she could feel her pussy drenching with need. She whimpered, trying to squirm against the belt, but he held her in place. Another and another, each time made her jerk forward slightly as her breath held in her chest and then puffed out.

“Please…” she whispered as her head turned to a side, resting her cheek on the mattress. “I’ll behave, please.”

Levi hummed, but his hand didn’t leave her ass, caressing the hurt zone softly. “Don’t you think we should make it even?”

The next swat landed on her other cheek, making her eyes water and her body jerk. "Please!" she cried out, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her whole body tensed, every nerve ending screaming in anticipation and desire.

Levi grunted, "Ah. You’re such a crying baby. As all MPs," he growled, rubbing the red splotches with his calloused hand. "You're so wet, begging for my dick. You better be grateful you're getting it."

“Ah-!” she gasped loudly as he slapped her ass again. The grip on her hair pushed her head up, and despite the tug and the strength of the grip, the relief of fresh air filling her lungs finally clouded her mind. His breath impacted on her face from the side as he held her, watching how her mouth hung open, panting softly.

“Thank me for showing you your place,” Levi demanded.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, forcing herself to look at him from the side. Locking her pleading eyes with his demanding stare. “Thank you for reminding me of my place, sir.”

Levi hummed satisfied, his fingers weaving into her hair again. "That's my girl," he growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Good girl,” he repeated before placing a kiss on her shoulder blades that were working extra hard by having her hands tied back. He released her hair, gave her ass one last swat, and then positioned himself behind her. She whimpered one last time, face resting on the side as she observed him opening up the foil of the condom carefully and then the subtle hiss as he rolled it down his dick. One hand lazily jerked himself as another reached for her folds and casually ran up and down his thumb through them, spreading the slick evenly.

“You should be riding my cock until I got tired of keeping it wet and warm, yet here I am,” Levi complained as if he wasn’t the one taking each and every decision while shamelessly gripping her tied-up hands from the back to position himself. “Fucking you silly and doing all the shitty job; maybe I should get that promotion,”

‘As if this wasn’t what you wanted.’

But she decided to carry on with the performance, either out of self-preservation, arousal, or the feeling of the cold-wrapped head of his cock running up and down her folds, applying soft pressure at her entrance before withdrawing, had already made her mad. “Thank you, sir.”

The angle of her body, the arch of her back, his hand on her hip, and his subtle hum of approval. Her mouth hung open, and the gasp was fully cushioned by the bed, struggling against her binds. Despite her assumptions, Levi sank in slowly and patiently, despite slipping inside effortlessly.

“Ah- Fuck,” he scoffed out, gritting his teeth as his head fell backward slightly, forcing himself to savor the moment but not completely lose it, gasping slightly. Withdrawing only a bit before thrusting back in, testing the waters. He took a moment to adjust, breathing heavily through his nose, and then began to thrust slowly. Each movement was met with a soft whine from the girl. But the soft, almost loving pace lasted the split of a second, a brief moment of calmness before the storm.

She should have known, at this rate, the second one of his hands abandoned her hip to grip the belt around her tied-back hands and used it as leverage. The tug from the resistance, the forced into place, and one deep thrust that knocked the air out of her lungs. Withdrawing almost all the way, almost only the tip left in before he used her own hands as a grip to push all the way in.

"God damn," he cursed under his breath, pushing in deeper. “You’re so tight,” he muttered, a pleased growl escaping his throat. Meanwhile, she would swear she was trying to breathe more, but the sheets stuck to her face and covered her nose. She tried to cry a little bit less loud because despite her features being buried down, the loud muffled moans each time he plunged all the way in mixed with the loud slapping of the bed frame against the wall must have woken up someone somehow.

“MH-HMP!” Her dignity told her not to sob of how good it feels, how deep it hits, how it felt as if he was trying to break her in half, conserve some dignity, but tears ran down her face of how perfectly synced he set the rhythm, how the friction of her parted knees against the sheets was starting to burn, but it was the perfect mix of how his cock’s head hit that place so brutally sweet.

“Fucking shit, what a pretty view on all fours,” he grunted, his voice sounding less controlled. The lust creeping in as his free thumb pushed his ass cheeks apart, locking his eyes on the way his cock disappeared into the slippery mess of her abused hole at that rate. “Ah-“ Levi let out a subtle moan as if the view was too much to handle, as the sweat glistened on her skin. The only way to not get completely lost in it was to spark it again.

“NH-AH!” she cried out as her legs trembled and her lips gasped for air.

“Best ass inside the walls,” Levi groaned. “And it’s all mine to fuck raw.”

Each thrust, each pull out, and then the deep push - Levi grunted, his own breathing ragged. He gripped the belt, pulling her hands slightly, making her hiss as the pressure against her skin was starting to leave obvious marks. Marks that joined all the rest of them, the still fresh, almost pulsating red handprints on each of her ass cheeks, the shameless bites he left on her shoulder blades each time he bent over to it.

His pace quickened, and so did her tears. She was soaked, her toes curled, and her body shook with each hit. She was a mess, a crying, whiny mess, and yet she was enjoying it, her core clenching around his cock with every movement. Levi growled, and his thrusts became harder, faster, more forceful. A relentless groan escaped him as he slammed into her harder, the friction of her wet core against his shaft nearly driving him insane. His grip on the belt tightened, and he pulled her hands back even further, making her body arch even more. The sound of leather against her skin echoed through the room, the scent of her arousal mingling with the smell of the clean room.

She was close, so close, but Levi stopped suddenly, and she wanted to scream out in frustration, to put an end to this sweet torture. Her knees hurt, her arms hurt, her pussy throbbed with need and abuse when he pulled out of her. No time to think as his pale, sweaty hand appeared from the top, grabbing the pillow and then turning her around forcefully from her shoulder.

“I want to see that fucking pretty face of yours while I fuck you,” Despite the darkness of the night, the room felt like it lighted up for her now with her face finally on display. Pillow under her hips, both legs over his shoulders, and without a minute to spare, he thrust all the way in.

“AH!” her moan echoed in the room as the angle felt too much, her toes curled impossibly, and her legs shook. “Ah- Ah- MHA! Captain-“ Top of her body twisted as her head rolled to the side, tears running down her cheeks, and the restless attention of him on her face was humbling.

“SHHH, quiet, little shit ah-“ He whispered. Sweat dripped from his forehead and from the tips of his dark locks, but he ignored it. “You want the entire fucking scouts to hear you?”

The bed creaked loudly, their bodies merging into one, like an animalistic dance. He gripped her legs more tightly, pushing in and out, setting up a pace that seemed to put both of them into a trance. Few messy soppy kisses to her legs as he had them within reach. Y/N bit her bottom lip trying to suppress her moans, leaving restless whimpers and cries of pleasure “Ah ah ah- hmmm,”. She tried but couldn't contain the sounds, but his dick was hitting her cervix as if that was his glorious duty; he folded her as if squeezing her legs against her bouncing tits was somehow helping her not to feel how his dick filled each corner of her. No, it did not help.

“Stop, stop, stop, almost, fuck-” she begged, pressing her legs against his head and trying to control her body from shaking.

Levi laughed roughly, a sound filled with victory and lust. “Want more? Want me to ruin you completely?”

“AH! YES-!” a loud moan as her back arched, head thrown backwards, and eyelids flickering of how good it felt. Nothing that felt like this, as someone pushed her down on the bed, slamming his cock into her, should be healthy, she concluded. “Quiet,” Levi warned, his voice hoarse. He loved how she clenched around his cock, how her pussy milked him with her orgasm. Frowning deeply as the feeling of her clamping down on his dick was too much to handle, a soft, quiet little moan left his gritted teeth. His abs contorted and his white knuckle grip on the sheets made his arm veins pop up.

“Please, Captain, Ah!” Why bother, the sound of the bed should be enough of a clue for the rest. And what if someone thought she was Captain Levi’s slut? What if she opened her legs wide and steady for him to fuck her restlessly? Who cared? Not her, definitely not her, as the only remaining feeling aside from the scorching heat of the pleasure waves around her body was the tingling sensation of her numbed arms and feet.

“Shut the fuck up,” he insisted, looking down at her. His hand around her neck, two fingers pushed down her parted lips. “I fucking told you to keep quiet.”

“NHG!” She choked on them as Levi kept them there while he lost his rhythm, thrusting into her restlessly and messily.

Her eyes watered up, staring into his as she struggled to breathe. The sweaty, panting man fucking her hard and fast, with an unapologetic expression on his face. She attempted to shake her head, but he wouldn't let her go.

"Shhh," he muttered, panting mouth as sweat ran down his face. "Just let me finish this."

Each thrust seemed to drive him closer to the edge. The friction between his dick and her pussy grew more intense, sending waves of pleasure through him. He couldn't care less about being quiet anymore - he just wanted to come, and he wanted her to see him do it.

"You're gonna cum with me," Levi growled, his voice ragged. "Look at me."

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of fear and desire. Levi's eyes bore into hers, making her shiver with each thrust. She let out a soft whimper, unable to deny him anything anymore. The pleasure was too overwhelming to resist.

"That's right," he praised, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. "Cum with me, you little slut." His thrusts grew more desperate, each one driving him closer to the edge. He needed to come, needed to release the tension building up inside him, and she was his outlet. Her pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every twitch, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Tears ran down her eyes into her ears as so did the saliva around his digits drool down her chin, pleading eyes looking into his begging for him to put this to an end.

“MHM-Hmp,” soft humming whimpers that were wordless pleadings of him letting her finally cum.

"You want it?" Levi snarled, thrusting into her harder. "Fuck, you're so damn tight. You love this, don't you?"

Levi couldn't resist anymore, the sight of her tear-filled eyes and pleading look pushed him over the edge. He growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he felt his orgasm approaching. He grinned down at her, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. “Fuck- Aren’t you pretty?” he murmured against her face, almost smiling out of satisfaction.

Both panting in the microspace of the closeness of their faces, breathing each other's ragged puffs of air. Their noses thrusting into each other sometimes as he slammed into her the final times, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over him. Frowned closed eyes, as mewled moans mixed together. Her pussy gripped him tightly, milking him like a vice, and he knew she was cumming too. His eyes met hers, her face a mask of pleasure and pain, and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Not bad," he breathed out, collapsing on top of her. He tried to catch his breath once, twice before he rolled to his side. Finally withdrawing from her slowly and laying flat on his bed next to her. One knee up, arm over his chest, and the other behind his head as a makeshift pillow as his lost eyes glued to the ceiling.

The room was silent except for their heavy breaths, the sweat dripping off their bodies mixing together. His chest raised up and down still erratic as both of them slowly blinked. Y/N lay there, panting heavily, her hands still bound behind her back. She could feel the sweat from Levi's body on her, where their skin touched. Her legs were shaking, and her pussy was still throbbing from the intense experience they just had. Her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but smile weakly.

His body twitched from time to time from the stimulation; her body felt like jelly. Completely boneless. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. But as the cold began to creep in, she contorted uneasily and cleared her throat timidly. “Could you…ehm-“

Levi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, still catching his breath. After a few moments, as he came out of his lethargic state, he finally spoke. “Oh yeah.” His fingers began to undo the knot around her wrists. “There.” Y/N rubbed her hands, feeling the blood returning to them. Her eyes focused on the deep red lines and bruises around them, and she grimaced uneasily. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and she couldn't help but glance at Levi. He shifted, sitting up and rolling off the used condom before tossing it into the bin close to the nightstand.

He stood up slightly to pick something up from his nightstand and also to push the blanket closer that was at the bottom of the bed. She tugged a bit from the sheets to cover her body as the moment slightly washed away, and nudity felt obscene and unnecessary. Levi let the blanket crumple around his hips as he turned on a cigarette.

"You good?" Levi asked, taking a puff from it and leaving the cage back on the nightstand. He looked at her, examining her bruised hands and the red marks from the ropes. A small frown appeared on his face, but he quickly hid it.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip. The marks on her wrists stung, but she didn't want to complain. She slowly sat up, trying to regulate her breathing. The room was still filled with a mix of their sweat and the scent of their passion. Her eyes caught on his lips, more precisely the cigarette. They were rather new now that they discovered the world outside the walls.

Levi looked back at her, at her silence, and casually took a last puff from it before placing it in her lips. “There, have it,” he offered. “You know how it works, right?”

She placed both fingers around it and smoked patiently as she hummed and nodded in approval. Somehow, that made him scoff entertained. “Of course you do, MPs always get used to luxuries rather quickly.”

As the smoke left her lips, she returned it. Y/N hesitated, still rubbing her wrists. She couldn't help but wonder if she should be honest. "Ehm—" she pondered around how to approach the topic, her voice shaky. "Was that… good enough? For the promotion?”

Levi glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she smoked the cigarette. The smoke swirled around them, marking the end of their intimate moment. He took the cigarette back and flicked the ash away, taking another drag.

"Good enough?" he repeated, a smirk forming on his lips. "Was it?"

She grew nervous as he asked back, not sure what to reply. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at him. "I gave you what you wanted?" She asked, her voice soft but curious. She couldn't help but feel a bit vulnerable, lying there with him after their intimate encounter.

He chuckled softly, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

Levi sighed, extinguishing the cigarette in an ashtray. He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms. “You want advice for next time?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Let the other person make an offer first, girly. I asked for your support at the camp so I had an excuse to give you a recommendation; I’ve already heard about your struggle from one of your friends. I had the stupid letter written before you even set foot inside this building."

He paused for a moment, turning his head to look at her. The smirk never left his face.

"But since you offered yourself, I wasn’t going to say no.”

Y/N's face flushed red, feeling embarrassed and a bit betrayed. She bit her lip as she looked at Levi, trying to process what he had just said. Then she scoffed offended, pushing him by the shoulder a bit playfully but also with anger.

"So it was all for nothing," she exclaimed, disappointment evident in her voice and obviously irritated. Holding the crumpled sheets against her chest, “You’re an asshole!”

Her eyes closed in reflex as she noticed his hand moving closer to her face, wrinkling her nose and pushing backward in self-defense. But Levi’s index fingers only softly pushed her frown playfully, and he said, “And you’re too naïve for being an MP,” Levi snorted, rolling his eyes.

Levi watched her move, a small smile on his lips. He slid his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge; his body still feeling sore. To her surprise, he grabbed the blanket and threw it over her head playfully.

"You shouldn't have done that," Y/N muttered, her cheeks still flushed. She took the blanket off her head, which only made her hair even more tangled, glaring at him. "I thought you actually meant it."

Levi smirked, standing up and pulling on his pants. "You really thought I'd turn down an offer like that?" he asked, clearly amused. He reached for his shirt, still smirking at her.

"Get some sleep, I don’t use the bed anyways," he said, zipping up his pants. "But don’t get used to, this isn’t a hotel."

He crossed the door of his bedroom and closed it behind him as she mocked his reply and cursed under her breath.

Walking down the corridors, everybody running to be somewhere else. That’s what the capital is like, always a new pub to discover, always a better party to attend than the previous weekend. Hot and dirty like the vicious air of the underground that laid underneath their boots. Her friends made plans as they called out for the week, writing their names and working hours down on the cards at the front desk. Yellow paper flowed under the conflicted air of the reception office, names written down with different calligraphies and a restless pen swinging as it hung from a cord to the forms.

‘Volunteers,’ it read at the top. The last row was empty, but it was quickly filled out.

‘Squad leader: Y/N L/N’

One of her friends who was eagerly talking to the rest turned around and frowned, confused. “Why are you wasting your weekend volunteering for the Scouts,” she asked, frowning in disgust, “You’re already a squad leader, Y/N, don’t sell yourself short.”

Her fingers gracefully placed the pen back on the table as a smile raised on her features. Adjusting her purse around her shoulders, she casually said, “You know, it’s important to remain humble.”

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