#also the way that cherry's a little roughed up. i like to think that they just tripped trying to get away 😂

[em1i2a3]

Spanish Sahara

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolt!Fem!Reader

Summary: After a rough week at the Thunderbolts Compound, the team goes out for some drinks to wind down and enjoy themselves.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts because Bob and other characters from the movie are in here. Fluff, and Smut are the main warnings here, Bob and Reader have an established friendship.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all), Praise/Worship Kink, Breast Play, …Something involving a mirror, Very light choking, Oral Sex (f! And m! receiving), Fingering, Swallowing, Bob is a frickin softie as usual because that’s hot but he definitely has his moments in this, Overstimulation, Teasing, Aftercare to the max because being taken care of after hot sex is…Wheew lol. I don’t think I missed anything

Author’s Note: I saw a lot of people requesting more smut and I thought as a nice little break from the super long fics that I’m working on (that request box has a lot of them and I’m chipping away at it as much as possible!) I’d write a nice little one-shot for y’all to celebrate a random Friday in May 😂 enjoy!! (Side note, I also had a funny little ask about how I name my posts lol, I literally just picture the songs in what I’m writing, the title changes like three times by the time I post it lol)

Word Count: 13,796

The bar was loud, crowded, and hazy with cheap smoke and too many conversations happening at once–but Bob was only paying attention to you, and attempting to look normal in his surroundings, which was always a complicated feat for him.

You sat across from him in the booth, your body framed in golden lamplight and neon beer signs like some half-lit portrait in an art museum. You looked too good to be real–flushed with warmth from your second tequila pineapple of the night, bare-legs crossed just enough to make his brain short-circuit, lips glossed a cherry red like you’d done it just to ruin him.

And maybe, somewhere deep down, he thought you had.

The others were scattered across the bar like background noise–Ava and Yelena flanking the bar with their usual chaotic grace, Walker and Alexei pounding back shots and shouting about God-knows-what, and Bucky leaning over the pool table, unknowingly feeding lines to a group of women who didn’t care if he could shoot or not.

But Bob hadn’t looked away from you in nearly half an hour.

Not when you uncrossed and re-crossed your legs beneath the table, the movements slow and fluid, like you wanted to give him something to look at. Bob’s eyes had followed the motion instinctively–drawn to the soft slide of skin, to the way your thighs shifted beneath the hem of your black tailored shorts. They were high-waisted and fitted, hugging the dip of your waist and the curve of your hips, cinched with a single gold button that glinted every time you moved.

You’d paired them with that wicked bodysuit–the one that clung to your body like second skin, high-cut at the hips and daringly low in the front, just enough to frame the soft curve of your cleavage without giving away too much. It was backless, sleeveless, and made of some silky, matte fabric that shimmered faintly in the bar light. You wore it like armor, like a challenge.

Your legs were bare, golden under the dim glow, crossed at the knee with one foot tucked behind the other–long, lean, and deliberate in how they were presented. Every detail about your look tonight felt curated–not in a fake way, but in the kind of way that said I know exactly what I’m doing to you. And Bob? Poor Bob looked like he was under your spell.

He couldn’t stop looking.

Every time your drink got dangerously low and you leaned forward–elbows resting on the table, cleavage pressing softly together–you dragged the last sip from your straw with a slow, teasing pull that made something in him twist. He watched the way your lips curled around it, how a single droplet of condensation slid down the side of the glass and clung to your fingers. He was transfixed.

You laughed at something the waitress said–he didn’t even register what–and it echoed in his chest like a bell. That sound always got to him.

And tonight, he wasn’t hiding it. Not well, anyway.

His eyes kept drifting–over your mouth, the curve of your collarbone, the smooth stretch of your exposed shoulders, down to the shadowed dip between your breasts. Then he’d catch himself and flick his gaze up like he could undo what he just saw. Like he was trying to remind himself that he respected you too much to stare, even though he’d been staring for months.

He was trying so hard to be polite. His hands were clenched in his lap, fingers tangled and twitching like they were holding back something much stronger than impulse. His posture was rigid, like his own body was betraying him one muscle at a time.

He was always like that around you–reserved, yes. But it wasn’t just shyness. It was respect. Fear. Like every thought he had about you was too big to name out loud. Like if he touched you, he’d never forgive himself for crossing that line.

But he’d already crossed it, hadn’t he? Not physically–but emotionally, because Bob Reynolds had been in love with you for a long, long time.

And you knew it.

You saw it in the way he always noticed when you were tired after a mission, the way he made you tea without asking, or stayed behind in training sessions he wasn’t even involved in just so you’d have someone to spot you. You saw it in the way he flinched when someone else made you laugh, or how his voice went into a cracked whisper only when he said your name.

He was putty in your hands. And you loved it. Not because it gave you power–but because he let you have it. Because he trusted you with it.

And as much as the friendship meant to you–deeply, intimately–you’d stopped lying to yourself months ago. Your brain was always a few steps ahead, mapping the timeline of how you’d get from here–from this bar booth and his helpless eyes–to there. To a place where Bob Reynolds was no longer just your best friend, but something closer. Something that meant yours.

So you didn’t say anything. You just watched him.

Watched how his breath caught every time you shifted. How he wet his lips nervously when you leaned forward. How the pulse in his neck jumped like he could feel your eyes on him.

His fingers twitched again, folded too tight in his lap. You followed the motion, noted the way his knuckles went white.

There was a sheen of sweat on his temple now–barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, which you were.

And poor Bob didn’t even realize how obvious he was.

So you decided to make it worse for him.

You slipped off your shoe under the table and slowly–very slowly–ran your foot up the length of his shin. A gentle drag, barely a touch, but intentional. Controlled. The kind of touch that said I see you. And I want you flustered.

Bob jolted like you’d zapped him with a live wire.

His leg knocked the underside of the table with a hollow thunk, and his hand shot out, sloshing his Coke Zero just short of the edge. His knuckles were white around the glass. His jaw dropped slightly like he meant to say something but forgot what language was.

His cheeks–already pink from the warmth of the room and the low buzz that he was getting from just being around you–flushed deeply, the color spreading up his neck and painting his ears red. You swore even his throat blushed. He pushed his light brown hair out of his face nervously, like he was afraid it would cloud his vision of you.

You tilted your head, smirking. “Cold in here?”

He blinked like he’d just come out of a trance. His lashes fluttered rapidly over wide blue eyes–those eyes, impossibly pale and clear, glassy with surprise and something raw beneath it. Want, maybe. Or fear.

“Y-Yeah,” He stammered, voice cracking slightly. “A–A little drafty.”

“Mmm.” You stretched in your seat, arms rising lazily above your head, making sure the movement pulled the neckline of your bodysuit lower. The fabric shifted with you, stretching softly across your chest, exposing a bit more of the delicate skin he’d been trying so hard not to look at.

His gaze dropped like he didn’t even mean to let it.

And then he swallowed–hard–his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly in his throat.

But Bob didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His breathing had gone shallow, his tongue caught against the roof of his mouth like he’d forgotten how to form words. He looked like he was choking on air.

You didn’t let up.

Your foot moved again–slow, deliberate, and this time it brushed higher, just right on the inside of his thigh, where the heat of his body was more noticeable. Where he was trembling.

His breath hitched instantly, and a soft, involuntary sound escaped him–a sharp exhale, half-panic, half-arousal. His fingers dug into the wooden edge of the booth like he was bracing for impact.

You leaned forward again, closing some of the distance between you, letting your arms rest on the table and your chest push together ever so slightly in the low light. He couldn’t look away.

“You’ve been looking at me like that all night, Bob,” You said, your voice velvet-soft, the tone curling up his spine.

His head snapped up like you’d struck him–eyes wide and wild with guilt, pupils dilated in the low light. His brows pinched upward with alarm, his mouth parting in a panicked breath.

“I… I didn’t mean to–” He rushed out, but it came out broken.

You reached across the space between you, wrapping your hand around his wrist before gently cutting him off

“I want you to look.”

He froze.

His whole body went still, like he was afraid to breathe. His eyes–so ocean-bright and boyishly soft–flicked over your face with disbelief, feeling your thumb run over the exposed skin of his wrist.

You smiled at him again, slower this time. Not to tease. But to reassure.

“I like that it’s you,” You said, your voice dipping into something quiet and unshakably sincere.

He blinked, slow and stunned. His lashes cast little shadows under the low-hung light, and you saw the exact moment something cracked in his chest.

“You’re the only one,” You continued, “Who’s never looked at me like I’m a game to win. Or a body to take. You look at me like I’m something you’re afraid to break. Like I’m something you cherish.”

His lips parted again–slightly dry, slightly trembling.

And you saw it. The shimmer in his eyes. That wide, overwhelmed expression he wore when you said something that hit too close to the truth. He looked like he might cry. Or faint. Or bolt. But instead…He stayed.

Frozen, but present.

You reached for your drink again with your free hand and took the last sip, dragging the straw into your mouth with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact.

Bob’s eyes tracked every inch of the motion. You could see the subtle twitch in his jaw, the little hitch in his shoulders, like he was physically holding himself back.

Then you licked a drop from your bottom lip.

And that did him in.

His breath faltered again, and his eyes–so blue, so open, so obviously in love with you–looked at you like he’d forgotten where he was. Like the world had narrowed down to just your lips, your voice, your body framed in shadow and gold light.

You tilted your head, gaze gentle now. That look you always gave him when he was spiraling. When he needed to know he was safe. That he was wanted.

He looked like he didn’t deserve it.

But you knew better.

And finally, after a long, shaky breath–his lashes fluttering like he was about to pass out—he leaned forward.

His voice barely rose above the din of the bar, cracked and breathless and close enough to touch.

“I…I think about y–you.”

The words came out like a confession. Like a sin.

He didn’t stop.

“More than I should,” He said, gaze darting to the table, then back up again like it physically hurt him to hold your eyes. “More than…What’s okay.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t interrupt. You let him say it.

“I just…” His throat worked again. “If I ever got to touch you–I don’t think I’d want to stop.”

Your chest ached at how sincerely he meant it. Like it wasn’t just about sex. Like it was everything, like it meant everything.

Your hand on his wrist slid down so your palm was over his, feeling the warmth of him–the quiet trembling, the softness of his skin.

“Bob,” You said softly. “What would you do if I didn’t want you to stop?”

His lashes fluttered at you–confused, hopeful, scared–but he didn’t pull away, not like he would normally. If anything, he leaned in like you had said something that brought him closer.

Your hand stayed where it was, palm against palm, but your fingers began to move–softly tracing the lines in his hand like you were reading him. Like you were studying a map only you had permission to follow. You let your fingertip trail along the length of his lifeline, then up the curve of his thumb, dipping gently between the web of his fingers. He flinched–barely–but you felt it. Saw the way his breath shuddered quietly through his nose, the way his fingers twitched like they wanted so badly to close around yours but didn’t quite dare.

He was holding himself back.

Even now, even here.

Your gaze lifted, meeting his–they were wide and glossy, pupils blown wide now, eating away at the blue, and there was something deeply aching in the way he looked at you. Like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment in case it vanished.

“Don’t look at me like that,” You murmured, your thumb ghosting over the calloused edge of his ring finger. “Like you’re not allowed to want this.” Bob swallowed hard–again. It was the only thing he could do that didn’t give him away. His breath stuttered. His fingers twitched. His mouth opened like he might say something, but no words came.

He looked at you like you were everything he’d ever prayed for and was terrified to touch.

You watched the war inside him–want versus restraint. It played out in the flicker of his lashes, the shake in his hand, the tension braced through his shoulders like he was trying to keep himself from combusting.

So you let go of his hand, and moved your foot away from his inner thigh.

For a heartbeat, his face dropped–just a flicker of devastation in his expression.

Until you stood up, and moved around the table.

Bob’s head turned like he couldn’t believe you were really coming to him, like some part of him had convinced himself this was all a hallucination brought on by too many Coke Zeros–cause he couldn’t drink–and too many nights thinking about your hands, your mouth, and your voice in his ear. But then you slid into the booth beside him, your thigh pressing flush to his. He was still frozen, spine straight, hands in his lap like they might betray him if he moved them. Your perfume radiated off of you, the one that you always modestly sprayed on yourself, the one that he loved sneaking in your room to smell when you weren’t at the compound or out on a mission–the one that smelled like sugar, berries, and ripe oranges, like a succulent dessert…Made just for him.

You leaned in slowly, brushing your arm against him. You didn’t have to look at him, you didn’t have to…You knew he was already looking at you, or trying to look at you.

When he was finally able to feel your hot breath curl over his cheek he could immediately smell the pineapple juice on your tongue. It made him want to lean in right then and there just to get a taste, just to suck the essence off of it, to drink from you, but he needed to hold himself back, to stay in control of himself before he did something prematurely.

Then–with the grace of an angel–you reached up and touched him.

Your fingers found the side of his jaw, the pads of them smoothing against his freshly shaven cheek, tilting his face gently toward you. He followed the motion like a man possessed–like you had pulled him by a leash tied to his soul. He closed his eyes at the sensation, parting his lips slightly to take in a small breath–a quiet plea.

Slowly, you leaned in, your mouth resting just close enough to graze his ear, and you whispered–low, and sultry:

”Every time I touch myself, I imagine it’s you…” Bob shattered. A noise escaped him–broken and breathless. A half-gasp, half-whimper that he couldn’t contain if he tried. His body went tense beside you, his thigh flexing under yours, his fingers twitching like they were about to snap.

But you didn’t stop there.

“I imagine your fingers,” You murmured, your lips brushing his ear, “Big and clumsy and desperate, the way they always look when you’re nervous. I imagine them moving inside me while I ride your hand, while I beg you to kiss me like you mean it.” Bob exhaled–hard. His jaw clenched under your touch, his breath fogging hot against your forearm. You could feel how close he was to breaking–how close he was to falling apart in front of a whole bar full of people he couldn’t even look at in the eyes. Your fingertips moved slowly across his cheek, your nails didn’t scratch–they ghosted, mapped, and worshipped. You traced the slope of his cheekbone, then slid down to the soft dip beside his mouth, like you were learning his face the way others learn scripture.

Bob was unraveling. Every word from your mouth was gasoline on the fire he’d been trying to smother for months. His breath caught in his chest like a prayer that didn’t know how to end, and he stared at you—lips parted, lashes trembling–like he couldn’t tell if this was heaven or the moment before he burned.

And then your other hand came to rest on his shoulder, grounding him–and pushing him closer to the edge all at once.

He was breathing too hard now. Too fast. His chest rising in shallow, shaking swells. And all he could do was sit there, hands fisted in his lap, as you leaned in and whispered into his ear again–closer this time, like you were whispering to his soul.

“I think about tasting you,” You said softly. “So achingly slow, until you lose your mind.”

Bob’s knees went weak beneath the table. He didn’t even know how he was still upright. The only thing keeping him tethered to the earth was the press of your thigh against his, the weight of your palm on his shoulder and face, and the sound of your voice curling into his bloodstream like silk-wrapped sin.

He tried to speak–tried to gather some string of thought that could resemble language–but all he managed was a broken, desperate breath. “I–” He rasped, his voice shredded at the edges.

But you didn’t let him finish.

You shushed him. Gently. Sweetly. Your thumb swept across his cheek.

“Don’t,” You murmured, so close your lips touched his ear, “Don’t talk. Just feel it.”

And God, he felt it.

Every molecule of you.

The heat of your breath melting against his skin. The sweetness of your perfume, dizzying and intimate. The way your hands touched him like he was more than a body. Like he was a secret. A sacred thing you’d been aching to unwrap.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to move, to reach for you, but he didn’t dare–not unless you asked for it. He’d give you anything, everything, but he didn’t want to take a single thing you didn’t offer first.

Still, he couldn’t help it–his head tilted toward your touch, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth parted in something so tender it almost hurt to witness. His throat flexed as he swallowed another breath that wouldn’t steady.

You moved even closer–until your mouth nearly brushed his. Until the distance between you was a lie.

“I want to make you lose control,” You whispered. “I want to feel how much you’ve been holding back.”

That did it.

Bob’s whole body trembled under your hands–his restraint hanging by a thread, his jaw clenched like he was trying not to whimper. He turned his head slowly, just enough to look at you, and his eyes–those soft, wrecked, worshipful eyes–were completely undone.

“Y-You don’t know what you’re d-doing to me,” He breathed, but you smiled, soft and knowing.

“Then maybe we should go back to the compound so you could show me.” You whispered back, your thumb stroking the corner of his mouth like you’d been dying to touch him there. Bob’s breath hitched.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath your thumb like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to shape it into a sentence. His brow knit–tight, anxious–as if he were on the edge of a precipice and could already feel the wind pulling at his shirt.

“I…” His voice cracked. He turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing your palm, but his eyes–those trembling, desperate eyes–held yours like you were the only thing anchoring him to the floor. “I don’t… know w-what happens if I lose control…I h-haven’t had s-sex since before the S-Sentry serum…”

Your chest softened at the vulnerability in his tone–raw, boyish, torn straight from the deepest part of him.

“I’ve felt it before. The…Shift. T-That moment before it gets too much.” His throat worked hard around the next words. “The Sentry, he–he comes through w-when I feel too much. When I want too much. A-And I want you so badly it terrifies me.”

Your thumb stroked over his jaw again, slow and reverent, like you were trying to soothe the trembling just beneath his skin. He didn’t pull away.

“Bob,” You whispered, voice like velvet heat, “I’m not scared of him.”

His breath caught, but you didn’t stop.

“I don’t care if the Sentry shows up. I don’t care if he tries to carry me off into the sky or crack the moon in half because I kissed you too hard.” You smiled gently, your nose brushing his. “Because it’s still you. All of it. The fear, the ache, the power–none of it changes the fact that it’s your heart underneath. And I want all of it. I want all of you.”

His eyes fluttered shut, lashes wet. His chest heaved like he’d just exhaled something he’d been holding in for years. Like you’d opened a dam inside him and now he couldn’t stop it–he didn’t want to anyways.

“Y-You don’t know w–what that means to me,” He whispered, voice trembling like glass on the verge of breaking. “To not be t-the golden boy in your eyes…To just b-be me.”

You leaned in then–so close he could taste your breath, taste the sweetness of pineapple and something far more sacred.

“You were never a monster,” You said, lips brushing his. “You’re the kindest thing I’ve ever touched.”

And that broke something open in him.

His shoulders sagged forward, like a weight had slid off them, and he pressed his forehead to yours, his hands finally–finally–lifting from his lap to ghost up your sides, hesitant and aching. You felt the way they trembled as they settled on your waist, as if touching you too firmly might shatter the moment.

But you didn’t shatter. You melted. Right into him.

“Take me home,” You whispered, your hand curling around the back of his neck. “And let me be yours.”

Bob let out a shaky breath–half-sob, half-surrender–and nodded.

“O–Okay…”

—————————————

The moment the two of you stepped out of the elevator and the doors slid shut behind you, the weight of what was about to happen descended over you like dusk spilling into a quiet room–slow and golden and thick with gravity. It wrapped around your shoulders, soaked into your skin. Each step down the quiet hallway felt amplified, padded in the hush of possibility. The compound, usually so full of voices and footfalls, now felt sacred. Empty in a way that invited something tender to unfold.

You glanced over at Bob beside you–his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff beneath his shirt like he didn’t know how to hold his own body anymore. His eyes flicked toward you, then away again. You could see it in the twitch of his fingers, in the slow rise and fall of his breath: he was fighting the urge to run and the urge to fall into you all at once.

“Whose room?” You asked softly, your voice barely more than a breath as you stopped just shy of your doors, which were across from one another.

Bob turned to face you, and for a moment he just looked at you. Really looked. As if the question was too big to answer all at once. But then he shook his head and murmured, without hesitation, “Yours.”

Your brows lifted a fraction, surprised by the immediacy of it.

His voice came again, quieter now, barely able to hold its own weight: “I want to be surrounded by everything that’s you.”

And God, he meant it. You could see it all over his face–that quiet, overwhelmed awe. That whisper of longing woven into his breath. Like being near you wasn’t just about want–it was about safety.

You opened your door with a hush of hinges and warmth poured out–soft and golden like it had been waiting for you both. Bob hesitated on the threshold just for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to step into something so intimate. But you reached back and curled your fingers around his, pulling him through gently, and he followed without a sound.

Your room welcomed him like a heartbeat.

The lights were low, softened to a muted amber by the shade of your bedside lamp, and the shadows cast across the walls were familiar, worn-in. The kind of quiet you could only earn by living in a space long enough to leave parts of yourself tucked into the corners.

There were little signs of you everywhere.

A cardigan draped over the back of your chair, still shaped by your shoulders. A couple mismatched mugs on the windowsill, half-full of dried flowers and pens that had long since run out of ink. A battered paperback with your thumb pressed into the spine, abandoned on the edge of the bed. The faintest scent of that sugary sweet skin-warm perfume. He could taste it in the silence.

And then there was the window.

It stretched across nearly half the far wall, a wide mouth of glass looking out over the city, where the skyline pulsed like a living organism–silver and gold lights blinking in lazy succession, cars reflecting off the windows threading down the streets like blood through veins. Bob walked toward it like he was drawn by gravity itself, like it called to the aching part of him that had spent too long looking at the world from above and never this close.

His reflection caught in the tall mirror near the bed–a fractured echo of himself, backlit by the skyline, a man made of longing and light. If he laid down, he realized, he’d be able to see you both in that mirror. Your bodies. Your faces. The way you might look reaching for each other.

He swallowed hard.

Behind him, you closed the door.

The soft click of it sealing shut sent a shiver down his spine–final and quiet and full of promise. He turned toward you, and that’s when he saw you undoing your leather jacket, slow and unhurried. The matte black of it peeled away from your shoulders like a second skin, and the way you moved–fluid, unfazed, and sure–made the air around him feel charged, like static clinging to cotton.

You stood in front of him now, illuminated by citylight and the low lamplight behind you. The bodysuit clung to your frame, catching the warm glow across your collarbones, your throat, the tender curve of your chest. You shrugged the jacket the rest of the way off, and it hit the floor with the softest thud.

Bob was frozen in place. Watching you like a man watching lightning hit the ocean.

He looked around your room again, slower this time. You saw it in his eyes–how he drank in the soft mess of your sheets, the collection of little rings in a porcelain dish, the stack of notes taped to your wall with scribbled to-dos and song lyrics and scraps of thought. It was chaotic and real and you, and he loved every single thing about it.

You were standing so close now that he could feel the warmth radiating off of your skin. The glow of your room wrapped around the two of you like a whispered secret.

You tilted your head slightly and whispered, “You okay?”

And Bob–whose hands were clenched at his sides, whose chest was rising like a tide he couldn’t hold back–nodded, barely. His voice was a whisper scraped raw:

“I-I don’t think I’ve ever been t-this okay.”

Your smile broke like a sunrise, and you reached up for him, touching his face. Just your fingertips at first, featherlight against the edge of his jaw, your thumb brushing along the corner of his mouth like it was something precious to you. Bob’s breath stilled at the contact, lips parting slightly, his chest fluttering with anticipation. He leaned into your palm like a man starved for warmth, even though he was burning up as he stood in front of you.

You pulled him gently toward you.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t desperate. It was something softer—something built from all the times you’d brushed hands in passing, or caught him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking. It was built from every whispered laugh, every longing silence, every moment the world made you ache for one another without saying a thing.

And now it was here. Finally.

Bob bent to meet you, slow and hesitant, his breath brushing yours like a question. Your noses bumped slightly, awkward and tender, and he let out the smallest nervous laugh—one you swallowed as you tilted your chin and brought your lips to his.

The first kiss was a hum. A hush. A held breath.

His lips were soft, unsure at first, warm and slightly parted like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to kiss you back–until he did. Until he melted into it. You felt the exact moment the tension in his shoulders unraveled, when he stopped hovering on the edge and let himself fall. His arms came around your waist–slowly, carefully–as if he was still afraid to hold too tightly.

But he did hold you.

God, did he hold you.

One hand splayed wide against the small of your back, the other settling higher, thumb grazing the edge of your exposed skin where your bodysuit dipped low. His palm was hot. Too hot. Like he was burning just from touching you, and yet couldn’t bring himself to pull away. The feel of your skin against his fingertips made his knees go weak.

You kissed him deeper.

Not rushed, not rough–just more. More pressure. More presence. You tilted your head and sighed softly into him, and Bob exhaled like you’d opened a door in his chest he didn’t know had been locked. His mouth was gentle but eager, tasting you in little swells, lips moving with hesitant gentleness as if trying to memorize the shape of you. He breathed you in like you were air after drowning.

You pulled back slightly–not apart, just enough to rest your forehead to his. The two of you stood there in that golden hush, breathing each other’s breath. Bob’s chest rose and fell against yours, and you felt it–every tremble. Every ounce of his restraint.

He looked at you with eyes half-lidded and dazed, lips flushed and glistening from your kiss–and from the remnants of your lip glass–the faintest tremor in his breath like he couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

Your voice was soft, just above a whisper. “Still okay?”

He let out a broken laugh–full of wonder, full of you–and nodded.

You leaned in again–gentler this time, slower–not because you were unsure, but because you wanted to savor the way his breath hitched when your lips brushed his. You wanted to draw it out. To feel every shiver he tried and failed to suppress.

Bob met you halfway with a soft, aching sound–something between a sigh and a whisper of your name. His hands flexed slightly at your waist, his fingers pressing just a little deeper into the curve of you. You felt how he trembled. Not because he didn’t want this. But because he wanted it so much he was afraid he might burst.

You kissed him again–deeper, slower this time, mouth parting just enough to taste him. His lips were warm and sweet with nerves, and he kissed like someone who had thought about this a thousand times but never believed it would happen. There was a reverence to it, a hush in the way he moved his mouth against yours, like he was still halfway convinced he might wake up at any moment.

Your hands left his face, drifting down–slow, steady, and full of quiet intention. You traced the slope of his neck, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse, then down the broad plane of his chest. You felt every breath he took, shallow and aching, beneath the soft cotton of his sweater.

Bob, always layered like he needed something between himself and the world, was wrapped in a slightly oversized charcoal crewneck, its fabric thinned from wear and faintly scented like detergent and something uniquely him. Beneath it, you could feel the ridges of another layer–a t-shirt, soft and well-worn, probably one he slept in or hid in on quiet mornings when the world was too loud.

You slid your hands beneath the hem of the sweater and pushed upward, your palms skimming the warm skin of his stomach as the fabric lifted. Bob made a quiet, broken sound into your kiss–like the feeling of your hands on his skin short-circuited something vital inside him. He froze for a moment, his breath catching like he wasn’t sure he could survive the sensation.

You pulled back just far enough to speak, your lips brushing his. “Can I?”

His nod was immediate. Frantic. “Y-Yeah. God, yeah.”

So you tugged the sweater up slowly, watching the way his arms lifted, watching the exposed inch of his abdomen rise with it–the pale skin dusted with soft little beauty marks, the gentle definition carved by years of holding tension. As the fabric cleared his chest, he flinched slightly, sucking in a breath like cold air had touched him, though your hands were warm.

He helped you the rest of the way, dragging the sweater and t-shirt off over his head with trembling fingers, slipping away like the last layer of armor. And then he was bare from the waist up, bathed in citylight and lamplight, all golden and blushing and unsure.

He stood there, chest bare and breathless, as if you’d peeled back the sky and found the sun trembling underneath.

Bob’s body wasn’t sculpted in the way of soldiers or statues. It was something softer, something more human. But there was strength in it, undeniable–earned. It was the kind of build that came from holding onto things that were out of his control. Broad shoulders that carried guilt and gentleness in equal measure. A solid chest dusted with faint hair and the occasional mark of time–tiny clusters of faded scars, blemishes, and bruises the world had forgotten but his skin remembered.

His collarbones were sharp under the golden lamplight, framed by muscle that swelled and dipped like lines in a poem you wanted to memorize. His arms, strong and thick, looked like they were made to hold someone through the storm–and right now, they twitched faintly at his sides like he didn’t know how to be held himself. There were scattered freckles on his biceps, a pale crescent scar on one rib that curved like the moon, and small, raised knots near the shoulder from training or trauma–you weren’t sure which. Maybe both.

He looked like a map of ache and effort and quiet resilience.

And you adored every inch of him.

You stepped forward slowly and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest–just over his sternum. His breath stuttered at the contact, sharp and startled, like he’d never been kissed there before. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe no one had thought to.

You trailed your fingers down the plane of his stomach, the muscle there tense and trembling, then lower–toward the waistband of his pants. They were a pair of charcoal slacks, slightly loose around his waist, cinched just right at the hips, but soft and comfortable like he’d chosen them to blend in. Like he’d never expected to be undressed in them.

Your fingers hovered over the button, and you looked up at him. Bob nodded once–barely, but enough–and you slipped the button free. His breath hitched, and his hands flexed at his sides again like he didn’t know what to do with them.

You dragged the zipper down slowly, deliberately, your eyes never leaving his. He looked dazed–like he was being unwrapped for the very first time, and the air itself might sear him.

The fabric fell down his thighs with a soft whisper, pooling at his feet, before he moved out of them, kicking his shoes off in the process.

Bob stood in front of you in nothing but his black boxer-briefs, backlit by the shimmer of the skyline and the amber hum of your bedroom lamp. His chest rose and fell like the sea—steady, but stirred by undercurrent. His eyes hadn’t left you since you touched him. Not once.

And now, it was his turn.

He lifted his hands slowly, reverently, like he was reaching out to something holy. His palms hovered over your hips, not quite touching, until you gave him the smallest nod. That was all he needed.

His fingertips brushed the waistband of your shorts, undoing the golden button in the front of them.

You kicked off your shoes, one at a time, and let the silence stretch between you as he hooked his fingers through the belt loops–slow, hesitant, like he was afraid of doing too much too quickly. He eased them down your legs inch by inch, watching the fabric surrender to gravity. You stepped out of them delicately, and for a beat, he just stood there, looking at you like he didn’t know how to survive the sight of you standing in nothing but that black bodysuit and a pair of simple underwear.

He swallowed hard.

His hands returned to your sides, smoothing over the dip of your waist where the fabric clung tight. You watched his throat flex as his eyes flicked over you—your curves, your bare legs, the way your body caught the light like it had been painted for his gaze alone.

When he moved to the clasp of your bodysuit, his fingers trembled. You could feel it. The concentration in him. The hesitation. Like he was unhooking something precious, something secret.

You reached up and touched his jaw gently. “It’s okay,” You whispered.

And Bob, poor, wrecked Bob, nodded like he needed your permission to breathe.

The clasp gave with a soft snap. The bodysuit loosened instantly, slackening at your shoulders. His eyes met yours again, searching, silent, and then he helped ease the fabric down your arms, over your chest–slowly, like he was undressing a memory he wanted to savor for the rest of his life.

You stood there, bare from the waist up.

Bathed in citylight and lamplight. Breasts soft and exposed, skin flushed and dappled in gold. Your breath was steady, open, trusting.

And Bob… Bob stared like he’d never seen anything so sacred. His lips parted. His chest rose, shallow and quiet, as his eyes drifted over every inch of you—your collarbones, the curve of your sternum, the soft line of your stomach. His hands didn’t touch right away. He just looked. Like the act of looking was too intimate already.

But when he did touch you–finally, gently–his hands moved with such aching care. They rose to cradle your waist, thumbs brushing just below your ribs. You watched his pupils expand, the breath he tried to hold leaking out of him in slow, reverent exhales.

“You’re…” His voice cracked. He didn’t finish the sentence.

Because he didn’t have to.

You stepped into him again, bringing your bodies closer, the warmth of his skin against yours. Your breasts brushed his chest and he nearly gasped, his head dipping low, lips brushing your shoulder like he needed a place to put all this overwhelming wonder.

Bob’s lips were trembling against your skin before you even realized he’d moved. Gentle, searching–he kissed the place where your shoulder curved into your neck, just beneath your collarbone. His mouth was warm and wet, like each kiss was a vow he didn’t know how to speak aloud. He moved slowly, dragging his lips along your skin like he was painting devotion in brushstrokes–across the dip of your clavicle, up the slope of your throat, back to your jaw.

You let out the softest sigh. A sound full of breath and want. It made him shudder.

Your hand slid into his hair, curling at the nape of his neck, guiding him until his lips found yours again. This time the kiss felt hungrier–not in haste, but in depth. In need. Like the space between you could never be close enough. He kissed you with a kind of desperation laced in awe, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. And maybe you felt the same way, because your heart was stammering against your ribs, and the heat blooming between your thighs was dizzying.

You pulled back slowly, just enough to look into his eyes–flushed and wide and soft around the edges, pupils blown so far they nearly swallowed the blue whole.

“Come here,” You whispered, voice like silk unraveling in candlelight.

You took his hand and led him gently around the side of your bed, the sheets still rumpled from a day that no longer mattered. The mirror caught both of your reflections in passing–your bare back, his bare chest, the golden curve of lamplight gilding the two of you like you were something from a dream neither of you dared name.

“Lay down,” You said, and Bob obeyed without a word. He eased himself back across the mattress, exhaling like the air had been caught in his lungs for hours. The sheets crinkled beneath him, warm with your scent, his chest rising in uneven waves as he stared up at the ceiling like it held some sort of answer for how to survive this moment without coming apart entirely.

You climbed onto the mattress after him—slow, certain, fluid like breath moving into lungs. Bob turned his head just in time to see you crawl toward him, and God, the look on his face—pure wonder, trembling with reverence—made your heartbeat skip off rhythm.

You straddled him gently, knees bracketing his hips, your hands finding their way to his chest again, palms splayed flat over the warmth of him. You felt the stutter of his breath beneath your touch, the tight coil of tension building under your thighs.

He looked up at you like you were everything.

You bent down and kissed him again—deeper this time. Your lips claimed him slow and full, your mouth parting just enough to taste his sigh as it melted into yours. One of his hands slid up your thigh, barely daring to grip, while the other cupped your hip like he was anchoring himself.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard and hot, nestled beneath you. The growing swell of him pressed against the soaked fabric of your underwear, separated from your heat only by the thin stretch of your panties and his boxers. He groaned softly into your mouth, the sound involuntary, and it made your whole body pulse with want.

You rolled your hips forward–just once, a slow grind–and Bob gasped. His head tipped back, throat arched, lips parted as his eyes fluttered shut. His fingers tightened on your waist as if bracing against the force of it.

You did it again–deliberately, letting your clothed center slide against the length of him. The friction was hot, barely enough, almost unbearable in its precision. You could feel the tremor in his thighs, the desperate way his breath stammered in his chest.

“O-Oh m-my,” He whispered, almost like a prayer. “You’re…Oh God–”

You smiled softly against his cheek, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “You feel that?”

He nodded, barely, eyes dazed.

“I’m soaked,” You whispered, dragging your hips once more, pressing down just enough to make him bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut, “And it’s all for you…” You kissed the line of his jaw And then you started to move down.

His hands twitched when you kissed his throat—soft, slow, trailing heat with your mouth as you shifted backward, kissing lower, following the pulse at his neck to the center of his chest. You paused there, pressed your lips to the spot where his heart beat fastest.

He stared down at you, dazed and helpless and holy.

You kept going.

Kissed his sternum. The soft dip beneath it. The slight rise of his stomach where the muscles tightened beneath your breath. Your mouth was tender, open, slow as silk. You licked a soft line down his abdomen and felt him shiver violently. His hands moved into your hair without thinking, not pulling–just holding.

Just needing something to hold.

You reached the waistband of his boxer-briefs, and looked up.

His lips were parted, his cheeks pink with heat, his pupils huge and swallowing. He nodded without needing to be asked, lifting his hips slightly as you hooked your fingers into the band and drew it down—inch by inch, like you were unwrapping a gift meant only for you.

Bob was flushed, hard, and trembling. His cock stood against the plane of his stomach, thick and aching and already leaking from the tip. You watched the way it twitched when the cool air touched it, watched how he tried to stifle a gasp and failed.

“O-Oh god,” He breathed, like it physically hurt. “I don’t–I don’t even k-know what to do with myself–”

“You don’t have to do anything,” You murmured, pressing a kiss to the sharp line of his hip. “Just let me take care of you.” His breath hitched–shallow and wild–and his hands gripped the sheets.

And then you bent your head.

And licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the length of him–base to tip.

Bob choked on a gasp, hips jolting before he stilled himself with sheer force of will. His hands flew to his forehead like he was trying to cover his eyes, but he couldn’t stop watching.

You flattened your tongue along the underside of him again slowly feeling the way he twitched under your touch, the way his breath hitched like it was caught in the delicate space between need and disbelief.

His hand found yours blindly–grasping, desperate for something to hold on to. You laced your fingers with his without hesitation, anchoring him as you opened your mouth and took him in.

The weight of him on your tongue was dizzying, intoxicating. He was warm and already leaking, the taste of him faintly salty as your lips sealed around him and began to move–slow, deliberate strokes of your mouth, your hand curled around the base of him in rhythm.

“Y-you’re…” His voice broke, breath catching, almost like a sob. “You’re really… Oh…”

The sound he made when you took him deeper went straight to your core. It was soft, wrecked–an overwhelmed whimper that made your thighs clench and heat spill low in your belly. You moaned around him, low and throaty, and he gasped your name like it physically stunned him.

You glanced up through your lashes and saw him–his head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in disbelief. His free hand was fisted in the sheets now, his chest rising and falling in frantic waves.

You hollowed your cheeks and twisted your wrist just slightly, dragging your mouth back and then sliding down again, slower this time. You could feel every tremor in his thighs, the way his hips flexed involuntarily and then stilled, fighting the instinct to thrust. He was trying so hard to be good for you. To be still. To savor.

You let your hand drift lower, stroking him in time with your mouth, the slick sounds of your lips meeting his flushed skin only driving you further into the heat building between your own legs. You could feel how wet you were through your panties—soaked from the way he whispered your name, from the way he whimpered when you gave him just a little more.

“Oh,” Bob whispered again, breathless. “You feel so good. I don’t… I didn’t... I…” You moaned softly again, taking him deeper, loving the way his voice cracked, the way his fingers squeezed yours like he was hanging on by a thread.

And you didn’t stop.

You licked and sucked and worshipped him, letting the tension build, letting him teeter right there on the edge. His legs were shaking now. His hips stuttered once, and then again.

“I—I think I’m gonna…” He gasped. “I don’t know if I can…P-Please don’t stop—please—please—”

You didn’t.

You kept going. Swirling your tongue around the tip, easing him deeper again, moaning softly just to feel the way it made his whole body jolt.

He came with a sound like he was breaking—high and soft and breathless. A shattered gasp of your name, followed by a long, trembling whine as he spilled into your mouth.

You swallowed it all. Every last drop.

And even then–you didn’t stop.

You licked him gently, slowly, carefully–savoring him through the aftershocks. His body twitched beneath you, overstimulated and undone, his voice going quiet and airy.

“I-it’s too much,” He breathed, eyes wide and wet with disbelief. “Oh God—it’s so much…”

You finally pulled back, lips glistening, your breath ragged. You kissed the inside of his thigh tenderly, then wiped the corner of your mouth with your fingers and gave him the softest smile.

Bob looked at you like you’d just handed him a piece of the universe he never thought he deserved.

You crawled back up the bed and laid beside him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder, letting your hand fall to the center of his chest. His heart was pounding beneath your palm, like it had forgotten how to slow down.

He turned to face you.

And then he kissed you–without thinking, without pause.

His mouth was hungry, lips moving against yours like he wanted to pour his gratitude and longing into every stroke of your tongue. You let out a soft hum into the kiss, and his hand found your waist, curling around you like he needed you against him. All of you. Bob kissed you like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

His hand tightened at your waist as he deepened the kiss, his mouth warm and earnest, his tongue slow against yours—like he was trying to memorize the taste of your breath and the taste of himself on your tongue. Then he shifted his weight just slightly, moving over you, and your body followed without hesitation.

He rolled smoothly, gently, so that your back met the mattress and his body hovered above yours. His thigh slid between yours, his chest flush to your own, and his face hovered just inches from yours–eyes wide and wild with something more than lust. Something closer to awe.

You let out a surprised giggle, breathless beneath him, one hand slipping up to brush back the messy strands of his light brown hair. It stuck up in every direction from your earlier touch, and now it framed his flushed face like a halo that couldn’t decide if it belonged to a saint or a sinner.

He gave a small, dazed laugh too, his lips curving in wonder as he looked down at you.

And then he murmured, soft as velvet:

“It’s your turn.”

His voice sent a shiver straight through you–because it wasn’t just desire in his tone. It was reverence. Like this was sacred. Like you were sacred.

He dipped his head and kissed your throat, slow and sweet, and you tilted your head to give him more. His hand slid up your side, warm and sure, until it cupped your breast. He paused there, looking at you–asking, even now. Even after everything.

You nodded, breath caught somewhere between your ribs.

And Bob leaned down to worship.

His mouth wrapped around the swell of your breast, lips so soft, tongue teasing the peak until it pulled a soft sound from the back of your throat. He groaned at the noise, like it physically did something to him. He kissed across your chest–open, adoring–then sucked gently at the other nipple, swirling his tongue in slow circles until your fingers curled in his hair. You felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin just around your nipple–just enough to make your breath hitch and your hips twitch slightly beneath him.

You gasped, soft and surprised, and his mouth pulled back with a small, wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His breath was warm against your damp skin, and then he exhaled slowly–cool air brushing across the nipple he’d just teased, and your whole body shivered in response.

Bob chuckled under his breath–low and breathless. Not cocky. Amazed. Like your reactions lit up something inside him he never even knew he needed.

Then he kept going.

His lips traced a winding path down your body–each kiss like a benediction pressed into skin. The slope of your ribs. The softness of your belly. The place just beneath your navel where you felt everything coil tight with anticipation.

You shifted slightly, drawing your knees up, thighs falling open to make space for him as he reached the waistband of your underwear. The fabric was soaked with you–already clinging, already begging to be removed. Bob looked up once, eyes wide and full of silent question, fingers brushing your hips.

You nodded. Your breath was caught somewhere behind your teeth, but your legs were already parting further, your spine already arching to help him slide them down.

He pulled the underwear off slowly, taking his time with you, watching the way the fabric peeled away from your slick heat. Your body practically glistened in the amber light, folds swollen and flushed with need. He swallowed thickly, the sound audible even in the hush of your room, and let the underwear fall to the floor like a silk offering.

Bob settled between your thighs like he’d found the center of the universe.

His hands slid up the insides of your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin as he leaned forward, mouth trailing open kisses along the tender flesh–first one thigh, then the other. You twitched at the contact, gasping as his lips dragged up the curve of your leg, warm and wet and wanting. He paused just at the crease where thigh met hip, and then–without warning–bit gently, sucking until the skin flushed pink and bloomed with a bruise.

Bob smiled into your skin. “S–Sorry,” He murmured, clearly not sorry at all, his voice thick with breath and worship. “N–Needed to leave s-something to remember me b-by.”

And then–finally–he kissed your core.

His tongue swiped through your folds in one long, slow motion, and your whole body jolted like he’d reached inside your chest and rung out your soul. You felt the flat press of his tongue against your clit, the deliberate drag upward, the way his lips wrapped around you and sucked–soft, rhythmic, maddening.

Your back arched off the bed.

Your hand flew down and found his wrist–one of the hands bracing you open–and you held onto it like a lifeline, anchoring yourself to the feeling. His other hand splayed across your stomach, warm and grounding, fingers spread wide over trembling muscles.

He licked you again–deeper now. More intentional. His tongue moved like he was mapping you, learning every reaction, every twitch, every soft cry like it was sacred text. He flicked the tip of his tongue in slow, focused circles, then flattened it again, pressure building just right, just there–

“Fuck—Bob,” ¥ou breathed, voice high and frayed. “Jesus Christ…”

He moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your body and sending another jolt through your spine.

And then you tilted your head back.

The mirror caught everything.

Your body sprawled across the bed–glowing, undone, your knees spread wide and your hair wild pointing every which way. Bob’s shoulders bracketed your thighs, his face buried between them, dark hair mussed and damp with sweat and your slick. You saw the way your stomach rose and fell beneath his hand, how your hips bucked slightly with each flick of his tongue.

And then–God–

You looked down at him.

And he was looking up at you.

Eyes glassy and wide, pupils blown with hunger. His mouth was still moving, still lapping at you with slow swirls–but his gaze stayed locked on yours like it anchored him. His brow was pinched in concentration, his cheeks flushed, his lips glistening.

It was intimate in a way that felt deeper than skin. Like he was beholding you, not just touching you. Like the act of pleasuring you was its own kind of worship–and he couldn’t look away from the way your body bloomed beneath him.

You whimpered, your hand tightening around his wrist.

He groaned softly, and the sound reverberated through you.

And then–without breaking eye contact–he slid two thick fingers inside you.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent gasp, spine arching. The stretch was slow, sweet, perfect. He curled them just right, finding that place inside you that made your breath stutter and your thighs twitch.

“Y-Yeah,” he rasped against your core, voice hoarse, lips brushing your clit between licks. “There. T-That’s it, I–I feel you…”

You clenched around them while his tongue kept moving—never stopping. His fingers pumped slow and deep, curling with every pass, and your legs started to shake.

The sight in the mirror was unholy–your head thrown back, his mouth buried between your legs, fingers working you open while your body writhed beneath him.

“Bob—Bob I’m gonna—”

“I–I know,” He whispered. “I’ve got you..Y-Y/N.”

With a sharp cry and a desperate buck of your hips, you came–shattering like glass under floodlight. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, your thighs trembling against his shoulders, your hand crushing his wrist as you pulsed around him.

Bob didn’t stop until you whined, breathless and broken, hips twitching from oversensitivity. Even then, he pulled back slowly, mouth flushed, chin slick with you. He pressed one last kiss to your thigh, and looked up at you again.

Completely wrecked.

Completely in awe.

You let out a laugh of disbelief–shaky, breathless, still caught in the afterglow of everything Bob had just pulled from you. Your body was humming, twitching with sensitivity, your thighs trembling around nothing now as he lifted his head from between them.

Bob looked like he had just witnessed a modern day miracle, a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

Then he started to move slowly, crawling back up your body on his elbows, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your skin as he went. The curve of your hip. Your stomach, still fluttering beneath the aftershocks of your orgasm. Each kiss was a brushstroke of heat and devotion, like he wanted to taste every inch of what he’d done to you.

When he reached your chest, he paused, nuzzled into the soft swell of your breast and pressed the gentlest kiss there too. Then higher–your collarbone, your throat, the corner of your jaw. You turned your head slightly and met him as his mouth finally reached yours again.

The kiss was warm, a little messy, but full of affection. Your taste was still on his lips, and he didn’t hide it–he kissed you like he wanted you to know he’d savor every drop.

“Y-You’re unreal,” He mumbled against your cheek. And then he gave a shy, breathless laugh. “I think I–I forgot how to breathe.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through the soft mess of his hair, and he leaned into the touch like it grounded him.

“I’m already ready again,” He admitted sheepishly, pressing his forehead to yours. You felt it him hard and warm again between your thighs, flush against your soaked center. Your breath hitched.

But then Bob hesitated. You felt it in the shift of his weight, the tremor in his next breath.

“We could leave it at that for tonight,” He said softly. His voice was a whisper of restraint, even though his hips twitched against yours like his body was begging him not to stop. “If you don’t want to have sex—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You kissed him–deep and sure and full of heat.

When you pulled back, your voice was firm and breathless. “I want you.”

Bob’s eyes widened slightly, lips still parted in surprise. “S-Should I run and grab a condom?” You tilted your left arm back slightly, resting it behind your head on the mattress, and with your free hand, pointed to the small, barely visible scar just beneath the skin of your inner arm.

“Implant,” You said softly. “We’re good.” His breath caught audibly and his hand hovered near your arm for a second, then settled gently over it–thumb brushing once over your skin.

“Y-You’re sure?” He asked, voice low and rough, like he couldn’t bear to assume. Like he was terrified of doing the wrong thing when he finally had the chance to do this right. You nodded, soft but certain, caressing his cheek gently.

”I’m sure.” Bob exhaled like it physically knocked the air from his lungs. Then he kissed you again–and this time, it was different.

There was no hesitation. No soft buildup. Just need and wonder colliding all at once.

His mouth crushed against yours, urgent and hungry, and you met him just as fiercely. Tongues brushed and tangled in wet, open kisses, teeth grazing lips, breath caught between mouths like smoke. You could feel the way he breathed you in between every kiss–little shaky exhales pressed into your cheeks, your jaw, your mouth–as if you were the air keeping him alive.

“God, y-you taste like heaven,” He murmured hoarsely into your mouth, and then kissed you again, harder.

You moaned against his lips, your body arching into his, and he groaned right back–his hand sliding from your hip to the side of your neck, fingers splayed out over your pulse point like he needed to feel the rhythm of you.

The head of his cock brushed against your slick entrance–hot and heavy and trembling with anticipation–and he froze just a moment, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were blown wide, lips flushed, chest rising and falling like a wave cresting.

He lined himself up with a breathless stammer of your name, “J-Just tell me i-if I do anything wrong okay?” You nodded–soft, breathless, legs flinching around him slightly as he started to push in–inch by inch. Your mouth dropped open around a gasp.

”Oh–“ You breathed, hips twitching up towards him, “Bob…” He bit his bottom lip hard, trying to hold it together, closing his eyes at the sensation of you slowly taking him in.

“You’re s-so warm,” He choked out, “I can feel all of you, I–”

And then he bottomed out, hips flush to yours, both of you trembling.

You were wrapped around him, stretched and full and gasping through the intensity of it, and Bob just hovered there, buried deep, his forehead resting against yours like he needed the anchor. You cupped his cheek, kissed him once–soft, shaky–and whispered,

“I need you to move…” He nodded at your request, dragging his hips back only to press in again with a quiet groan that vibrated against your chest. His thrusts weren’t rough—but they had weight. Depth. Like he couldn’t help but want to be as far inside you as he could get.

Each time he rocked forward, your bodies met with a soft, slick sound, heat rising like steam between your tangled limbs. He kissed you through it, messy and desperate, lips parting and pressing and dragging over yours like he never wanted to come up for air. You kissed him just as hard–your tongue sliding against his, teeth nipping his bottom lip, your hands gripping his shoulders like you didn’t want him to go anywhere.

Your fingers tangled into the back of his hair, tugging gently–not to pull him closer, but to hold. To ground. The strands were damp with sweat and heat, and he gasped into your mouth when you did it, his hips stuttering in response.

Bob groaned low and soft, the sound caught between reverence and ache. Then his hand slid up, warm and sure, and cupped the side of your throat—not tight, just enough to feel the flutter of your pulse beneath his palm. His thumb tilted your chin up, guiding your gaze back to him.

“L-Look at me,” He breathed, voice ragged with want. “I…I need to see you.”

You did. Eyes wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed and heated. You were so open for him, so undone and radiant in the lamplight–and it broke something in him, seeing you like this, needing him like this.

Then he hooked his arms under your knees and lifted.

The change in angle dragged a gasp from your throat so sharp it bordered on a cry. He slid deeper—so deep it felt like he was in your chest, like he was part of the ache and the breath and the heartbeat of you. Your mouth dropped open around a broken moan, and your eyes went glassy.

“F-Fuck,” You choked, your head falling back. “Bob–oh my God–”

Bob whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the sound of his name on your lips, by the clench of your body around him. His breath was hot and frantic, his face flushed and slack with awe.

“You feel…” He started, then trailed off, swallowing hard. “You feel s-so good–so warm–you’re perfect, I–” He kissed your cheek once. Then again. Then again, softer each time, like he couldn’t stop. Like he didn’t know how else to worship you.

And then, he saw it.

The mirror.

The two of you–tangled together, sweat-slicked and flushed with heat, your body curled around him like it was built to fit. His eyes snapped to it–and for a moment, he just stared. Breathless. Dazed. He could see the way your hands gripped his shoulders, the way your breasts bounced softly with each deep thrust. The sight of it–the raw, real closeness–wrecked him.

Your gaze flicked over his and followed where he was looking and you caught the reflection too.

“I want to watch us,” You whispered, breath ragged and full of heat. “Please.”

Bob’s breath caught hard. His hips stilled, his eyes wide, his mouth parting with something like awe and disbelief.

“Y-Yeah?” he stammered.

You nodded.

That was all it took.

He pulled out slowly–deliberately, as if the act of leaving your body was a loss he needed to mourn–and helped guide you onto your stomach, careful even through the haze of want. You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes fixed on your reflection, hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten.

He moved behind you, one knee between yours, and dragged his hand down the length of your spine in one long, aching stroke, watching goosebumps rise on your flesh before peppering a few kisses along the bare skin of your back. Then he gripped your hips and lined himself up again.

The first thrust back in was brutal in its beauty.

You let out a ragged groan–half gasp, half cry–as he sank back into you. The angle was different now. Deeper. Fuller. It felt like he was rooted inside you, like he could reach the very center of you.

Bob’s groan was wrecked.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “You’re so…This is…Y-You’re tight–so deep, I—”

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, and you felt the press of his mouth against the side of your neck–just beneath your ear. Then his arm slid around your neck from behind, not choking, not tight—just holding. Anchoring. His breath spilled hot across your skin, and he kissed your jaw again, reverently, trembling against you.

Your eyes locked in the mirror.

You. Spread out. Eyes heavy, mouth open, skin flushed and glowing. Bob–bare and trembling behind you, lips parted, face slack with wonder, arm curled protectively around you like he was trying to keep you from slipping away.

The reflection made your breath catch.

He looked just as wrecked as you felt.

“I’ve n-never…” He choked out, hips still rolling slow and deep, “Never seen anything so beautiful—so fuckin’ real–“ Your breath stuttered, your chest dragging in air like your lungs were trying to keep up with the sheer intimacy of his voice in your ear, his body inside you, the way his eyes stayed locked to yours in the mirror.

And then you turned your head.

Just a little.

Enough to find his lips.

Your mouths met in a kiss that shattered the edges of everything soft and safe. It wasn’t delicate this time. It was molten. You sucked gently on his tongue when he pushed into your mouth, and the noise Bob made was nearly inhuman–a muffled, desperate moan swallowed by your kiss.

The arm around your neck tightened just slightly, his palm flattening against your shoulder to hold you a little closer. He kissed you like he needed your breath to survive, and with every stroke of his tongue against yours, he thrust a little deeper, a little harder, losing the last shred of distance between you.

The sounds filled the room now.

Slippery, wet, rhythmic. The soft slap of skin meeting skin. Your gasps–broken, high, open. His moans–low, breathy, whispered things like “fuck” and “please” and your name like it was a prayer he’d never been brave enough to say out loud until now. The creak of the mattress. The rustle of the sheets. The hum of the city just outside the window, as if the whole world had gone quiet to listen.

His hips were moving faster now, not pounding but full of momentum. Urgency laced with awe. You felt every inch of him with every push, your body keening beneath him, his cock dragging against that tender spot inside you again and again.

And still–his mouth kept finding yours.

Messy kisses. Tongue and teeth and hot breath shared like something sacred. You whimpered into him, and he swallowed it, moaning in return, his pace growing more erratic with each roll of his hips.

“G-God,” he gasped into your mouth. “You feel so–so perfect–I c-can’t–” He pressed his forehead against yours, sweat-slick and shivering, his voice unraveling into something raw. “I’m gonna–Y/N–I c-can’t hold back–please come with me–please–”

You nodded, frantic, the pleasure building low in your spine like a storm. Your thighs trembled, your mouth fell open, and you barely managed a whispered, “Yes–yes, I’m close, Bob, I’m right there–”

His arm tightened around you again, holding you together as he watched your reflection–watched your mouth fall open, your eyes flutter shut, your body writhing beneath him.

“I see you,” He whispered. “I see you, I’ve got you, just–just let go, I’m right here–”

You did.

Your orgasm hit you so fast it felt like your entire body was going to give out. It was brilliant, consuming, and it had every nerve ending singing with heat. Your body pulsed around him, clenching and fluttering in frantic waves, and the cry that tore from your throat was almost too much to bear.

Soon after Bob twitched deep inside you, thick and hot, and you felt him spill–pulse after pulse of heat filling you, his hips jerking in short, erratic thrusts as he buried himself as far as he could go. His moan was wrecked–raw and full–and it tumbled from him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. It wasn’t loud. It was low. Shaky. The sound a man makes when he’s completely undone. A whimper edged with disbelief, like he was giving you the very last piece of himself.

And just then–like the world exhaled around you–you heard it.

A faint, hairline crack.

Barely a sound.

Your gaze flicked up, dazed and hazy through the aftermath, and there it was: a thin fracture running across the mirror. A small, pale lightning bolt etched in glass, splitting right where your bodies met in reflection.

You blinked.

And then you tightened your hold on him.

Your hand clutched at the arm that held you–his forearm still locked gently around your chest–and your other reached blindly to touch his shoulder. You turned your head just enough to feel the hot tremble of his breath against your skin, the way it stuttered and hitched through parted lips still struggling to return to earth.

His entire body was shaking against yours. Not violently–just overwhelmed. The way a dam trembles after it’s burst.

“Shh,” you whispered, kissing the edge of his cheek. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He moaned again–quiet this time, muffled against your skin, and full of something so deep it almost hurt. His arm loosened slightly from around your neck and slid lower, wrapping fully around your torso as he exhaled one long, shivering breath. His body collapsed slowly over yours, his chest pressed against your back, both of you trembling, covered in sweat and each other.

He didn’t pull out.

He couldn’t–not yet.

You could still feel him twitching softly inside you, still half-hard, still pulsing faintly from the intensity of it all. His cum was already starting to leak back down between your thighs, warmth slicking your folds, but neither of you moved to clean it up. Not yet.

He kissed your shoulder.

Then your neck.

Then the curve of your spine.

Each one slow and breathless. A vow, a thank you, a grounding touch.

You tilted your head back toward him, catching his lips with your own. The kiss was soft now. Lingering. Your mouths moved lazily together, wet and tender and full of exhaustion.

“Jesus,” He whispered against your mouth. “I–I didn’t mean to… I think I…”

“I know,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the damp nape of his neck. “I saw it.”

His breath caught. “I–I cracked the mirror, didn’t I?”

You nodded once, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Just a little.”

A silence stretched between you, warm and golden and full of breath.

Then he laughed–quiet and stunned–and buried his face into your shoulder again.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I–I didn’t mean to lose control.” You let out a soft sigh.

”It’s okay Bob…You were overwhelmed and feeling good…Let’s just hope Sentry is the one that gets seven years bad luck.” You both laughed–low and loose and breathless, the sound catching in the honey-thick air between your bodies. Bob’s chest vibrated softly against your back as he let out another stifled chuckle, nuzzling his nose into the space just beneath your ear.

“Only you,” He murmured, his voice warm and worn down, “C–Can make light of me literally c-cracking your mirror mid-orgasm.” You tilted your head slightly, grinning despite the ache still thrumming between your thighs.

“I mean… If you’re gonna break something,” You said, glancing back at him with a playful glint in your eyes, “At least it wasn’t my pelvis.”

That made him snort and he buried his face deeper into your shoulder, completely wrecked by laughter now. You felt the full ripple of it through his chest, the way his arms tightened around you just a little as if he could keep this moment stitched to the skin.

You turned your head, kissed him again–slow and sweet. No rush. Just the warm slide of lips and breath. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as he kissed you back with the kind of quiet that said I never want to stop doing this.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his voice rough with affection. “I should, uh… I should pull out.”

You nodded softly. “Okay.”

He moved slowly, gently easing out of you with a quiet gasp at the sensitivity. You both hissed a little–his from overstimulation, yours from the sticky stretch of release leaving your body. He lingered there for a beat, fingers brushing your hip, as if he hated the idea of not being connected to you anymore.

He stayed close even after he pulled out, one hand resting lightly on your lower back, the other brushing your hip like he needed to reassure himself you were still there. The room was warm, quiet, the mirror fractured but the world around you whole.

“W–We should get cleaned up,” He murmured, his voice still dazed but laced with care. “D–Do you wanna…Maybe shower? With me?” His fingers twitched gently where they touched your side. “Only if you want to. I just—I don’t really wanna let you go yet…”

Your heart melted.

You turned slowly beneath him, shifting onto your back so you could face him fully. His hair was damp with sweat, curling slightly at the ends, cheeks still flushed, lips swollen. But it was his eyes that undid you. Wide and soft and full of affection. Still a little glassy. Still glowing slightly from the shock of Sentry.

“Of course,” You whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair, a soft blush rose to his cheeks, as you leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose, “I kinda wanna be held under hot water for like…An hour. Minimum.”

Bob gave you the softest grin. “I-I can do that. I’m good at holding.” His tone was still tentative, but there was pride there too. A glimmer of purpose. “You’ll be the cleanest, most held person in the entire compound.”

You sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the soreness blooming in your thighs and core. Bob immediately reached to steady you, his hands finding your waist, his brows pinched in concern.

“I’m okay,” You promised him with a soft smile, “Just a bit sore.”His ears turned red.

“S-Sorry.” He whispered.

“Don’t be,” You said gently, leaning in to press your forehead to his. “I liked being yours.”

His breath caught at that, his hands tightening gently on your sides. Then he kissed you–slow and soft and grateful. And when you pulled back, his hand brushed along your arm as he helped you out of bed.

You led the way to your en suite bathroom, flicking on the light that glowed soft and golden. The room was warm, fogged slightly from earlier use, and your spare towels were already folded neatly on the rack. You reached for two, tossed one onto the nearby counter for later, and handed Bob the other to keep nearby.

He looked at it like it was some sacred token.

You turned the water on and waited for it to warm while he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms gently around your waist and nuzzling the back of your neck.

“I could get used to this,” He whispered.

“What, showering?” You teased, smiling as you leaned back into his chest.

“No,” He said, shaking his head slightly. “Just…Being with you. Like this.”

You turned in his arms, heart thudding, and kissed him slow and sure. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The water turned to steam.

You stepped in first, guiding him in with you. It was small, a bit cramped–but it didn’t matter. You made room for each other. Bob pressed close, arms winding gently around your back as the water poured down over you both. His mouth found your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your lips, peppering you with soft, adoring kisses as the heat melted the soreness from your limbs.

He helped you wash your entire body. His fingers in your hair, gentle and careful as they massaged your scalp with your favorite shampoo. His palms smoothing body wash over your skin like you were something precious and breakable, his lips brushing your shoulder every few seconds just to stay close.

You did the same for him, trailing your hands down his chest, watching the way he shivered beneath your touch even now. You cleaned him carefully, quietly, the lather sliding down both your bodies in pearled rivulets. Every time you looked up at him, he was already looking at you. Eyes soft. Lips parted. Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

At one point, you turned under the spray and leaned your back into his chest. Bob immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush to him beneath the stream of water. His chin came to rest atop your head, his breath steadying.

“I—I feel like I’m gonna cry,” He admitted quietly, after a long silence.

You tilted your head back just enough to look up at him. “Why?”

“Because…” He swallowed. “B-Because I’ve never felt this safe. And that’s… Not something I ever thought I’d get.”

You reached up, touched his jaw, and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “Then I’ll just have to keep giving it to you.”

His arms tightened around you, and he let out a long, trembling breath.

“Promise?” He whispered.

“Always,” You said. And meant it.

In the shower’s warmth, with your bodies tangled and your hearts steadying into one rhythm, nothing else in the world existed.

Just you and Bob. Soft skin. Steam. And the quiet knowledge that everything had changed.

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Aaaaaah I know I've been talking abt this art for like 3 days but I FINISHED IT HEEHEE 💖💘💖💘💖💘💖 The thought behind this was Cherry was getting mugged during their walk back to her apartment cuz Townsville be like that, and this is the moment Mojo swooped in to her rescue (How did he know it was happening? He deeeefinitely wasnt spying on them lol) ANYWAYS ENJOY If you want more thoughts look at my tags!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖

[[🧡 Reblogs and comments are all seen and very appreciated!! 🥺 Tag list below the cut, check out my pinned for my taglist form! 💙]]

@absentmoon @ava-ships @bee-ships @beetleboyfriend @berryshipbasket @canongf @clawfull @cloudyvoid @derelictdumbass @dissonantyote @edencantstopfallininlove @final-catboy @flowering-darkness @gible-love-nibles @nagirans @hoppinkiss @hotrodharts @hyperionshipping @iwishihadfangs @iyamifucker @judetama @lex-n-weegie @lficanthaveloveiwantpower @little-miss-selfships @little-shiny-sharpies @loogi-selfships @mandrakebrew @mintpecks @mothfinite @mrs-kelly @nameless-self-ships @orbitingaroundyourlove @nerdstreak @paper-carnation @p-i-t-s @qilinkisser @reds-self-ships @rexscanonwife @rotten--cotton @ship-trek @spacestationstorybook @squips-ship @toogayforthistoday @winterworlds

[pochaccoups]

cw — dry humping, making out, handjob, pet names ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’, best bf cheol (minors dni)

It’s a confession you make half-hoping Seungcheol doesn’t hear you: “you’re so hard. Let me jerk you off.”

You say it in the heat of the moment, utter it against his lips, reluctant partly because it’s perverted, it’s obscene, and it’s just utterly desperate of you, and partly also because you’re supposed to be taking it slow with him. You’ve had too many relationships go to shit when you fucked them right off the bat and found out after that you’d had nothing in common. Then you met Choi Seungcheol, who seemed a little too good to be true, and from the moment you’d told him you didn’t want to rush into any kind of intimacy just yet, he was more careful with your boundaries than you yourself.

For the last God-knows-how-long though, you’d sat in his lap, rutting yourself against him while he stole your breath with his lips, and fuck, he’s so hard against you that you think it must hurt, and he’s your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you help him out?

When you say it, he tugs you away from him by your neck, not harsh or rough at all but rather in the way that everything he does has an air of dominance. He stares at you with hardened features, his attempt to appear stern betrayed only slightly by his kiss-swollen lips and cherry red cheeks, and yet you’re not afraid to persist.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he says, so soft and low that he could lull you to sleep.

“It’s fine, Cheol. It won’t even count because you’re not putting it inside,” you say with a shrug and a grin.

Seungcheol has never felt so torn in his life. He wants to build up tension slowly with you until you trust him, until you’re certain that you’re ready to go all the way with him, to take the next step and bare yourself to him. Saying no to you is impossible though, especially when you make him want to give you the entire world. He’s also so, so hard, and his only options are to give in to you or jerk himself off in the bathroom alone.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his boner growing worse from the soft suppleness of it, from the batting of your lashes, from the carnal gleam in your eyes. Fuck it, he thinks. You’re the one who wanted it in the first place, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, and he already sounds out of breath, like the mere thought of your hand around him is enough to make him lose his mind. (It is.)

He starts to shift beneath you, simultaneously grasping your waist to reposition you ever so slightly as he pulls his sweats a few inches down his hips while your ardent fingers help him along. “But the second you wanna stop, we stop, okay?”

“Not gonna wanna stop,” you say, humming. Seungcheol pauses and stares at you, unamused. It makes you roll your eyes. “God, okay, I’ll tell you if I wanna stop. Now can I touch your dick, please?”

He narrows his eyes at you in faux doubt, only to wink at you and finally push his boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

You feel your insides literally warm at the sight of it. It’s darkened pink, veiny, long, and girthier than anything you’ve ever seen. How can you not think about how it would feel inside you, stretching you out? Because God knows it would stretch you out. You’re pretty sure you’ll need several weeks of foreplay for him to fit.

“Cheol, you’re huge…” you say before you can stop yourself, growing suddenly timid.

“Good thing I’m not putting it inside then, hm?” says Seungcheol, chuckling a little.

He notices the shift in your eyes—it’s not hesitation, you’re just stunned. His hand soothes up and down your back, a silent reminder to take your time. For a split second his heart drops when he thinks maybe you’ve changed your mind about this, about him, and then your hand reaches for his length.

“Can I?” you ask. So polite, as if you’ve never done anything like this before. It makes Seungcheol want to smother you with kisses.

“Please,” he replies, only hoping it’s not too desperate.

The relief when your fingers finally grasp him makes Seungcheol’s shoulder sag, and he finds himself sinking further into the couch when your thumb swirls over his reddened cockhead. Beads of precum drool from his slit and you smear them all over his tip, smirking softly when Seungcheol’s breath hitches in his throat.

With your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from making an embarrassing noise, you start to pump his member slowly. You drool at the heaviness of it, at the way your fingers don’t touch as they wrap around him, at Seungcheol’s tiny noises as he inhales and exhales.

“Think you could spit on it for me?” he asks and his voice has dropped about three octaves now. He’s careful with his words, wanting nothing but for you to do things on your own accord.

He has to stop himself from cumming on the spot when you give a nod and a sweet smile before bending forward to let a dollop of spit drop from your pretty lips and land perfectly on his tip.

“Show me how you like it, Cheol,” you say. His heart skips several beats and he wishes he could record your words and listen to them again and again. Fuck, you’re perfect. He already knew that, knew it after about two weeks of knowing you, but you just keep affirming it for him and he wonders if you know your effect on him.

Seungcheol’s hand is warm as it engulfs yours. His grip is much tighter—painful even, you would think, but as he starts guiding your hand up and down with vigour, he throws his head back and moans, and you can’t help the way your pussy aches at the sound.

He shows you exactly how he likes it: tight, and with a flick of the wrist to swirl around his tip.

“God, fuck, baby, that’s it,” he grunts and bucks his hips into your hand.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck. There’s a dash of timidness you get from being this intimate with Seungcheol for the first time, although it’s not even you who’s exposed, and then there’s desire. Wild, burning lust. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s falling apart in your hands.

“Your cock’s so pretty, Cheollie,” you say. His already dark eyes have grown impossibly darker, riddled with want as they flicker between your intertwined fingers around his cock, and your face. “Can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

“F-fuck, didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, pretty girl,” he moans, quickening your pace. His precum leaks all over your fingers, so wet that there’s an audible slick sound with every pump up and down.

“Only for you,” you say, and your gaze falls to his glistening lips, and you’re moving absentmindedly towards them until you’re kissing him. It’s even messier than before, more breathless, like neither of you are holding back your wanting anymore. Your tongue licks against his shamelessly. You’re hungry for him. He settles a hand at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him so that he can kiss you so hard your head starts to spin.

You’re not sure when you’d started grinding on him again, rutting your crotch over his hard thigh like a dog, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed of yourself when Seungcheol’s chest is starting to heave, his moans are growing more frequent, and his cock is throbbing against your hand.

“You’re twitching, Cheol. Are you gonna cum?” you tease, your cunt fluttering.

“Yeah, ’m close,” he says through gritted teeth.

And he’s certainly honest, because a few more strokes and he’s giving a deep, guttural groan and cumming in thick, milky white spurts all over his hoodie. His blissed out face is a sight to behold, although he doesn’t let you do so in favour of pulling you in for another kiss, one that’s soft and chaste this time.

Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.

“Did so good for me, baby, thank you,” he says, giving you his sugary smile. “I’m gonna go… uh, change real quick and then I’ll return the favour, yeah?”

“Wh- return the favour? But- that- I wanted to help you out, though, so it’s fine!” you stutter, and he’s already plucked you off his lap like you’re weightless and stood up to his feet.

“Baby,” he says, taking your hand. “I felt you grinding all over my leg. Let me take care of you like you did for me.”

[musicalnobody]

The Ghost You Fed - Ch. 1

bunny hybrid!reader X cane corso hybrid!simon "ghost" riley ⋆ Call of Duty ⋆MDNI⋆ 4.2k words ⋆ 18+, explicit in future chapters ⋆ tags to be added as story progresses ⋆

⋆ pinterest board ⋆ AO3 link ⋆ next ⋆

Summary: Being a service animal is all you've ever known, being spoiled as a treat for all you do for your owner. So what happens when you see something, or rather someone, you can't have? (Inspired by 'it will come back' by hozier)

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, eventual smut, kind of icky simon, stalking, past character death, reader is so spoiled, drug dealing, dog fighting, breaking and entering, semi-public masturbation

A/N: WOOOO NEW FIC TIME!!! To give a little heads up, I will be using italics to indicate sign language between the reader and her owner. There isn’t going to much of a description for the reader, but your hair is fairly long, and your ear and tail color are mentioned, you are also chubby bc come on, a little old lady with a hybrid? She’s gonna fatten you right up. In this universe hybrids have ears, tails, and some have claws and canine fangs. Heats and ruts also exist within this universe but without the whole omegaverse thing. The rest you’ll figure out along the way!

Being a service animal was easy enough. Tell her when someone was at the door, translate when you were out in public, comfort her when she was having a rough day, and in exchange you got pampered. It truly was an easy life.

Agnes had adopted you when you were just a kit, only five years old. She wasn’t fully deaf at the time, able to start teaching you sign language at a young age. She was the kindest woman you had ever met. Her hearing had fully deteriorated when you were 12 years old. Crying for hours at a time when she finally broke the news to you, never being much of a tough one.

She still tried her best to teach you all that she could, cooking and cleaning as well as hobbies like reading, writing, and crocheting fun little projects. You were quite spoiled, and you knew it, having you own room but preferring to sleep at the end of Agnes’ large bed, having a whole closet filled with frilly outfits, getting to be paraded about outside.

Your crème-colored fur doesn’t get dirty anymore, baths becoming a part of your routines. Agnes brushes your hair afterwards, having you sit in front of your vanity while she does. You always feel so special when she does this, especially when she gently grabs your droopy ears to brush out as well, leaving them all fluffy for you. When Agnes starts entering you in beauty pageants, you’re over the moon, pleased that your owner thinks so highly of you. You learn tricks, you show them how competent you are, how nice your coat is.

You display the awards proudly in your room.

Despite being out so often, Agnes didn’t have many friends. Just a couple childhood friends who would visit every now and then, her kids living on opposite sides of the country. They would have tea parties, none of them having hybrids of their own so you were left to bask in their attention. The scratches at your ears and tummy were what you lived for.

You were never bad, always following the rules and orders around the house, helping when needed. You were an easy bunny to take care of, Agnes couldn’t of asked for better. You had gotten your service animal papers the day you turned 13, and Agnes had given you a frilly vest that she had hand-sewed so everyone would know that’s exactly what you were. You wore the vest until the day the seams ripped, and it wouldn’t go over your arms anymore. That’s when she made you a new one.

It was a rainy day, one reserved for baking. Today, you had decided to surprise Agnes with Manchester tarts, some of her favorites. These bite sized deserts had a shortcrust pastry shell spread with raspberry jam, covered with a custard filling and topped with flakes of coconut and a Maraschino cherry. They made the whole house smell like warm raspberries and pastry, something you certainly weren’t complaining about.

You sat up in your room, brushing out your hair after deciding what to wear. Since you weren’t going outside, you decided on a frilly pink top with flowers decorating it, a short white layered skirt with white bloomers under it, and two pink lacy garters sitting atop your thighs. You wore dangly earrings with pink raspberries on the end, as well as a pearl necklace with a matching charm that went well with your pink collar sitting around your neck, proudly displaying your name. You quickly put some mascara on and some lip tint, popping your lips in the mirror. A chill went up your spine and you flicked your eyes to gaze behind you in the mirror, attributing it to the wind from your open window.

You walk downstairs, seeing Agnes knitting you a pink and white striped sweater on the recliner. Going up to her and tapping her on the shoulder, you tell her what you’re doing.

“Going to make us treats today” You signed as you smiled. You watched as Agnes returned the smile and nodded, indicating that she was going to continue knitting. You skipped off to the kitchen, since you were a bunny hybrid, you were only about 5 feet, and that was on the taller side. This meant that you often had to use the stool to grab different ingredients. You looked behind you again as another chill went up your spine, but this time there wasn’t a window open. You chalked it up to the heating not being high enough after not seeing anything.

Throwing the flour, diced butter, white fat and icing sugar together, you began the pastry. Mixing in the water, you then let it set for 30 minutes, idly watching the tv. When the timer finally went off, you leapt up, running to the kitchen. You opened the window behind you so the kitchen didn’t get too hot when you turned on the oven, setting a towel in front so that rain didn’t get on the floor.

After pre-heating the oven to 190°C and putting the baking beans in the tart, you twirled around and put the tart in the oven for another 20 minutes. After taking the baking beans out and letting it cook for another 7 minutes, you took it out and spread the jam along the bottom, sprinkling the coconut atop of it.

You made the custard, boiling the mixture and adding vanilla to taste before pouring it through a sieve. You stirred it for a few minutes, letting it cool, before pouring it into the tart. You sprinkled the top with the rest of the coconut before setting it out and letting it cool. These desserts were something that Agnes had spent plenty of time teaching you how to learn, so much so that you could do it by heart at this point. You set the timer for four agonizing hours and then pranced over to Agnes, kneeling beside her chair to receive the occasional pet as you began your own little crochet project.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon had known the streets long before he knew the regimen of the military. When his mother had passed and his brother fell into drugs, he left. Hybrids like him weren’t treated too kindly, as he wasn’t easily trainable, he wasn’t as obedient and desperate to please like some of the others. Simon found spots in alleys, abandoned buildings, and the occasional hybrid-friendly motel if he saved enough money. But that never lasted long.

When the military found him, he’d had a run in with some old “tamers” that were trying to capture him, he had fought back and paid the consequence, long lashes scattering his arms and back. Price had taken him right under his wing. Teaching him how to be a proper K-9 unit, watching him surpass that and being let on the field without a handler. Being able to be trusted with gun. Everything was going great for Simon. Until the death of his best friend.

Soap’s passing had left such a vengeance in his heart that he was forced to be honorably discharged, they feared what a man like him would be able to do if set off. They had tried to get him housing but nowhere would take his breed. The only option being those damned trainers and underground hybrid fighting rings. Simon quickly realized he could make a quick buck by entering these fights. Learning that he didn’t need a handler when he already knew how to fight. He had plenty of offers, but always snarled at them, telling them to fuck off, that he knew what he was doing.

So, there he was, a world-class soldier now turned into a common stray. Resorting to illegal fighting and other ventures to line his pockets. There was a fresh bruise blooming under his eye, the last fight ending just a couple hours ago. Simon would find a place to sleep for a few hours before moving again, not wanting to stay in one place for too long.

When he woke up to the rain, it was just another day for him, though he noted he would have to stop by a laundromat for his current clothes, thankful for the extra outfit in his backpack. It was early in the morning when he was hopping the roofs of the city. Most of the lights down because of the weather. It wasn’t until he stopped to catch his breath that he noticed the house across the street.

A small baby blue house sat in his line of sight, a lamp illuminating a room on the second story. Having been perched at the far end of the building across the street, he crept closer to the edge. That’s when he saw it, or rather, you.

You were brushing your hair with a brush that looked straight out of the Victorian era, like you were a princess. You were sitting in front of your vanity in an outfit that had Simon snarling. The garters that were sitting on your thighs were things he wanted to take off with his own teeth. He sat there, staring at you as you brushed out your, oh. Oh. You were a little bunny hybrid. He hadn’t noticed your tail tucked under you before, or your floppy little ears until you pulled them out to brush. If your window wasn’t open, Simon would’ve started to howl, but for fear of scaring your owner, let alone you, he didn’t.

He watched as you shivered, ducked as you turned to look out the window. His call sign proving its significance at this moment, his ability to disappear within a blink of an eye. He peeked his head back up, watching as you left your room and bounced down the stairs, truly getting a grasp of how small you were. He groaned, long and heavy. You were perfect. Your skirt was tantalizingly short, bloomers covering what he wanted to see most.

When he lost sight of you in the living room? Well, it was time to move. He snuck down, thankful for the bushes that surrounded your house, and peered in. He noticed your hands moving animatedly until it actually hit him. You were signing. Your owner was deaf. Simon quickly thanked whatever God was out there that he had less of a chance of being caught if he was howling, less chance of getting caught when sneaking around. He watched as you went into the kitchen, moved to the window next to him so he could see you better.

Simon was aware this made him nothing short of a creep, but he was addicted to you. He watched as you stood atop your stool, watched as your body realized someone was staring at you while he ducked down. The thrill was enough to get his breathing ragged, grateful that there weren’t windows open next to him. Popping back up to watch you throw together the dough, hiding when you opened the window next to him. Staring intently as you waited right next to your owner, wanting it to be him giving you all the desperate pets you wanted. The smell of your baking was starting to become more prominent as you put the pastry in the oven.

He could smell the raspberry jam being spread on the tart, matching your cute little earrings that he was getting a close eye of. He watched as you sprinkled the coconut on the tart before starting on the custard. The smell was fantastic, and Simon had a pretty good idea of what you were making by now. A Manchester tart. He hadn’t tasted one in years. His mother had used to make them when he was younger, holiday dinners and such. He was damn near ecstatic when he realized that’s what you were making, already looking for the weak points in your house.

⋆🐾⋆

Waiting for the tart to cool was agonizing. No matter how much crocheting you could do or how much music you could listen to, you were moping around the house bored. Agnes took pity on you, looking down at you as you tapped your foot against the ground,

“Impatient, love?”

“I just know they’re going to taste so good!” You signed back, emphasizing your words by making fireworks with your hands. Agnes simply chuckled before ruffling your hair.

“Good things come to those who wait” Her famous line being signed as you went to lay back down, continuing your little project as you waited for the timer to go off.

When the timer finally pinged, you jumped to your feet. Grabbing the pie slicer, you cut the tart into 10 equal pieces, dishing out you and Agnes a piece. Grabbing your signature mini fork and handing Agnes her piece, you dug in.

Your teeth sunk into the tart, a happy noise coming out of your mouth, it was delicious. The buttery crust melted on your tongue, the tart raspberries pulling it together, and the coconut adding a hint of extra flavor. “It’s so good” You signed to Agnes as you continued to eat. Agnes simply smiled at you before grabbing a slice of her own, making her own noise of happiness when she sunk her teeth in.

“I think you’ve learned how to make it better than me.” Agnes signed back at you, a look of proudness on her face. You smiled, big and wide, happy to please your owner so much. This was the best Manchester tart you’ve ever made, and you knew it. Putting the rest in Tupperware and putting it into the fridge, you shut the door gently.

“I’m going to go take a bath!” You signed to Agnes before bouncing upstairs, opening the door to the bathroom. Opening the window a tad, you started to strip your outfit off, making sure you had 2 fluffy towels to welcome you when you got out. You started filling the tub with hot water, just a bit hotter than comfortable so it wouldn’t get cold too fast. The large claw-foot tub held you easily as you stepped foot in the hot water. You sighed heavily and swung your other foot over, gently setting yourself down.

You began your routine by shampooing your hair and ears, the strawberry shortcake scent starting to permeate the room. You lathered your hair until it was soapy, scrubbing at your ears gently. You went to rinse your hair and felt the familiar chill down your spine despite the water being hot. You wanted to close the window, worrying that that was the problem, but you know the room will get too steamy if you do, so you decide to leave it open.

You then moved onto conditioning your hair, the matching scent adding to the smell in the air. Your hair and fur instantly felt silkier, the bubbles now surrounding you. You grabbed your scrubbing brush and put your vanilla scented soap on it before beginning to scrub yourself down. Using your hands on more sensitive areas, you traced over the area lightly, mewling softly.

Draining the water and closing the window, you pattered over to your room. Putting on a cute little matching set with a sheer pink nightdress on top, you pranced around the house feeling like a princess. You skipped down the stairs to see Agnes. Who simply smiled at your appearance, your hair still drying.

“You look beautiful my dear.” You smiled right back at her, all teeth and giggles. You pranced over to the cabinets, once again grabbing the stool to grab one of your pink bowls with white bunnies all over it. You set the bowl on the counter before grabbing the tub of neapolitan ice cream and scooping 3 large spoonsful into your bowl. Putting the tub back before grabbing a spoon and glancing at what Agnes was watching

It was one of her soap operas, a tale of a hybrid and her handler who lived out in the country, escaping from the crime they were used to. In this particular episode, the avian hybrid was being approached by a large feline hybrid from the opposing organized crime group, you tried to avoid the screen, the scene starting to cause you anxiety.

“More sweets?” Agnes signed as she smiled warmly at you, making sure you knew she wasn’t being judgmental. You nodded, offering her a bite before trotting back upstairs.

Sitting on your bed watching tv, you were kicking your feet in the air as you shoveled spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, letting out little mewls and moans at the delicious taste. The movie was just starting, an old silent fairytale that you had seen over and over. Despite the film being old, there were still hybrids in it, having them be the two helping hands that assisted the soon to be princess in getting ready. The scene made you happy, not often getting good representation in the media, hence why this was a comfort film.

But your mind started to become occupied with other things, the movie not holding your attention very well. You tried to write in your diary, writing about how you had baked for the day, coming up with ideas on how to modify the Manchester tart. You wrote about how nice your bath was, how you needed to get more bubble bath solution. You wrote about all the mundane things that happened throughout your day, talking about how you were excited for the summer trip only a few months away, really trying to wind down.

That was until a too familiar chill slipped down your spine again, and you had enough. You stomped overed to your window, thankful that Agnes wasn’t able to hear your steps, and glared out into the open sky.

“Will you stop that!” You said loudly, looking at the moon as the rain that had been pouring down all day continued.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon crept around the house for another hour, successfully finding the back door unlocked and a way to access the upper roof so he could peek into your window. He would come back once the Manchester tarts were done cooling off. For now, he had stuff to do. At least, that’s what he told himself as he tore his body away from the window.

He was a simple man; he had to make money somehow. At least, that’s what he told himself as he gave the next sorry soul another dose of whatever high they were after. If the military could see him now, they’d be ashamed, but pushing drugs was an easy and quick fix. It wasn’t weird to wear hoods that hid his ears and masks that obscured his face, especially when he was dealing with heat suppressants, some of the most illegal drugs on the market.

When hybrids first started appearing in the general market, heat and rut suppressants were encouraged, often being prescribed when a hybrids cycle was especially rough or aggressive. But as more side effects got added and other alternatives were created, they slowly withdrew from popularity, now only being used as heavy birth control. There were also multiple brands that were illegal, brands that Simon was all too familiar with.

While he also pushed “normal” drugs such as coke or weed, there was a much higher demand for suppressants. The more he sat and thought about his profession, the more he thought about you. Wondering if you even had a heat anymore, or if they took your glands away from you when you were deemed unfit to be anything more than a pet, yet another solution they had come up with.

Simon had been offered the surgery when he first entered the military, but he flat out refused. He didn’t like his ruts, as they often fell under the aggressive category, but he would often have someone accompany him or at least keep him locked up. He had found someone that he consistently spent his ruts with, and that’s when the military’s offer came to taunt him, asking after the death of—

He shook himself out of his train of thought, busying it with you again. How your room had been covered in bows and frills, pink and cream, florals, a princess’s dream. How although not in a great part of the city, your house was still perfectly put together. So fitting for the two of you. The yellow and white kitchen looked like it came straight out of a 1950’s nostalgic catalogue, and suddenly he was imagining himself behind you as you baked sweet treats for them.

He was yet again getting too far ahead of himself, hell, he didn’t even know your name. Strays like him weren’t welcome in homes like that, he didn’t have the manners to stay within that little home. He would sink his teeth in to rip and tear at the seams. He would destroy anything he touched. And with him not being a proper working dog, well he just couldn’t let you into this life. That’s when he decided he would stay far, far away from you. Watching you only when it was safe to do so.

After three agonizing hours of wandering around the city collecting clients and thinking to himself, Simon realized that he could return to your neighborhood, return to his bunny. Ducking into his position in the overgrown bushes, he watched as you placed the first bite into your mouth, hearing the faint sound of your overjoyed squeal at the success of the pie. Your voice was a melody he was already getting accustomed to, wanting to be the reason why those sweet sounds came out of your mouth.

He watched as you finished your slice of the tart before signing something to Agnes and bounding up the stairs. It was his time to strike. Pushing open the window his was ducked under, Simon hastily climbed into the kitchen, his hulking body making too much noise for his comfort, once again grateful for Agnes’ lack of hearing.  He quickly swung open the fridge door to grab one of the Tupperware containers before dipping right back outside.

It wasn’t until he made his wander into the backyard that he realized what you must have signed to Agnes. A bath. You were bathing yourself. He couldn’t see much from the backyard, thanking the cramped alleyways of Manchester allowing him to climb the roof of the house behind yours. Giving him a perfect view into— Oh.

The bathroom window was slightly ajar, enough for the faint smell of strawberries to drift over to Simon’s nose and fuck was he already planning how many pups he was going to give you, wondering if they would be little kits or pups, wondering how you would look so round and— Christ you had a way of doing that to him. Making him space out and dream about realities that could never happen with a mutt like him. Not someone so dirty. Nor someone so depraved.

He watched as you washed your hair, taking extra time with your ears, not being able to rip his eyes off you. He glanced away when you washed your body, still wanting to be respectful to you, but you made it difficult. The second he smelled that sweet vanilla body wash he came undone, writhing on the roof before tearing himself away from the picture of you, finally giving you privacy.

He walked back to the house that was across the street, perching on that roof as he ate the Manchester tart. He had to bite his tongue from letting out an overjoyed howl at the first bite, it instantly bringing him back to his childhood. He devoured it in only a couple bites, not having the patience to savor the treat. He would have to remind himself to take another slice tomorrow, before the two of you ate it all.

When he was finished with the tart, he glanced into your room, only to be shocked to see you sprawled out on your stomach in a sheer pink nightgown, kicking your feet back and forth as you ate your ice cream, one treat not enough for you. He growled quietly; you looked simply divine. Cream colored bikini cut underwear with rows of frills caressing your ass, a matching bralette holding in your pretty tits. The sheer nightgown did little to cover you, having little accents of cream-colored lace as well. It just barely covered your ass, leaving so little to the imagination that it had Simon fuming.

But then you were writing in that diary, and all Simon could think of was those pouty lips around him, how silky your hair would be around his calloused fingers, how soft your skin would be. And when you called out into the night? Trying to get his prying eyes off you? Well, he just couldn’t stop himself from cuming right into his hand, wishing he had cum into your pretty little mouth instead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist:

@hughjackmanadict

[gorgeys]

purple tongues ★ mari ibarra x fem!reader

some couples measure their love in pictures, or flowers, or kisses.  you and mari measure yours in slurpees.

word count: 2700 warnings: maybe mari a little ooc?

a/n: this is barely edited so it's a little rough around the edges

also this is supposed to be the first part of that big mari fic i was teasing here. i started writing a part 2 with more snapshots of mari and reader's relationship in the future but it might never get done who knows.

missing my shayla sm 💔💔

it started the night before everything began.  the night before you left for nationals.

you and mari had ditched the bonfire party early on, mari claiming "this looks like a scene out of can't hardly wait, minus anyone fuckable."  instead, the two of you walked down the lonely, dark neighborhood roads, music fading out of earshot and hands brushing with each step.

mari filled the silence by making fun of everyone's outfits that night just to hear you laugh.  you filled the space by leaning into her side and finally grabbing her hand, which left mari's heart thumping against her rib cage.  until you both stumbled across wiskayok's only 7/11.

sure it was cramped and old and smelled like weed, but the way mari opened the door for you and drawled "after you, milady," made it seem like the fanciest place in town.  you laughed all the way to the slurpee machine, mari guiding you with a hand on the small of your back, where you both reached for big gulp cups.

"half cherry, half coke," you say, filling your cup to the brim.  "just like god intended."

mari scrunches up her nose in disgust, but it's more cute than anything.

"no, no, no.  see, you gotta get blue raspberry like a real adult," mari says as if she's enlightening you.

"yeah, right."  you roll your eyes, but your smile speaks volumes.

she grabs a few crumpled dollar bills from the back pocket of her jeans and throws them down on the counter like it's not even a question that she's paying for you.  then she tugs you by the hand out the door and finds a nice spot on the curb illuminated by the overhead streetlight.

she outstretches her legs and lazily leans back on one hand, the other bringing the straw to her lips.  she moans dramatically after taking her first sip.

"enjoying that?" you ask, glancing over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"oh yeah," she says, grinning back.  "a thousand calories and enough artificial sweetener to kill a horse.  nationals here we come!"

you laugh, the sound mari's come to love so much, before taking a sip of your own.

there's a beat of silence.  it's something mari used to hate, but has come to understand since meeting you.  she actually finds herself enjoying the quiet when it's shared with you.  still she's always one to break it.

"isn't this so much better than getting puked on by randy walsh?" 

you look over at her and grin.  because yeah, that had actually happened last year and she would spend the rest of her years teasing you about it.  but you also smiled because there was no one else you'd rather be with.

"yeah, it really is," you say, breathlessly and genuinely.

when mari turns and sees the way you're looking at her, full of love and everything she doesn't think she deserves, she feels like her heart might as well jump out of her chest and into your hands. because mari, whose first language is sarcasm and shit talking, somehow harbors a soft spot in the shape of you.

"don't look at me like that," she says, but her words lack the bite they usually have.  her eyes flicker down to the asphalt, a similar smile spreading across her face.

you lean in closer, lowering your face so she's forced to meet your eyes.  mari's the opposite of shy, so you can't help but take advantage of moments like this, when she's nervous to show how much she really cares.

"like what?" you ask, a teasing edge to your voice.  like you already know what she's going to say.

"like you love me or something," she says, trying and failing to sound casual.  she looks back up at you, leaning back on her hand with that easy smirk.

"but i do," you say, resting your cheek against your knee, still smiling up at her.

"obviously, you dork."

a breathy chuckle pushes past your lips before you cup her face in your free hand.  your lips meet hers halfway in a strong, sure kiss.  it's not perfect by normal standards --both of your lips are freezing and taste like artificial sweetener and you can hear boys shouting on the other side of the parking lot.  but in that moment, it feels perfect to the both of you.

when mari pulls back she grins like she's just won the lottery.

"i love you too," she says, the words rolling off her tongue more naturally than her own name.

you smile, reaching down and interlacing your fingers with hers on the pavement.  you don't have the guts to say it, but a part of you is thinking it: maybe this could be forever.

if you had known that was going to be your last taste of normal, you would have stayed there even longer, would've bought mari another slurpee, would've kissed her one more time under the neon sign of the store.  instead, you walked her home an hour or two later, kissing her cheek at the door and whispering how beautiful of a night it had been with her.

the next time you think about slurpees, you're a thousand miles deep in the canadian wilderness.  you're starving, borderline freezing to death, and you've just watched your closest friends die.

you're tucked under as many blankets as you could find, legs tangled with mari's beneath them as you try to keep out the cold of the approaching winter.  your faces are so close that you can feel her warm breath fanning against your nose, a welcome reminder that she's still there.  she can feel your hand trembling as it holds onto her arm and the way you stiffen each time a strong gust of wind enters the hut, as if you're waiting for something bad to happen.

you think she might be asleep until you feel her fingers start to trace your cheekbone.  her touch is so gentle you have to question if it's really there or if you're just imagining it.

"do you remember our last night?" she whispers.

you open your eyes, and from the way the moonlight reflects off of them, mari knows you do.

"i think about it all the time," she confesses.  "when i can't sleep, i just try to remember you that night.  how pretty you looked under the streetlight and how stupid i was for not telling you then."

your lips curl into a weak, sad smile.

"and how you threw your head back and laughed at everything i said, even when it wasn't funny.  and-and how everything felt perfect when you held my hand."

"mari..." you whisper, leaning forward so your forehead rests against hers.

"and how happy you were to just be there with me.  i'm scared i'll never see you like that again."

you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tears start to swell.  you haven't cried in a while, but as every sight, sound, and taste from that night comes rushing back to you, you suddenly realize how much you've lost.

"i'm scared too, mar," you say, hand moving from her arm to her cheek.  "and i don't know what to say to make it better."

mari exhales, shaky and slow, like she's trying to keep it together for you.

"you don't have to say anything.  it's just...my favorite memory.  you're my favorite memory.  even if you do get that disgusting cherry coke mix that tastes like battery acid."

"shut up," you laugh quietly, pushing her shoulder.  it's a small, broken laugh that catches on the edge of a sob.  "it's so good and you know it."

"yeah, whatever," she says, smiling wider than you've seen in a while.

"i think i'd cut off my left arm just to have another one of those," you sigh.

"what?  slurpee?"

"yeah, that.  but also just...another night with you."  your hand's cradling her neck now, holding her like she's the only thing you've got left.

"tell you what," she starts, voice nearly breaking.  her fingers brush your hair out of your face.  "first thing i do if we get rescued, i'm taking you back to that place.  i'm getting you your battery acid slurpee.  we'll sit on the curb and you'll hold my hand and i'll kiss you so hard our tongues turn purple.  we'll rewrite the memory.  i promise."

a loose tear trickles down your cheek as you nod your head. 

"deal," you whisper.  then mari leans forward and kisses the tear away.

"i love you."

"i love you more," you say, wrapping your arm around her as she buries her face in your neck.

you close your eyes and you see that image of mari: laughing, carefree, straw between her lips.  and for the first time, you let yourself imagine what it will be like after you're rescued, when you get to see that version of mari again.  and it's the first time you have a semblance of good night's sleep since the plane crash.

and then it finally happens.  rescue comes even though a part of you had given up on it entirely.  and mari's there, holding your hand through it all.  from the hospital, to the anxious plane ride home, to seeing wiskayok for the first time in almost two years.

and then, just like she promised, you're sitting the passenger seat of mari's car as she drives you back to that 7/11.  it's a quiet drive, one where you're staring out the window and taking in the sights and sounds of the town that hasn't changed a bit since you last saw it.  and mari's fingers are tapping anxiously against the steering wheel while her other hand rests in yours over the center console like a lifeline, grounding you when everything feels like too much.

when she finally pulls into the parking lot and puts the car in park, you both just sit there.  it looks exactly the same way it did on that night: neon sign outside, too-bright fluorescent lights inside, and the kids with their bikes loitering around the entrance.  it was as if time had frozen that night, and the store had been awaiting your return all these months later.

mari exhales a heavy breath from beside you.

"you good?" you murmur, eyes never leaving the store.  this feels like a dream.  one you thought you'd never get to fulfill.

"yeah, it's just...a lot," mari says.

it shouldn't be a lot.  it should just be a random 7/11 in some random boring town.  but to you and mari, it's everything.

"i know," you say, squeezing her hand.  "we don't have to if-"

"no, i want to.  i've been waiting to.  it's all i've been thinking about for two years and now it's here."  she looks over at you and smiles.  "come on, let's go."

she gets to the door first and holds it open for you.

"after you, milady," she says, just like last time, except her voice is softer and more careful now.  it's a small but sharp reminder that you'll never get back the innocence you once had.

you don't throw your head back in laughter this time, you just smile, hand still in hers, tugging her inside after you.  the smell of weed hits you like a freight train, but for once, you don't mind.  you lead mari to the slurpee machine that's still in the same spot and you sigh when you see the flavors are exactly the same: cherry, blue raspberry, coke, and that weird sugar free green one that nobody gets.

"god, mar, i might cry," you say.  you expect her to tease you like usual, something about how much of a sap you are, but instead she releases your hand and holds your waist instead.

"me too," she says, resting her chin on your shoulder.  you spare her a smile over your shoulder before reaching for two of the largest cups.

"coke and cherry?" she asks.

"just like god intended," you say, pulling on the cherry lever.  mari watches you, no longer bothering to hide the fondness in her eyes.

she eventually heads for blue raspberry, telling you, "somethings never change."

"and i never want them to," you say.

"me neither," she says, looping an arm through yours and guiding you toward the unbothered cashier.

mari tries to pay but you're quicker this time.

"nope, i've had this debt for two years.  time to repay it," you say, sliding a couple crumpled bills of your own onto the counter.  you had been sure to grab them before you left the house just for this very occasion, so that, for once, you could be the one to take care of mari.

"it's two dollars, you idiot," mari teases before dragging you outside to the same spot on the curb under the same flickering streetlight.

the two of you wordlessly sit, knees brushing.  for once, the night air is warm and the sounds of wiskayok hum in the background and there's no weight on either of your shoulders, no fear.

"we're really here," mari says, leaning back on her hand like muscle memory.

"just like you promised."

"i didn't even know if we were going to make it out when i told you that," mari admits.

"i know," you say, elbows resting on your knees.  "but that didn't matter.  just thinking about it made everything a little less bad.  and now, being here, with you, it's better than i could've ever imagined."

she recognizes the way you're looking at her, like she hung the stars in your sky.  it's the same look you gave her that night, the one that made her heart jump and scared her a little.  except now she doesn't shy away. she melts right into it.

she lifts her cup in the air like it's something sacred.

"to making new memories," she says. 

you tap the rim of your cup against hers, making a plastic clinking sound.

"to us," you add. 

because that's what it's been all along, the two of you. and after everything, you know that's how it's going to stay: the two of you tethered, two halves of a whole.

you hold eye contact as you both take your first sips, until the slush hits her tongue and mari's eyes roll back in her head.

"oh my god, that's the best thing i've ever tasted," mari groans, dramatically throwing her head back in true mari fashion.

you can't even respond, you're chugging it so fast.  but then reality hits

"fuck!" you curse, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your palm against your forehead.

mari turns to you, smirking as if watching you suffer is her favorite comedy.

"brain freeze?"

"yep," you wince.  "battery acid's never tasted so good."

mari laughs, setting her cup down on the pavement.  then she turns her body fully toward yours, like she's about to say something immensely serious.  but there's still that mischievous glint in her eye that tells you she's got something up her sleeve.

"now, time to fulfill the prophecy."

you blink at her and the sudden tone shift.

"what?" you ask, giving her a concerned look.  "are you going all lottie on me?"

"no, dummy, purple tongues," she says like it's the most obvious thing ever.  "i gotta keep my promise, don't i?"

a breathless, free laugh escapes your lips.  it's been so long since mari's heard it, she thinks she might cry.

"you're so stupid," you say, though you're already leaning in.

she grabs your face with both hands, still cold from holding the cup, and pulls you into a kiss.  it's not stolen like it was before.  now it's slow and timeless, but still certain.  she kisses you like she wants to steal back every moment she thought she'd never get with you.  and you're more than willing to let her.

"love you," you whisper against her lips, her hands holding you firmly and not letting you escape her.

"love you too," she whispers back before kissing you so hard you get dizzy.

and that's how your favorite tradition is formed: you, mari, slurpees, and a whole lot of love.

[sincerelyrki]

but i love the taste of you

Heeseung never did enjoy lollipops, their overrated taste never interesting him. But perhaps tasting it from your lips could change everything. As for the laptop? It just happened to be in the perfect place, at the perfect time.

pairing : bf!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings + genre : smut. profanity. licking. biting. heeseung is lowkey obsessed. unprotected sex (pls don’t!). oral (both ways). kissing over a lollipop (trust 🙏). recording. switch!heeseung. switch!reader. little bit of degrading (just a bit, promise). spit it mentioned a few times. 18+. mdni.

wc : 3.9k

a/n : you can probably see my addiction to secondhand tasting [ cherry lips, a cherry for my cherry, and now this one… (the lollipop was def cherry flavoured in my head)] anyways, this is only my second time writing full smut so please lmk how i did! fb + rbs are always appreciated <3

Heeseung sat with his jaw clenched; hands fisting by his side as he watched your lollipop glide down your tongue, satisfying pops sounding out whenever you pulled it from your mouth. 

He felt like he was losing his mind, his patience wearing thin the longer he listened to your soft hums of delight. 

The sounds were identical to the ones he had you making just hours ago, your body still clad in nothing but his t-shirt and your cute little panties. 

You were daunting him, you had to be. There was no other explanation as to why you were making all these erotic sounds, why you were licking your lollipop in the same way you had done to him that same morning. 

Heeseung rose to a stand, feet bringing him towards you without hesitation. He stood tall in front of you, his body blocking your vision from your computer’s screen. 

“I can’t see, baby. Can you please move over?” You looked up at him over your lashes, wide eyes matching your perfectly pouted lips.

Heeseung swore under his breath, his pants tightening as he laid a firm hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lean back against the couch. 

You sat back with a smirk, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop stick. At first, you didn’t mean to make the whole scene suggestive, but you’d never pass up the opportunity to tease your boyfriend. 

You knew how easily he got turned on, how easy it was for you to turn him to putty in your hands. It wasn’t that you always took advantage of it, but there’s no harm in doing it every once in a while. 

Especially when he looked as good as he did now, his messy hair - courtesy to you- stirring your arousal as the reminder of your long morning came rolling back.

You sat still under him, your eyes never leaving his heated ones, basking in the way he glared down at you. You had been fantasizing about his reaction, about how rough he would take you.

There’s nothing that irritated Heeseung more than when his good girl teased him, but there’s also nothing that turned him on more. 

There was something about your innocent facade, your delicate eyes staring at him with the warmth of the morning sun. Something about the way you conceived everyone into thinking you were some perfect, flawless, princess. 

The way you convinced everyone that you were nothing like how you actually were, you’re just a brat wearing a pretty face. But you were only Heeseungs brat, something he proved to you whenever he could.

Heeseung turned his back towards you, bending at the waist to pick up your computer. He rolled his eyes at the rotting footage playing across from him, some random romance sitcom with no specific plot.

It was the same genre you always chose to indulge in, sitting pretty while your brain worked on autopilot to create its own interpretations of how these soulless actors would portray these tedious scenes. 

That’s when an idea hit Heeseung, one that he’d been fantasizing about since the day he first touched you. What better movie is there to watch, than the one you create with the person you love?

It was perfect, everything about it. 

And so Heeseung turned back around, putting his weight on one knee and he moved the other on your other side. He sat down on your plush thighs, straddling you as you sunk deeper into the couch. 

You had long lost eye contact your the man before you, the computer blocking your sight. You ignored the way your show suddenly turned quiet, rolling your eyes at what you thought was Heeseung being over dramatic.

But what he had done next, was something that you’d be thinking about the next time you needed some sort of relief, your hands down your parties as you pleasured yourself to the thought of your boyfriend. 

Heeseung placed the computer on the side table, the two of you fitting perfectly in frame. He barely glanced at the screen before he grabbed your jaw, one hand holding it as the other pressed down on your bottom lip.

Two sides of Heeseung’s fingers touched against the lollipop in your mouth, sandwiching it between his fingers as he pried your mouth open. 

You looked up at Heeseung in shock, the lollipop sitting loose in your mouth as you allowed him to control your body in the ways he wanted. 

“You know, I’m not a huge fan of lollipops…” Heeseung trailed off, his fingers crawling from your mouth and onto your tongue. He swiped two fingers across the sugary surface of the lollipop, trailing it in a line across one side of the candy.

He then dragged his fingers from the lollipop, across your tongue, and to your lips. He used his fingers to rub the sweetness across your mouth, a sweet coat of sugar replacing your long smudged lipgloss.

“But I love the taste of you.” He used the same two fingers to pull the candy from your mouth, leaning it to vertically press against your lips. He leaned down to your face, pressing his lips to the other side of the lollipop.

He then angled the stick in a way that allowed the lollipop to stick in the middle of both of your lips, the taste transferring to the both of you. 

He closed his eyes, uncaring of the fact that yours were wide open and staring directly at him. He gently stuck out his tongue, removing his lips enough to run his tongue across the side of the lollipop.

He turned his head as his tongue slowly moved across it, eventually meeting the end and ending on the corner of your lips.

Heeseung stayed in that position, his lips barely touching yours as he let out a quiet hum, licking the sugar off his lips as he reopened his eyes. “Delicious” He pressed a small peck to the side of your lips, pulling back to sit up straight.

Heeseung was still holding the lollipop to your lips, only this time he turned the stick so the end was facing towards his chest, the candy facing towards your mouth.

He made a show of opening his mouth, sticking out his tongue as he let a hushed “a” sound leave his lips.

He gave you a small smirk as you followed his command, lips opening wide as you stuck your tongue out the same way. “Good girl” Heeseung cooed at you in a tone that was anything but proud. 

He pushed the candy back in your mouth, using his other hand to close your jaw around it. “You’re so pretty like this, with your dirty lips wrapped around something.” Heeseung quirked an amused eyebrow as you responded to his degrading words with a whine, furrowed eyebrows staring up at him.

“Oh? You don’t look pretty with something in your mouth?” You whined again, eyebrows furrowing even more. Heeseung tilted his head to the side, face pulling up in an unfamiliar way.

 “Lips aren’t dirty” You tried speaking through your closed mouth, words barely recognizable. Heeseung humorlessly chucked at your words, a proud grin settling on his face.

“M’sorry baby, you have the prettiest lips.” Your forehead smoothed as you sunk back down, satisfied with his answer. “Should we show the camera?”

Heeseung leaned over to grab the laptop, his teeth on display as he replayed your reaction in his head. The way your body tensed at his words, eyes widening a fraction and legs jolting. 

“You must think I'm dumb, don’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” You were filled with the same desires as Heeseung, your fantasy of recording each other haunting you every time you have sex. 

“I know my dumb baby too well, there isn’t anything I haven’t already seen.” Heeseung was now watching their reflection on the screen, his desire growing as he watched the way you began pushing against him. 

“Is my baby getting needy?” Through the screen he watched as you rapidly nodded, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop. “Good, let’s show the camera how pretty your lips are first.”

Heeseung brought the laptop up between the two of you, holding it near your chest as he stared down at you, “hold it.” 

With the laptop held securely in your hands, Heeseung turned his attention back to your candy. This time, he opened your mouth in a different way. 

He pushed down on the lollipop, forcing your mouth to open due to the pressure. He slowly slid it out from your mouth, his mouth salivating as the sweet scent reached his nose. 

The camera got a close-up of the way a small string of saliva connected from your mouth to the candy, caught the way it disappeared as Heeseung’s head swooped in from over the laptop as pressed against yours.

Filthy sounds filled the room, your messy kiss being caught from a lowered angle. Though many might now think the angle would be ideal, it was nothing less than perfect.

It perfectly captured the way Heeseung’s tongue wrapped around yours, the way your head chased after his as he pulled back to change angles. 

It caught everything, including your pretty moans. 

Heeseung carelessly tossed the lollipop behind him, the table close enough for it to land on without having to look. He moved both of his hands to wrap around your waist, his hands pressing down on your curves.

“Wait, let me fix the camera” You stuttered mid-sentence, mouth refusing to leave his as you placed the laptop on the couch beside the two of you, everything above your knees visible. 

Heeseung slid his hands under your shift, sliding it up and over your head in a vast movement, disconnecting your lips for no more than five seconds before pressing against you again.

His hands squeezed at your skin, his hands coming up to grope at you.

Your head tilted back with a loud moan as he disconnected your lips to kiss the exposed skin at the top of your bra, his hands pushing your tits up as he sucked dark marks onto your skin.

He acted like a man who’d never seen a pair of breasts before, ravaging them like a starved man. He moved lower down your legs as he undid your bra, kissing and sucking spots along his path until he reached your pants. 

Heeseung slid off the couch, slotting himself between your open legs as he bit along your lower stomach, kissing your stretch marks as he appreciated your entire body. 

“My girl is so pretty, the prettiest girl in the world.” He mumbled out, sounding drunk off your skin. “So so pretty” He repeated over and over as he placed more and more kisses.

He slid his hands back down towards your legs, fingers wrapping around your waistline before he looked up at you, eyes hooded as he waited for your consent. 

At your nod, Heeseung quickly undid your pants, pulling them down and off your legs. Your panties quickly followed, getting tossed across the room in a random pile that would soon be joined by his clothes. 

Due to the shift of weight, the laptop toppled over to the side, landing in the perfect view of Heeseung between your legs. It was a sight worth millions, the sight of a man who was actually willing to sacrifice anything to get a taste of pussy. 

Heeseung pulled your legs over his shoulder, using his hands to pull your body closer to his face. His eyes closed with a loud hum, the familiar smell enveloping his senses in the most pleasurable way possible.

“You smell so good, I love you so much” Heeseung spoke once before placing a small kiss against your folds, one of his hands coming up to spread you for him.

He gave your inner thigh one last kiss before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your clit as his vibrations caused mass pleasure to wring out across your body. 

Your back arched as his tongue circled you, your sensitive nerves reacting to his loving movements. Heeseung always started slow, paying attention to your most pleasurable parts as he submerged himself into you.

His tongue was now replaced with his thumb, fast circled getting rubbed against you as he stuck his tongue flat against your opening, slowly curling it as he collected whatever juices he could. 

A mixture of his spit and your arousal was nothing more than his wettest dreams, the taste automatically beating the one of the sugary lollipops. He could happily drown within you, the only way he’d ever want to go. 

After a few minutes of prolonging your orgasm, he finally decided to finish it off, bringing you to your most craved high. 

He pushed his fingers into you, his tongue replacing the spot his thumb was moments prior. As good as Heeseung’s fingers felt, nothing compared to his tongue.

It felt like magic, the way he was able to make you feel so much in such a short amount of time. Your back arched as your legs quivered around his head, thighs tightening around his head as your heels dug into his clothes back. 

Broken moans left your lips, the sound rising the more you felt the waves coming up. Heeseung felt it too, the way you clenched around his fingers while your hips began rocking against your face.

He used the hand that was wrapped around one of your tights to go up and press against your lower stomach, pushing on it as your high washed over you. 

Loud slurps and moans filled the room, your breath caught in your throat as your back arched as far as it could. Heeseung felt you through it, both his fingers and to continue moving unrelentingly.

“Too much.” You gently shinned, legs still shaking as Heeseung licked you clean. He hummed against you, removing his fingers as he finished off, “I know baby, I know.”

Heeseung sat back up, one of his hands grabbing at the bottom of his shit to pull it off his head. You watched through tired eyes as your boyfriend palmed himself through his pants, head tilting forwards as his eyes stayed glued to your face.

It was a habit that Heeseung couldn’t seem to shake, the action starting when your relationship first started. You used to get shy after Heeseung ate you out, cheeks heating up as you tried hiding yourself.

Obviously, you weren’t shy anymore, the hundreds of minutes he’d spent between your legs long swishing that shyness. 

While you were calming down and preparing yourself again, Heeseung busied himself with getting undressed. He removed each article of clothing, throwing them roughly in the same direction as yours. 

The sight of your boyfriend bare before your eyes caused your body to light up with electricity once again, legs tingling as you obsessed with the way his cock twitched at your watchful eyes.

Heeseung leaned down to grab the laptop, placing it on the table that it was on, to begin with, one that gave it the sight of the entire couch. 

You changed positions, turning your back towards the roof as you crawled towards one side of the couch, arching your back for your boyfriend as you playfully looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I’m not going to fuck myself.” You fluttered your eyelashes, arousal growing as Heeseung playfully snickered at you in disbelief. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you so good.”

He kneels on the couch behind you, hands spreading your ass as he pushes himself to glide between your lips. He coated himself with your wetness before sinking into you, bottoming out as you pushed yourself back into him. 

His nails dug into your love handles, grabbing them for stability as he pushed himself into you. His head fell back as he felt himself continuously bottom out.

It was rare that you went without a condom, and there was no better feeling than the friction of your bare skin rubbing together. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” A loud pitch moan left your lips in response, a little more dramatic due to the camera recording you. 

Heeseung could feel himself losing control, the warm feeling of being inside of you chasing his hips to push into you harder. 

Quiet swears left his lips as he found his constant pace, hips hitting against yours as he leaned over your back, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your hands. 

He pushed your hands down against the couch, his new angle allowing him to get more depth. 

“Please, I want to cum whilst riding you.” Heeseung swore one last time before pulling out, flipping your position as he leaned his back against the back of the couch. 

Your feet pressed against his legs, hips raised as you used your hand to place his dick against you. You circled his tip around your entrance one time before you sunk onto him, hand moving down to play with his balls as you bounced up and down. 

Heeseung threw his head back, eyes narrowing to slits as his pleasure weighed down his body. One of his hands rubbed up your body, grabbing your chest as the other squeezed the soft skin of your waist. 

He turned his attention toward the area where the two of you were connected, his mouth drying as he watched a ring of white froth form at his base. 

His abdominal muscles contracted as he trusted his hips forward, louder clapping filling the room as he changed the tempo. 

There was a moment where both of your eyes met, the primal desire mirroring back through your own reflections. Heeseung gave you a small smirk, one side of his mouth quirking up.

He winked at you once before he grabbed your hand, his fingers wrapping around the entirety of yours as he brought it to grab his neck.

“Use me” You tightened your hand around his neck at his suddenly sultry whisper, knees burning as you dropped against him harder. 

You bent forward, chest bumping against him as you used your hands to tilt his head back, his hair falling back to reveal his damp forehead. 

You pressed your tongue against the top of his sternum, licking a strip up until your nose touched his earlobe, teeth replacing its spot as you bit down on him.

His back arched beneath you, small sounds leaving his lips as you marked him. You treated his neck the same way you had the lollipop, using him the way he liked. 

“You feel so good.” Heeseung breathlessly praised you, his voice coming out higher than usual. It was easy to tell when Heeseung was getting close, the way he started touching your body more. 

Even with Heeseung under you, he always made sure you came undone first. The way your pleasure contoured your body caused his own long-awaited high to multiply tens fold. 

Though the feeling of his skin against yours caused a euphoric sensation to ring out across your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him a little more.

You halted your body, palms pushing down on your boyfriend's hips to stop his constant buckling.

“I want to make you feel good before.” You rose higher on your knees, only his tip remaining in as you shot him your best attempt of an innocent smile.

Heeseung tried not to let your words affect him, the pleasure that faded with the lack of stimulation returning at the thought of your lips wrapping around him.

“I much prefer you over the lollipop, nothing compares to the way you fill me.” 

Heeseung let out a shaky breath as his left leg began to shake, arms flexing as he fisted the cushions under him. “Fuck, do whatever you’d like, I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me.”

You removed him from you completely, your palm reaching up towards his lips as you looked at him with an expected gaze. Heeseung puckered his lips out, a sizable drop of spit landing between the crevices of your fingers. 

“That’s not enough.” You clicked your tongue at him, faux disapproval seeping out through your lips as you pulled your hand away from him. “You’re lucky I'm still wet, I'll just have to do it myself.”

You reached down, fingers collecting your wetness before you wrapped your hand back around him. Heeseung’s mouth fell open as you placed a small kiss against the base of his shaft, a trail of kisses following your hand as you slowly moved it up.

A sudden whimper left his mouth as you hollowed your cheeks around him, the suction perfectly squeezing around him. 

His sounds only rose as you added your tongue, the soft muscle tracing along his prominent vein. He almost forgot about the laptop, a small red light reminding him of the almost hour-long video. 

He stared directly into the camera, maximizing his expressions knowing that sooner or later, you’d be watching this back. He knew what got you off, what he could do to make you feel as good as possible. 

It was completely mutual, your knowledge of his body aiding in drawing out a loud, genuine, sound from his pretty lips. 

His back lifted from the couch, body flinching as your finger pressed against his perineum, sharp shocks of pleasure shooting across his body.

His breath caught in his chest as his hand shot out to grab your head, your hair fisting in his hands as he pushed you down further.

He didn’t stop, not even after hearing your choking sounds. As said before, he knew exactly what you liked.

 He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed being choked, you just experienced it differently. 

You continued stimulating his prostate through his perineum, spit dribbling down from the corners of your lips as you drew him closer to his orgasm.

He barely warned you before letting go in your mouth, the only telltale being the trembling of his legs. 

You tried your best to swallow everything he gave you, his familiar salty taste replacing the coating of sweetness in your throat. 

You pulled back, tongue peaking out to lap at the drops you had missed before, cleaning him from your shared mess. 

Heeseung panted from above you, his eyes closed as his heart pounded loudly in his chest. He felt the way you raised from your knees, your hand wrapping around his jaw as you pulled him in for a messy kiss.

The taste of himself no longer caused any reaction, he’d long gotten used to tasting himself on your tongue after you’d gone down on him.

“You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” Heeseung said completely seriously, masking the truth behind his words with a joking tone. 

“That’s just the way I like it.” You replied back, scooting back to rest your head against the arm of the couch, legs spreading for your boyfriend to get a good view of what you were going to do next. 

“I’m ready when you are, show me how good you can treat me.” You never looked away from his eyes as you pressed your finger down against your clit, basking in the way his cock twitched at you.

“Or are you too tired?” Heeseung rolled his eyes at you, his body moving to hover over yours as he pushed himself between your legs.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You returned his wolfish grin, hand leaving your body to grab his waist, pulling his hips against yours. 

“Show me.”

[menagerofmischief]

Can I please have cold stuffed cherry tomatoes, sausage rolls, tomato soup and kebab with boba, rose and mocha coffee served by Lando Norris? And a little dessert too 💕 my favorite track is Zandvoort

stuffed cherry tomatoes sugar daddy cold appetizer rough sex sausage rolls "I'll make it fit" tomato soup "Running away from my dick? I don't think so" kebab "Look at that, my cock is splitting you in half" boba anal rose spanking mocha coffee degradation dessert aftercare + matcha toys

Lando Norris x sugar baby!girlfriend!reader

TW: unprotected sex, cumming inside, PiA, anal, fingering, toys , size kink

WC: 2.1k

A/N: sugar daddy lando implied but not specified. also anal is like my biggest opp so I hope this doesn't suck

I stared at the track ahead of me from the comfortable space of McLaren’s hospitality. Everyone was quiet from the moment the last lap started, waiting for the result. I twisted the Cartier love bracelet Lando bought me a few weeks ago, insisting I needed to match with him, as I watched the race.

But my thoughts were somewhere else. All I could think about while watching Lando approaching the finish, heading for a win, was a conversation the two of us had last week at Lando’s (mine as well, I suppose) Monaco apartment.

✿ ✿ ✿

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something,” Lando said, breaking the comfortable silence we had fallen into right after sex, both of us too tired to move.

“Oh, have you?” I asked, sucking in a sharp breath when I felt his fingers run through my folds, collecting some of his cum that spilled from me. “Lando,” I said, my voice breathless as his fingers slipped and moved down to my ass, rubbing around my other hole.

He hummed, his fingers, lubed with his own cum still tracing circles around my anal opening. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you here.” He said, his voice deep and dripping with desire. “Taking you fully. Your ass is the only part of you I haven’t fucked yet, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying my best to keep myself composed. “I’ve never done that before.”

He growled, placing a kiss on the side of my neck. “That makes it all the sweeter, baby. That I could be the first to have you like that.”

I looked at him, we were laying on our sides, facing each other. His eyes were dark, intensely focused on me. I was quiet for a moment, thinking about his proposition.

Lando waited, patiently. But his hand never moved away.

Finally, I swallowed, opening my mouth to speak. “I’ll make you deal,” I said, my voice cracking. “You win the race next week, and I’ll let you fuck my ass.”

Lando smirked, moving his fingers away from my hole, and grabbing my ass. “Deal,” he said, the tone of his voice letting me know he was already planning the whole thing out in his head.

✿ ✿ ✿

The whole garage erupted in cheers when Lando crossed the finish line. Everyone was up on their feet and screaming in happiness as the signs displayed Lando as the winner. Bringing him another 25 points and further confirming McLaren’s position in the constructors championship.

I was still lost inside of my own head as I made my way outside just in time to see Lando getting out of his car. He took off his helmet and balaclava, shaking his head to move his hair that was stuck to his forehead.

He turned towards the crowd and his eyes met mine. A smile stretched over his lips as he ran up to me and hugged me over the fence. His hands wrapped around me possessively, his lips brushing my ear. “I hope you’re ready for tonight,” he said, his breath hot against my skin. “Because I’m excited for my reward.”

He pulled away, lips drawn in a smirk and eyes gleaming. Lando leaned down, giving me a hard kiss before moving along to shake hands with the rest of his team and then going to do interviews.

✿ ✿ ✿

Lando was impatient. I knew that from the moment he found me after the interview and dragged me back to the car, throwing some bullshit line about how he was too tired to go clubbing and would rather have a nice evening in, to his friends.

His hand stayed on my thigh the whole time he was driving us back to the hotel, making me squirm in my seat,  and once we made it to the elevator his lips were on me as soon as the door closed. 

“Lan,” I said, trying to catch my breath as the elevator finally came to our floor. “Come on, this is our floor.”

Lando dragged me out the moment that the elevator doors opened, his grip tight around my wrist. He swiped the card and pushed me inside of the door, slamming the door shut.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I wainted for this.” He said, pressing his lips against mine in a bruising kiss as he groped my breasts. “Been hard ever since I got out of the fucking car.”

His fingers moved to unzip my dress, fingers fumbling with the zipper before he roughly tugged at it and the sound of material ripping filled the room.

“Lando!” I said, as he pushed what was no longer a wearable dress down my body and onto the floor. “The dress -”

He cut me off by roughly spanking my ass, the sound of it echoing through the room. “I bought it, I can rip it.” He growled, his hands squeezing my ass. He pushed my panties off, his fingers dipping between my ass cheeks and then he froze and I knew he felt it.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes meeting mine, the expression on his face unreadable. “What’s this baby?” He asked, his fingers brushing the edge of the butt plug I was wearing.

I giggled, placing my hands on his chest, my fingers working on unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s say,” I started, pushing his shirt off his body and running my hands over his naked chest. “I was confident you were going to win today.”

Lando groaned, leaning towards me enough for his lips to brush mine but not actually kissing me. “I’m going to destroy you,” he said, his voice rough and leaving no room for argument.

Before I could even begin to think of my reply Lando pushed me towards the bed. He pulled off his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, before sitting down on the bed. I looked at him, confused but the confusion was quickly gone when he pulled me over his lap.

“Lan, what are you doing?” I asked, not entirely used to this position. Sure, he had spanked me over his knee before but I was totally unprepared this time. He brought one of his hands down roughly, smacking one of my ass cheeks, making me yelp.

“That’s for making me wait.” He said, then hit my other cheek with enough force to make me jolt slightly forward. “And that’s for being a naughty girl and wearing a butt plug under your dress this whole time without telling me.”

He spread my ass cheeks and for a second he was silent before he spat between them, causing me to gasp at the feeling. “Look at you,” he said, his fingers running along my ass, collecting some of his spit. “Such a dirty little whore - and all for me.”

His fingers wrapped around the top of the plug, before he pulled it out of me, making me whine at the loss of fullness. I heard squirting of liquid and barely managed to turn around enough to see Lando putting lube on his fingers.

With no warning he pushed two of his fingers inside of my ass, replacing the plug. He started thrusting them into me slowly, dragging out each movement. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and take my cock?” He asked, slightly speeding up the movement of his fingers.

I nodded, my hair falling over my eyes and blocking my vision. “Yes!” I whined, feeling my clit rub against his leg when he flexed his thigh, making me even more desperate. “Please Lando, need your cock! Need you to fuck my ass.”

That seemed to be enough for him. Wasting no time, Lando pulled me up and manhandled me onto the beg, pushing me onto my hands and knees. He stood behind me, gently rubbing one of his hands along my back while he squirted lube onto his dick with the other.

Once he lubed himself up, he moved the hand on my back so it was holding my waist, and then started slowly pushing himself inside of me.

The head of his cock slipped in and I found myself moaning out into the pillow below me. “Hurts!” I whined, because while I had stretched my ass a bit to prepare for this particular thing I had forgotten exactly how big Lando was. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, the dominant facade cracking. I knew that if I wanted to stop he would, no questions asked, but that wasn’t what I wanted.

I shook my head, “No, don’t stop.”

He chuckled, slightly gripping my waist. “Then what’s the problem, baby?”

“Too big!”

“Too big?” He laughed, his tone mocking. “Oh, don’t worry sweet girl, I’ll make it fit.”

He waited a moment before pushing himself inside an inch more. I moaned at the feeling of him stretching my ass but the moan was quickly replaced by a scream as he roughly thrust the rest of his length into me.

Lando’s hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head up from the pillow I had buried it into. “See, I told you it would fit. I’ll always fit in you, you’re my whore afterall. Made to take my dick perfectly.”

He started out with an experimental thrust and when I moaned he began slowly speeding up. “Fuck, look at that,” Lando groaned. “My cock is splitting you in half.”

His thrusts became rougher and faster, his slapping against mine with each thrusts, his balls hitting against my clit. The stimulation was increasing and I hadn’t even realized I was trying to push myself towards the headboard until Lando’s arm wrapped around my stomach and he pulled me backwards, impaling me on his dick.

“Running away from my dick baby?” He questioned, his voice holding a mocking edge. “I don’t think so.”

I felt like my body was burning from all the stimulation I was experiencing and when Lando’s hand sneaked around my body and his finger started rubbing my clit my arms turned into jelly. No longer having the strength to support my upper body, I let myself fall deeper into the mattress, my face buried in the pillow.

“Lando, so good!” I whined, the sound of my voice muffled by the pillow. “Gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

Lando’s fingers started rubbing circled on my clit faster, his hips speeding up as well, his thrusts becoming feral and desperate as he brought me closer to my orgasm while also chasing his own.

I knew Lando was close when I felt him twist inside of me. One of his hands grasped my hair, lifting my head up. “Cum for me, baby!” He said with a slight growl.

That was all it took to tip me over the edge and I was cumming, tightening around nothing as Lando filled my ass up with his cum.

“Fuck baby, that was so hot!” Lando said, pulling his softening dick out of me with a wet pop once he slipped all the way outside. “Think we can do it again sometimes?”

“Yeah,” I said, finally allowing my body to collapse onto the bed. “We should definitely do it again sometimes.”

I heard shuffling and felt Lando getting off the bed. He slipped inside the bathroom, leaving the door open and then I heard the sound of water running.

He came back, offering me his hands and I grabbed them, allowing him to pull me up into a sitting position, slightly wincing at the ghost of pain. “I don’t think I can quiet walk yet, Lan.”

“That’s okay, baby.” He offered me a gentle smile before picking me up. Lando carried me to the bathroom and then gently put me down into the bathtub.

I moved a bit forward, making space for him to get in behind me which he did, and then leaned back, pressing my back against his chest. I hummed at the warm water, running my hands through the bubbles.

“You even made bubbles,” I said, my voice hoarse from how loud I had been. 

Lando laughed, his hands gently caressing my skin as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss onto my cheek. “Of course I did. How could I forget how important the bubbles are for my girl? I love you, baby.”

I smiled, melting back into him, “I love you too, Lan.”

[tpwk-formula1]

hi! I saw your menu was back and had to request something.

I'd like to be served by Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell.

to start with I'd like to order a sicilian crust pizza with red sauce.

for toppings I'll have: salami, garlic, roasted asparagus, cherry tomatoes, turkey meatballs and basil

to drink I'll have: sweet tea, boba (but I'm thinking more like double penetration if you're okay with that), vodka redbull and sprite

also, yes to dessert

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

AN - Finally! I am so sorry this took me far longer than I wanted but I kid you not I have deleted and rewrote this request at least 2 times but I'm finally content with it! I hope you love and enjoy the fic!

TW - Threesome, squirting, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, MDNI 18+

WC - 1.5K

sicilian crust dating red sauce rough sex salami "You’re gonna get an attitude adjustment if you keep being a brat” garlic "I know you love it when I fill that pretty pussy with my cum" roasted asparagus "Stop trying to get away. Just be a good girl and take it" cherry tomatoes "Gonna regret it tomorrow when you can’t sit right" turkey meatballs “Stop crying, I’m far from done” basil "I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy" sweet tea dumbification boba anal (DP) vodka redbull squirting sprite size kink dessert yes served by Max Fewtrell and Lando Norris

Y/N POV

"Gonna regret it tomorrow when you can’t sit right" I hear my boyfriend of a year hiss in my ear.

"Max what?" I snap looking at him slightly confused.

"Why is it that every time you disappear and I find you, you're with Verstappen," he whispers back not really answering my question but giving me enough to make me laugh slightly.

"Oh you think this is funny?" Max questions while still pulling me through the busy club back to where Lando was seated with my drink.

"No Max, I think you leaving me alone for several hours and still being jealous because I was hanging out with the only other person I knew. Where the fuck did you two go? Left me alone looking stupid and for what? A quick fuck without me," I seethe back annoyed that he was the one mad.

"I'm not jealous. I'm pissed that I couldn't find my girlfriend when I went to the bathroom for no more than 10 minutes," Max snaps back making me roll my eyes slightly.

I climb into the booth and grabbing the bottle of tequila out of the ice bin and pouring myself and shot and quickly taking it without a second thought.

"Did you not fuck him good enough? Like damn why is he so fucking pissy," I say clearly letting the alcohol do some of the talking for me.

"Really? Don't turn your differences with each other onto me," Lando tells me before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"He's just stressed about the WDC which is weird since he's not the one racing," Lando tells me softly while we watch Max come near us and sit down next to me.

"I'm mad at you," I tell him making him shake his head.

"You'll get over it when I fuck the attitude out of you. I heard the little comment you made to Lando," Max whisper in my ear making me shiver slightly.

"Piss off, Max. I'm so tired of your weird bullshit possessiveness when it comes to Verstappen," I tell him back which quickly has Max wrapping his hand around my neck choking me slightly.

"You really are gonna get an attitude adjustment if you keep being a brat," Max tells me. Before leaning down and smashing his lips on mine clearly still frustrated. I kiss him back before I start feeling Lando and his wandering hands.

"We're in public," I whisper softly which has Lando groaning and standing up before pulling both Max and I up.

"Watching you two fight turns me on," Lando admits as we weave our way out of the club and quickly finding a cab to take up back to our apartment.

When we get back to our place Max makes quick work of stripping Lando and I out of our clothes before pushing me onto the bed so I'm positioned on my hands and knees. Once I arch my back I feel Max land a harsh spank right on my left ass cheek.

"Fuck," I whimper when I feel another on land on my ass. Suddenly I see Lando come onto the bed and sit down right in front of me. I instantly reach for his cock and pull it into my mouth.

"Fuck," Lando groans when my tongue starts swirling around his sensitive tip before I sink my mouth down taking all of Lando's cock into my mouth.

I feel Lando's hands tangle into my hair and start helping me bob my head up and down his cock while I can hear Max undressing himself before I feel the tip of his cock teasing my clit making me whimper around Lando's cock.

Once Max starts pushing in I moan loudly which is easily muffled due to my mouth being stuffed. When I feel Max bottom out in my pussy I pull my mouth off Lando's cock and let out a loud moan.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," Max groans making me clench slightly from his words only making Max fuck me faster.

Lando pushes me back down on his cock making me gag almost instantly with how rough he is fucking into my mouth. I can feel the tears starting to streak down my cheeks.

“Stop crying, I’m far from done,” Lando groans while fucking into my face a bit harder. With Max still fucking into my soaked pussy I can feel him hitting my G-spot over and over again making my orgasm start to build.

"I'm close," I whimper out pulling off of Lando's cock for a split second before he pushes me back down and Max starts fucking me harder.

When I feel my orgasm hit I pull off of Lando's cock with a shout while I feel myself start squirting all over the bed.

"Fuck, you have the prettiest pussy when you cum," Max groans while he pulls out and pushes me towards Lando to climb into his lap.

Once I'm close enough to Lando he pulls me to him and instantly sinks me down on his cock while I hear Max grabbing something out of the night stand.

"He's gonna fuck your ass," Lando groans into my ear making me clench around Lando.

"Fuck," I whisper when I feel a drop of cold lube hit my puckered ass.

When I feel Max sink in a couple fingers I throw my head back moaning which has Max using his free hand to choke me while he continues to fuck my ass with his fingers.

When Max feels like he's stretched my ass enough he releases my throat and I lean down and pull Lando in for a kiss while he continues to buck up into my pussy.

When I feel Max lining up his cock with my ass I instinctively clench before doing my best to relax.

"Oh God," I cry out when Max starts slowly pushing into my ass filling me up in ways I have never been filled.

"Fuck, shit, so tight," Max grits out through clenched teeth once he's fully seated in my ass.

Lando and Max both start rocking their hips successfully fucking into me making me whimper.

"Fuck," I cry out feeling another orgasm start to build up deep in the pit of my stomach.

Lando starts thrusting up, deep into my pussy at a fast a brutal pace bringing me towards my orgasm far faster than the one previously.

"Fuck, cum for us pretty girl," Lando groans out before sneaking a hand between our bodies and rubbing my clit.

"Oh God," I cry out while cum oncee again. Neither one of the boys slow down helping me ride out my orgasm as well as successfully overstimulating me making me try to crawl my body away.

I move myself up a few inches before Max roughly grabs my hips from behind and pulls me back into him and Lando filling me up once again.

"Stop trying to get away. Just be a good girl and take it," Max groans out through gritted teeth making me whimper clearly getting lost in the pleasure.

"Too much," I somehow whimper out but instead of slowing down both of the boys speed up their actions making me whimper and moan loudly not being able to form any words.

"Look, she's so fucked out," Lando says while smirking only making me whimper more feeling another orgasm building up.

"Fuck, she's so desperate she's gonna cum again. We're gonna fill your tight little hole up," Max groans from behind me making me whimper and nod my head.

"I know you love it when we fill those pretty holes up with our cum," Lando groans while speeding up his trusting slightly before he sends one final rough thrust deep into my pussy before unleashing a massive cumshot deep into my pussy making a me whimper.

With Lando no longer roughly fucking into my pussy Max starts fucking into my ass harder throwing me over the edge.

"Oh fuck," I cry out while pulling off Lando's cock slightly while squirting my pleasure all over him.

"Fuck, I love when you squirt," Lando groans while throwing his head back.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," Max groans while sending one final thrust deep into my ass and unleashing a rope after rope of cum in my ass.

When Max finally comes down from his orgasm he slowly pulls out of my ass before sitting back and watching my hole leak their cum.

"I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty holes," Max groans before slowly getting out of bed and placing a soft kiss on both mine and Lando's forehead before going into the connected bathroom and grabbing a warm towel.

He quickly wipes me down and lightly wipes Lando down before climbing into bed and pulling me off Lando's chest and onto his.

"I'll work on not being so jealous," Max mumbles making me laugh slightly.

"If you fuck me like that every time I talk to Verstappen I might start getting a Red bull pass," I joke which makes Max pinch my side as a warning.

"I rather like you in my garage," Lando says while turning on his side and pulling my back into his chest so I'm still slightly laying on Max's side but I'm still spooning with Lando as well. It doesn't take any of us very long to fall asleep wrapped in each others arms.

[pupyuj]

hi ena! long time no ask!!

with the recent miumiu wonyoung photos GOSHH MY MIND IS SPINNINGGF WITH THOUGHTSS😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

dubcon!!

what if…princess jang who comes from a wealthy noble family purchases you to be her pretty slave😁 the thing is you weren’t even being sold as one despite your family leaning towards the poorer class😱turns out she randomly spotted you at a market and ordered her people to do anything and everything just to have you in the palm of her hands! crazy!!!!! one day you were just taken away from your family! GOSH imagine the princess wonyoung herself carrying you to her room and gently laying you down on her bed🥺but, being the brat that you are you scratched and clawed at her, trying to resist her advances bc u were so so scared and confused :(( eventually, the remaining patience she had for you snaps and she just fucks you hard to remind you of your place!!!! u were nothing but her stupid little slut to use whenever she wanted :(

(she starts off really gentle with you but fucks you rough and hard for being so rude and disobedient to he princess☹️)

omg yk that video of her sliding off her gloves to sign for a fan?? IMAGINE IF SHE DOES THAT BEFORE FINGERING YOU UNTIL URE IN TEARS BEGGING HER TO STOPPP UGHH😫😩😩

- 🍒

MY FAVORITE CHERRY ANON!! i know, i know this ask took me forever to do again but we're all probably used to it to it to the point where i don't even have to address it 😭 since the photos are now not-so-recent, i'll attach them here so everybody can visualize it well hehehe 🤭

(@ CHERRY ANON IK YOU'RE WONDERING IF I AM ALSO WORKING ON THAT OTHER WONY ASK THAT YOU SENT AND I'M GONNA BE HONEST I THINK I DELETED IT?? which sucks bcs i was JUST thinking of answering it too just now until i realized it was nowhere to be found so IF UR STILL UP FOR IT AND IF YOU REMEMBER THE GIST, FEEL FREE TO SEND IT AGAIN! pretty sure it was about sororities?? 🤔)

p.s. you guys are crazy if you think i'm not gonna give this ask some meat (aka mini lore) so if this happens to be a long one that's why! 😭😭

[cw: extreme dubcon, (eventually) cnc, coercion, bondage, mild violence, obsessive-possessive princess!wony WOOO.]

you were happy as a commoner, okay!? even though your fate was sealed as a middle-class man's stay-at-home wife and child bearer in the future, you were going to make the most of your life despite it all! but that was before you encountered her highness jang wonyoung while you were out to shop for new formal robes. oh, sorry, you didn't 'encounter' her—she saw you animatedly chatting with the nice young clerk at the apparel shop and became obsessed fell in love at first sight 😍😍

your whole life took a whole other turn when a couple knights knocked on your door and took you from your family by force and with only a brief answer when asked: "her highness wills it so." 🥲 your family was then visited by the princess' retainer to give them a more detailed explanation of the whole situation but you didn't know that. you didn't have to. what only mattered from then on was whatever the fuck wonyoung wanted with you... and it was everything you anticipated it to be! almost.

nobles were all the same, after all. and the worst among them was the royalty. you half expected to have been stripped down in the carriage by the knights and dragged throughout the castle naked and bare before they throw you inside the princess' quarters where she would be more than ready to just... ravage you, but that didn't turn out to be true. not all the way! you made it to the doors of the castle with your clothes still on you and you weren't just haphazardly thrown inside the princess' room... the knights were given special instructions to treat you like glass! or else the princess would have their heads if they so much as scratched your beautiful, delicate skin.

wonyoung herself met you at the doors of the great hall, actually! she couldn’t contain her excitement because finally, she found someone that she knew was going to satisfy all her needs and make the perfect wife! never mind that you were some lowly commoner, you were beyond perfect in the princess’ eyes!

“do you know me… (y/n)?” you don’t even want to know how she just knew your name. you were confused, terrified, and furious all at the same time and wonyoung loved it. anybody else would have been scrambling to kiss her feet and beg for forgiveness even though they knew they did nothing wrong… but of course you’d be different. wonyoung was so happy.

nevertheless, you plucked up whatever courage you had left in yourself and answered her question, “the crown princess… jang wonyoung.” even the way you said her name was impeccable! ah, how wonyoung couldn’t wait to make you hers completely… and that’s exactly what she attempts to do once she took you to her room but of course, you fought back! 🥺

kicking and hitting wonyoung whenever she tried to get close to you on the bed, even shrieking and screaming for help just in case there was a servant who felt sorry enough to interrupt but who in their right mind would dare get in the way of the princess? 🤨 it was when you scratched her chin that she finally had enough of your shit and straight-up whacked you across the face... her highness has never had to use violence to gain control and advantage but goodness you really pushed all the wrong buttons!!

somehow it wasn't the painful sting on your cheek that made you settle down... bcs if you weren't directly staring at the small, bleeding cuts you've made on wonyoung's chin, you would've made an even bigger fuss when she roughly undressed you! sure, you feared the consequences of literally hurting the princess wonyoung but... she was still a beautiful woman!! what you did was like the equivalent of defacing a famed painter's greatest work—you definitely deserve whatever punishment was waiting for you 🫢🫢

wony won’t take your resistance seriously once she’s seen how drenched you are for her! she only takes that as a sign that she was welcome.. and that you did, in fact, want this! 🤭 she assumed that you can take her at whatever pace she decides to go with bcs you were a commoner that was gorgeous and deliciously naïve… surely you’ve been passed around before right?? but no… you were a virgin :(( but you were taking wonyoung’s fingers so well… meeting her thrusts halfway as if you’ve always known how to do it like that… moaning “your highness” so nicely against her ear that it gave her goosebumps… so ofc wony ignores your tears and your pleas to stop when you’ve already cum many times 🫠

but ah you were really testing her!! wony was bound to get some bruises with the way you’ve kicked and hit her so much… so she ties your hands up above your head and your legs spread apart with either ankle tied down at the edge of the bed! this way it would be much, much easier to punish you 🤭 she’s definitely relentless when using her mouth… esp since she just got a taste of her new food and oh, were you delectable…!

wonyoung couldn’t get enough… using her tongue on you over and over again throughout the night whilst talking to you about how perfect your life was going to be now that you were with her… and she very much liked how you didn’t even fight her words anymore! she knew that even though you cried gallons of tears and made your voice hoarse from wailing and moaning you wouldn’t dare look back on your past life anymore! 🤭

since then your daily activities as the crown princess’ future consort was to look pretty, study in both academics and noble etiquette, and most importantly, tending to wonyoung’s… needs 🫠🫠 you knew that every servant, knight, and nobles that frequented the castle talked badly about you. how a peasant managed to captivate the princess’ heart with ease. their words cut through you pretty badly but wonyoung was always there every night to mend your wounds… always.

you didn’t even care that wonyoung fucked you too hard anymore! bcs she has somehow led you to believe that she was the only one in this world that loved you and can stand to love someone like you 🫣 and you only believed her bcs you did feel her love with every thrust of her fingers, every disgusting thing that she whispers in your ears while she fucked you, every flick of her tongue as she ate you out, every bite on your lips when she kisses you. you were only right to love her back in spite of everything else bcs… like wonyoung always assured, this is what true love is, right?? 🤭

[lustfulslxt]

What Are We Doing Step Bro? - Chris Sturniolo

summary : after your steamy vacation, you and your step brother, chris, seemed to pretend nothing ever happened. that is, until you throw a party while your parents are away.

warnings : step sibling trope, spit kink, very slight breeding kink, choking, spanking, slight fingering, brief (f) oral, rough sex, etc

a/n : NOT INCEST SO GET OFF MY DICK AB THAT SHIT!!! they are not blood related in any way, so actually stfu thanks! this is also HIGHLY requested, so enjoy xx FYI i used tara’s pic bc that’s the inspo for readers outfit

—

It has been a few weeks since the little family vacation in which you and Chris had crossed certain boundaries in a profoundly sensual way. Neither of you have addressed it at all. When you woke up the next day, you were both dressed and on opposite ends of the bed. When he awoke, he didn’t say a thing about it. You assumed he was pretending it didn’t happen, so you did the same.

It’s been hard, actually. Knowing what he’s like in bed and how good he can pleasure you, has you thinking about it constantly. Though, you’ve never been bold enough to do something about it. Maybe you were just supposed to forget the whole thing.

So, you try your hardest. However, you can’t help the lingering glances on him any time he’s in your presence, the squeezing of your thighs when he brushes past you, the clenching of your core when he innocently touches you. Oh, how bad you want him to strip you of your clothes and make you tremble in euphoria.

Both of your parents are heading out the door, as they've planned a small getaway, kind of like a second honeymoon. Doing so, leaves you and Chris alone, once again.

The two of you had planned a party, and you're excited for it. Maybe you can finally get intoxicated and let loose, forgetting about the dooming fantasies you constantly have about your stepbrother.

Chris had arranged for the alcohol delivery, while you had sent out the memo. He had mentioned, earlier in the day, that the two of you should get the last-minute supplies you would need; solo cups, shot glasses, soda, and a variety of things to snack on.

You open your chapstick, twisting the wheel on the bottom to raise the stick of lubricant. As you apply the moisturizer to your plump lips, your bedroom door swings open. Upon looking up, you lock eyes with Chris who halts in place.

"Uh-" He starts, pausing as his eyes take in the sight of your lips rubbing the product in. "Are you ready to go?"

You hum, nodding your head as you slide your chapstick back in your purse. You stand up, slipping your feet into your slides, and pulling the strap of your purse over your shoulder. You look over at Chris, who hasn't taken his eyes off of you.

"What?" You quip, raising your eyebrow.

A slight smirk pulls to his lips as he looks you over, enjoying the way your shorts hug your plush thighs and the way your small baby tee shows off your perky tits.

"What kind of chapstick is that?" He asks.

Your eyebrows knit together, "Cherry."

He's suddenly standing directly in front of you, his eyes boring into your face. You can almost feel his breath on your skin.

"I bet it tastes good." He speaks, his voice slightly raspy and low in tone.

Before you can respond, he's flashing you a grin and turning around to make his way out. You stand there, watching his retreating figure, feeling butterflies swarm in your stomach at the simple interaction. If only you had the balls to act on your desires; he'd be under you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

You swallow the accumulating saliva in your mouth, and take a deep breath, following Chris out. He’s already making his way out the front door, so you follow in suit.

The ride to the store is silent, aside from his quiet music playing from his playlist. You can’t help the sneaky glances you throw his way, admiring the way he so effortlessly looks sexy. The way he manspreads in his seat, gripping the steering wheel with one hand. You find yourself clenching around nothing as your breathing gets a bit shallow.

To retain the last bit of dignity you have, you use everything in you to pull your eyes from him, forcing yourself to look out the window and watch the passing scenery.

Little do you know, Chris is struggling with the same thoughts as you. Every chance he gets, his eyes soak in the way you lick your lips, just imagining them wrapped around his cock. The way you shuffle in your seat makes him think about how you would move as you ride him. Your thick thighs rubbing together, he just wants to shove his face between them.

The two of you head into the store, Chris purposely behind you just to watch the way your ass jiggles as you walk. Every time you turn around to make sure he’s still following you, you’re met with a smirk from him. You bite back a smile and continue with the shopping, Chris following closely behind you.

After the two of you buy everything you need, you head back home to set it all up. Surprisingly, Chris is actually putting in effort and helping you with everything. You thought for sure you would have to do it all yourself.

“Can you hand me that remote?” He questions after putting the led lights up.

You grab the mini device and pass it to him, biting your inner cheek as his fingers grasp yours. You look up at him, only to find him already looking down at you.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely audible.

“You’re just really pretty.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing.

Your heart practically skips a beat at his words, your stomach fluttering with butterflies. You know it’s wrong to even feel such a way with him, but you can’t help it.

You turn away with a slight blush on your cheeks, willing yourself not to smile like an idiot. Still, Chris can’t take his eyes off of you.

Everything about you drives him absolutely insane, and he just wants to have you again. But, despite his deep infatuation with you, he continuously shakes the never ending thoughts from his head, knowing it’s probably something he won’t be able to indulge in again.

While Chris makes sure the lights and surround sound are working, you walk through the house, making sure everything else is set up and in good condition. Everything valuable is tucked away, and furniture is moved out of the way for partygoers to maneuver with ease.

“Where are you going?” He questions as you head down the hall.

“Everything looks good, so I have to get ready.”

Without another word, you’re shutting yourself in your room. You immediately go for your closet in search of an outfit to wear. After a few moments of pondering, you pull it out and lay it on your bed.

You strip from the clothes you’re currently wearing, replacing them with what you picked out. You sit down at your vanity, ready to start your makeup and hair.

As you continue getting ready, you can hear people coming in and the music playing loudly throughout the house. It’s okay to be fashionably late to your own party. You want to take your time, making sure you look your absolute best. Maybe your plan is to tempt Chris, just so you can have him once again while your parents are away.

After finishing up, you stand in front of your mirror to observe your appearance. Satisfied, you leave your room to join the fun.

The lights are out around the house, glowing and flashing colors in place of them. The floor vibrates with the loud music, the atmosphere filling with it and chatter from everyone inside. There’s people piled on the makeshift dance floor, a few people occupying the sofa, and people scattered throughout the kitchen with drinks and snacks in hand.

You hate that your eyes are instantly searching for Chris. Tonight is supposed to be the night that you forget about him, but you can’t help it. Your actions and words contradict themselves, putting you in the biggest dilemma with your mind and body.

Coming up short in finding your stepbrother, you head to the kitchen to get a drink. There, you come across a few of your friends.

“Y/N!” Asia cheers, bringing the rest of their attention to you.

“Hey, you guys made it.” You smile, the four of you reciprocating hugs.

“Of course we did.” Liz chimes in, “You look absolutely killer by the way.”

You grin widely, giving them a twirl, “Thank you!”

Ash pours you a drink, handing it to you with a smirk on his face, “Who you tryna look good for?”

You and the two girls laugh as you shake your head, “Pleeease.”

The four of you continue drinking and chatting, catching up on things you’ve missed. Unfortunately for you, your mind is still stuck on Chris. You have yet to see him and it’s a bit of a bummer, but you’re forcing your feelings down with alcohol.

You’ve lost count of how many drinks you’ve had, simply enjoying the feeling of being intoxicated. It’s been quite some time since you were able to have fun like this with your friends, so you do your best to forget about Chris.

“Wanna dance?” Ash asks you, grabbing your hand.

You nod with a smile, letting him guide you to the crowd of dancers. Your relationship with him has always been different. You’ve never hooked up, and there aren’t any feelings, but you both get close and flirty. Maybe this would be a good time to get Chris’ attention.

Ash pulls you close, placing a hand on your back. You hold your cup in one hand, wrapping the other around his neck. You move sensually to the beat before turning around and placing your back against him. And as if the universe is working overtime, the second you do that, you lock eyes with Chris.

He’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread and a cup in his hand. He looks absolutely delicious with his black jeans, white long sleeve shirt with a black short sleeve layered on top, and his camouflage beanie.

His face is expressionless as he watches you dance with another man. He yearns to take his spot, being the one to dance with you like that. It’s torturous for him, not being able to be close with you in the way that he so desperately craves.

no matter what i do,

all i think about is you.

even when i’m with my boo,

boy, you know i’m crazy over you.

You sing the lyrics, mindlessly directing them at Chris as you hold each other’s eyes. His gaze trails over your entire body, turned on by your revealing outfit, yet furious at the thought of other guys eye fucking you the way he is.

He shuffles in his seat, adjusting his jeans at the crotch, already feeling a hard on coming in. He hates how easily you get him going, especially knowing that he can’t do anything about it.

Watching as Ash’s hands roam your body, Chris brings his cup to his mouth and downs the harsh contents. It’s becoming unbearable for him to see you like this with someone else. He’s growing more and more frustrated, itching to put a stop to it.

So he does.

He gets up, walking over towards you. Your eyes widen the slightest bit, your head tilting up to look at him as he’s not directly in front of you.

“Beat it. I need to talk to her, kid.” Chris says, directing his sentence at Ash.

Ash lightly scoffs, “Can’t you do it when we’re done?”

“No. Get lost.”

Reluctantly, he does as Chris says, leaving the two of you alone in the crowd of people. Chris nods his head to the hall, silently telling you to lead the way. You make your way down the vacant hallway, Chris hot on your tail.

Just as you’re about to say something, he pulls you into his room and shuts the door.

“What are you wearing?” He asks, leaving you appalled.

“What?”

He throws his hand up, gesturing towards your dress. “What is this?”

You furrow your brows, completely flabbergasted, “Chris, what the fuck? It’s very obviously a dress.”

“Why are you acting dumb?” He questions, incredulously. “The fuck are you wearing it for?”

You roll your eyes and lean against his dresser, only for him to follow you. “It’s a party, I can wear whatever I want.”

“No you can’t.” He bluntly states, only to receive a blank stare from you. “Take it off.”

You choke on your saliva, your cheeks immediately flushing, “What?”

“You heard me.” He bites back, crossing his arms.

Despite your increasing heartbeat, you shake your head, “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not? S’not the first time.” He casually shrugs.

Your heart stings a bit at his words, and you’re suddenly reminded of what happened last time. How he pretended nothing ever did.

“Exactly.” You mutter, looking away from him.

He feigns a pout, grasping your chin and turning your head back towards him. “Aw, are you upset that we didn’t wake up cuddling? That I didn’t buy you flowers and ask you to be my girlfriend?”

You forcefully push his hand away, now extremely aggravated with his taunting. Obviously, you know that’s entirely off the table. There’s not a single chance the two of you could work together, it’s simply unattainable.

“You don’t have to be a dick.” You tell him.

He smirks, “Then just let me give it to you.”

Your face heats up instantly at the thought, and even though you want it so bad, you feel as if you need to turn it down.

With a shake of your head, you simply decline, “No.”

“Oh, come on. I know how bad you want it. You think I don’t hear you moaning my name in your sleep? When you shower?”

You flush with embarrassment, putting your head down in an attempt to hide your humiliation.

“Kid, I’m not tryna make fun of you.” He gently speaks, “M’just saying you don’t need to lie to yourself.”

“Chris—“

“Shh.” He cuts you off, running his hand up your thigh. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his fingertips graze over the fabric of your underwear. Part of you wants to stop him, but an even bigger part of you never wants him to stop.

Guess which part wins.

You suddenly grab a handful of his shirt and yank him into you, your lips smashing together in a heated kiss. As cliche as it is, it feels like time has stopped the moment your lips meet. This is what both of you have been longing for since the last time you were like this.

Chris’ hands instantly wrap around you, engulfing your ass in a tight squeeze, pulling a low moan from you that he swallows with his kiss. Your tongues sensually dance together, gliding all around each other’s mouths.

Your hands run up his chest and around his head, pulling his beanie off and throwing it for access to his hair. Your fingers run through it, tugging at the strands, eliciting a groan from him.

The kiss is feverish and sloppy, showing how bad you’ve both been craving one another. Chris’ hands slide up your skirt, gripping your ass even tighter than before, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You’re both frantic with your movements, desperate to feel each other.

You walk him backwards to the bed, your lips and hands never leaving him once. Suddenly, he pulls away, his mouth moving to your neck as he tilts your head.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” He groans against your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine.

You whine at his words and the way his mouth skillfully works on your sensitive skin. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, holding him flush against you as he sucks and nips at your throat.

You tug him back by his hair, your hands instantly dropping to the hem of his shirt. He helps you in removing it before doing the same to you, leaving you both topless. He groans at the sight of your bare chest, your perky tits sitting pretty just for him.

He takes them and squeezes them in his palms, your hard nipples rubbing against the center of his hands. You softly moan at the sensation, your hands gripping his biceps. Your skin burns beneath his touch, your center throbbing with need as your arousal soaks your panties.

“Been waiting forever for this.” He admits in a low voice.

You’re breathless from his touch, “What took you so long?”

“Wanted to see if you would cave first, but then I saw you dancing with that douchebag and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Your hands meet his belt, immediately undoing the buckle and pulling it from his jeans. He unbuttons his pants and kicks them off, leaving him in his boxers. Seeing his cock straining against the fabric, you’re eagerly dropping to your knees, only he stops you before you can get all the way down.

“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head, pulling you back up. “Get on the bed.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but you oblige and crawl onto the bed, sitting on the back of your legs. Chris palms himself through his boxers as he watches you, licking his lips. He joins you on the bed, only behind you rather than in front of you like you’d thought.

You go to ask him what he’s doing, only he pushes your head down into the bed, arching your back as he pulls your ass up. Your heart thumps in your chest, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

He audibly groans at the sight of your skirt barely covering your ass, your wet panties on show. He reaches forward, pressing his thumb into the wet patch, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Always so wet for me, hm?” He teases.

You whine into the sheets, pushing your ass back for more friction, only to receive a loud smack in return. Your body jolts from the feeling, a stinging sensation running along your skin, before being soothed by his hand rubbing it out. His hands move to the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down along with your underwear, tossing both aside.

“God, you’re so perfect.” He whispers, admiring the way your pussy glistens from behind.

He brings his hand up to you, dragging it through your folds. You can’t help but push back into him, eager for more. He tsks, spanking you once again, causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Never learn, do you?” He shakes his head, squeezing the plush skin. “Be patient, or you’re not getting shit.”

“M’sorry.” You whine, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

Suddenly, his mouth is on you, his tongue gliding between your wet folds. The sounds of your moans are muffled with your face buried in the bed. He continues to lap at your heat, shaking his head back and forth, his tongue repeatedly swiping over your clit. His mouth wraps around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it as he presses two fingers into your entrance.

“Oh my g-god.” You cry, your legs instantly twitching.

“Taste so fucking good.” He groans as he pulls away, his fingers pumping in and out of you at an extremely fast pace.

Your entire body feels ablaze as it’s wracked with pleasure. It takes merely seconds for your thighs to quiver and your toes to curl as your pussy squelches, your juices squirting out of you.

“Fuuuck.” You hear him mutter.

He pulls his hand away from you, taking his fingers in his mouth to clean them of your essence. Next, he’s grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it in your folds to coat it in your arousal. He puts the tip at your entrance and slowly pushes forward, watching your pussy squeeze around him.

Both of you moan as he bottoms out, and he only gives you a split second to adjust to him in this new position, before he’s thrusting in and out of you. Your mouth parts, lewd moans falling from it as he pumps in and out of you in such a rough manner.

“Chris.” You gasp, feeling him continuously hit your sweet spot.

His thrusts are quick and deep, your walls gripping him tightly as he shoves in and out. His hands are placed on your waist to keep you upright as he drills into you. The coil in your stomach is twisting and twisting, your face scrunched in pleasure as you take him. A continuous ‘ah, ah, ah’ sound leaves your mouth with every stroke.

Chris bites his bottom lip, furrowing his brows in concentration as he tries not to bust right then and there. Just the sight of your pussy sucking him in is almost sending him over the edge.

His hand wraps around your hair, tugging you up into him. Your back meets his chest, your skin sticking together as he continues to fuck you. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your jaw is slack. Your baby hairs are slick against your forehead, and your face is flushed.

His hand pulls your mouth open a bit more, his face hovering over yours. Your eyes open just in time to see him spitting in your mouth, and you can’t help but clench around his cock as you swallow.

“So fucking sexy, baby.” He groans, his hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing.

Tears well up in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure of him abusing your cervix. You fall back down, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Chris’ thrusts grow faster and harder, you walls going rigid around his cock.

The tightening in your stomach grows stronger before it snaps, and you’re cumming around his dick with a loud strung out moan. The pressure in your stomach soon dissipates as Chris helps your ride out your high. His thrusts fall sloppy as his orgasm sneaks up on him.

“M’bout to cum. Where do you want it?” He moans out.

“Inside.” You force out, clenching around him. “Please fill me up.”

His hips sputter at your words, and he groans as his cock twitches inside of you. “You’re so fucking nasty.”

He spews out a few curse words as he empties his load into you, painting your walls with his milky cum. He slowly pumps in and out of you a few more times, before pulling out altogether and falling beside you on the bed.

The two of you are left panting as you regather yourselves, knowing you have a house full of guests you need to tend to. You look over at him with a small grin, admiring the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy color, and the way his hair is sticking to his forehead.

Before sitting up, you lean over and hungrily kiss him as if you can’t get enough. You can’t. He moans into your mouth, before reluctantly pushing you away.

“Let’s get back out there before I fuck you again.” He forces out in a breath.

You sigh, nonetheless standing to redress yourself. You’ll have to clean up later. You both start putting your clothes back on. Then, he’s at the door waiting for you while you’re still looking for your panties.

“Chris! Where’s my underwear?” You ask.

“Hell if I know.” He shrugs, “Hurry up, we’ve been gone long enough.”

“Whose fault is that?” You retort as you look in the mirror, making sure you look presentable.

He smirks, smacking your ass as you walk out the door, “Yours for being so damn fine.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you swat his hand away. The moment you both enter the living room, you’re parting from each other in order to look casual as if he wasn’t just balls deep in you.

You search for your friends, finding them talking to each other against the counter.

“Y/N, where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere for you?”

Before you can even think to come up with something, Ash is pulling you aside, “Are you okay, have you been crying?”

Your face heats up at that, clearing your throat, “No, yeah, I’m fine.”

He stares suspiciously at you for a moment before nodding. He goes to lead you back to the group and, only then, do you notice how drunk he is from the way he’s stumbling.

“Ash, what the fuck?” You mumble.

“Yeah,” Asia begins, “He’s had a lot to drink. Speaking of, um, you’re out of vodka now.”

Your eyes widen at that information. Before you can say anything, Chris has his arm around Ash, helping him stand up.

“Here, come on. Let’s get you some fresh air.” He says, guiding him to the front door.

You furrow your eyebrows as you watch him, before ultimately turning back to your friends to see what they’ve been up to.

Chris stops Ash at the door, turning him back to see you guys. He pats him on the back, before pointing over at you, “See your little friend over there? Yeah, Y/N. Wanna know something funny? That entire time you were talking to her, my kids were dripping down her thighs.”

Ash’s head snaps over to Chris, his eyes wide, “What?!”

“Yep. Should’ve seen her, begging me to fill her up.” Chris grins, taunting the guy.

“You’re not serious.”

Chris smirks, digging in his pocket. He pulls out your black lacy panties, dangling them in front of Ash’s face. Only then do you look back over them, and your jaw drops as the two look from your panties over to you, Chris with a sinister look in his eyes, Ash with eyes wide as saucers.

“Oh my fucking god.”

—

a/n : matt series nextttt!!

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @chrissfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @knowingnothingnoel @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @strnlsblog @keira324 @domaniquessidehoe @mattslolita @junnniiieee07 @pepsienthusiasts @gamermattsgf @cupidsword @iloveneilperry @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @luul223 @matt444nixi @sturniololol @evieolo @dlyansworld @luv2matt @nmegamett20

[stareiiez]

nsfw alphabet for sinister mark

based on this ask <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

HA. idiot. there's no aftercare, you think you're getting aftercare?? from him?? the most you get is a snide comment and a towel thrown your way to clean yourself up.

B = Body part 

Sinister Mark loves your thighs, and breasts. He's not much of an ass man, but if he see a pair of juicy thighs that have good amounts of fat? his mouth waters, he drools over cellulite and stretchmarks, it brings more flavor to his delicate meal.

C = Cum 

loves to cover you in his cum, creampies are his favorite, cherry cream pies are even fucking better. he doesn't let you get dressed most of the time after so he can watch his cum dry against your skin and leave obvious proof he was with you. weirdly thick and stringy, the kind you see in porn, he cums gallons.

D = Dirty secret 

he whimpers when you praise him and call him 'my lord' or some regal title. has a huge praise kink.

E = Experience

experienced as hell. after all viltrumites fuck to breed and expand their species, so he knows what he's doing from alien autonomy to human bodies. he know's where the clit is babe, don't worry.

F = Favorite position 

doggy. easiest way to shut you the fuck up because you cry too loud when he hooks a thumb in your ass and bullies squishy tight muscle. he hates seeing your face look all stupid and dopey, he wants to watch your pussy cum, that's it.

G = Goofy 

he's here to fuck and to feast, there's no jokes here. mohawk mark took all the goofy ass tendencies out of all the variants.

H = Hair 

depends. wasteland sinister? there's no hygiene, he smells of sweat, blood, oil, rot and other putrid smells. pubic hair is as wiry and long as his hair on his head, he doesn't give a fuck if he makes you gag on it when you suck him off. normal sinister? he's clean, shaved. thinks it's dirty if he doesn't care for himself always.

I = Intimacy

lol.

J = Jack off

jacks off after committing genocide. likes to lay on the bodies and fuck himself because he feels so good he can't help his boner. he's a suck fuck that gets off on murder. jerks off to you, sometimes . . i guess.

K = Kink 

bondage, gagging, choking, crying, blood and weapon kink. LOVES to make sure his bitch is half way on the brink of passing out, that's when he knows he's doing good.

L = Location 

anywhere, he isn't picky. you think of it? he's probably thought of it, and done it to you.

M = Motivation 

power. loves to exhert his power over little things like you. also curiosity, lets see how much you can take till it kills you, kay?

N = No 

affection. telling him you love him? immediate no. he's soft and clambering off you. watersports are disgusting to him, you wanna be gross? do that somewhere else.

O = Oral 

LOVES GIVING because (ie bloody eating out post I made). loves receiving as well. he doesn't know when to stop.

P = Pace 

rough. hard. fast. there's other option.

Q = Quickie

doesn't believe in them. you should be satisfied enough after ten rounds with him. stop being greedy.

R = Risk 

fucking the man is risk enough.

S = Stamina

Viltrumite stamina is crazy. he doesn't give you a chance to breathe. you end up going comatose because your body can't keep up with his own. he still ends up fucking you even while you're passed out.

T = Toys 

He destroyed your toys, sorry. He's better than those machines, but he likes to see you masturbate and loves a good show.

U = Unfair

Incredibly unfair. he will stop in the middle of sex to go deal with whatever is suddenly more threatening or distracting to him. Will completely pick back up with you, if he's bored. The sex isn't the same after.

V = Volume

he's quiet, except for making grunts and growls through clenched teeth. your moans and wet pussy noises are the loudest things during sex.

W = Wild card 

LOVES A GOOD HAIR PULL. Even when his hair gets longer in the wastelands, and you're there to be with him. he loves it when you gather the hair in your palm and yank as hard as you can, it at least makes him groan a bit more louder than usual.

X = X-ray 

thick, uncut pretty pink eight inches. he's got the girth of nearly a soda can, he's a monster that hurts you in every single aspect. he's not veiny, but burns hot red at the tip when he's hard and throbbing. he's shaved and clean, slightly musky at drooping sac. his body is more built, unrealistically chiseled, like it hurts to be this buff in such a lean frame.

Y = Yearning 

very high, after he gets a good blood lust going. thankfully that's nearly every day since he has a plethora of lowlifes to be wiped clean off the earth and co-exisiting planets.

Z = Zzz

after whatever round he's lost track of, he sleeps rather peacefully on his bed. you're reserved to sleep on the floor or the couch if he thinks its fitting for you after how good you've been to him.

[takes1]

i just wanted to tell you how GOOD that asahi x reader that u posted recently is like OML. ty for doing gods work and posting for my MAN

extra: a rough!asahi drabble

i appreciate your kindness so much. 😭this is just a small final-final drabble to the rough!asahi series, nothing much but some ppl were asking <3

warnings. implied nsfw, heavy recreational drinking, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / fluff-esque / asahi is the aftercare king / mutual size kink / playfighting kink / power struggle fetish / nishinoya loves his friends / 900 words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. final part here.

Thanks to some calculated foresight, nobody noticed you and Asahi leaving at the same time. Everyone had been involved in their monetized 50/50 odds with Kageyama/Tsukishima's brawl that nothing else mattered.

That was, of course, only until Nishinoya couldn't find his bestie.

He was turning to call to you, make one more joke about how you scared the big coward off.

He quickly scanned the rest of the room- you had both vanished from thin air.

"Yachi?"

It was a little tap against her leg. He sat on the floor, back against the sofa that she was perched on. She leaned forward to hear him amidst all the commotion.

"Did you see where Asahi went?"

Her face grew bright, bright red. She straightened and didn't look at him, except for another tiny, nervous glance.

Yachi infamously could not keep secrets. And, although it wasn't exactly a secret that you two left, it was obvious that you didn't want to be followed, and she knew your feelings well.

Nishinoya's mouth hung open- he pushed himself to sit between her and Daichi, watching her way too close.

A suspicious mutter, right next to her cherry-red face, "You know something."

"Okay- okay, 'Noya-!" Daichi grabbed him hard enough to make him sit naturally again, "Stop that."

"Where is Asahi!" He shouted.

He shoved Daichi off and got up to a kneel again so that he could scan the entire living room. It was hardly a question, because this twilight-zone couch wasn't going to get him any answers.

Suga tried a smarter approach, after sharing a panicked look to Daichi.

"He probably had to take a shit, or somethin'."

Nishinoya stood on the couch, pointing a harsh finger at Suga. He was completely tipped off now, unable to trust a single person, because it was obvious he was not in on something. Now they were all trying to lie.

"You know he only shits in his own house!"

Daichi had to stifle his laughter- that was so true, and such a tiny detail they all knew, and never acknowledged. His attempts to grab Noya were compromised as he giggled. Being pretty wasted did not help.

"Noya, Sit- aah-hahaha-! Sit dowwn!"

"Okayyy, relax man!"

Nishinoya was freaking out, also drunk, knocked back down to his knees because of Daichi's clumsy pulling, "Wheeere! Is! Asahiii!"

Suga stood up to help, only throwing a glance to Yachi- who looked like she was about to implode. The pressure was high, made worse by everyone else's loud chanting, a count-down, for Kageyama to keep his hold on Tsukishima in the center of the circle.

"You're gonna-Ow! Hurt yourself!"

It took the combined strength of Suga and Daichi to keep their smaller friend in place. Tens of minutes passed by with Nishinoya restrained by his legs and waist- sprawled awkwardly over their laps. He would occasionally cry Asahi's name up to the ceiling in a monotone, defeated drawl, as if he was dead.

Nobody else cared, aside from thinking Nishinoya was a funny little guy when he had been drinking.

The rest of the matches were quieter. Daichi had to give up his ref position to Kageyama, since he was sober and the most willing, but that didn't stop him from making the world's worst calls.

Yachi was the first to hear it.

She was zoned out, staring forward at the blank wall, but got roused by a small, and somewhat familiar pitch.

"Oh- oh no--," She leaned over Nishinoya's leg, shaking Daichi's shoulder. She mouthed, 'I can hear them!'

Instead of springing up into action right away, like she expected them to, they sat still. It took a second to understand that they were trying to listen.

The very feint, but undeniable, sounds of some very good sex met their curious ears.

"The speaker-!" Suga caught his breath, sporting a very similar, harsh redness, as he shoved Nishinoya off, "Fuck, I- I'm getting th'speaker."

The solution was efficient, and a surefire way to keep everyone downstairs for longer. It was waking up those that were falling asleep.

It also helped to disguise Asahi once he began barreling down the steps. To the little group, all in on it, they were turned around already, waiting to see him as he stepped into the light.

He was glittering with sweat.

A brief, uneven, "H-ey, guys."

He cleared his throat, unable to meet any of their eyes, as he continued to the kitchen for some water.

Daichi collapsed onto the couch. He was taken completely with laughter, and Suga sat upright, mouth hanging open, growing warmer and warmer, clutching Yachi for support.

If that's what Asahi looked like, it was safe to assume that you must've been in shambles.

When he came back around with water, Nishinoya flung his torso over the back of the couch and barely snagged him by the shirt.

"Asahiii!" He gripped him tight, meeting his eyes with a messy smile, "Who won?"

Asahi made a frightened sound.

In his violent shudder, Nishinoya was shaken off and had to go without a proper response-- he scoffed, calling after him, "You're such a wuss!!"

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

taglist. thanks for supporting!

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my masterlist. more haikyuu. my imagines.

[luxcuriousao3]

Part 2 of Alpha!ghost?? 🥺🥺

Please?

-🍒Anon

I've been sitting on this because I've been asking myself, "Will I write a full part two?" But the answer is probably not 😅 BUT I have part of a second chapter written, and I figure I can share a little bit of it. Think of it as an alternative ending I guess? It's not... happy, per say, but it does make Fevered Mistakes SIGNIFICANTLY less angsty lol. I guess you could call it a hopeful/open ending. And hey, I suppose if people want to see the other bits I've written for chapter two, I'll publish them, I just wouldn't call it canon.

Also I've never had emoji anons before, but I will happily accept you as 🍒 anon! I love cherries.

warnings: a/b/o, mentions of past rape, vageuly suicidal thoughts

When Simon woke up, he was alone.

He was cuffed to a hospital bed, and both his team and the omega were gone. Simon’s heart lurched in his chest. His omega. He’d claimed her. He’d raped her. He’d killed her.

Simon was not a good man. He hadn't been a good man in a long time. He’d done horrible, horrible things. Some he regretted, many he didn’t. He bore them all and kept going. But this…

He didn’t think he could live with this.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Johnny entered, clutching a cup of coffee. He looked haggard—face unshaved, hair unwashed, clothes rumpled and stained. There were heavy bags beneath dull blue eyes, but when he saw that Simon was awake, he perked up, rushing over.

“Thank fuck yer awake,” he said, slumping into the chair next to Simon’s bed and grasping his hand tightly. “Cannae take anymore o’ this waitin’ ‘round.”

“They gonna discharge me?” Simon asked, looking away. Looking at his hands, the ones that had killed that poor girl. My omega. He closed his eyes, unable to stand the sight of them.

“By the end of the day, m’guessin,” Johnny answered, and Simon let out a deep breath. He knew he deserved it, but he was surprised the military was moving so quickly. Usually this kind of thing took months of wading through red tape and bureaucratic bullshit. “Price is gettin’ the paperwork taegether now.”

Simon felt like he’d been punched in the gut. His own Captain...

“He recommend me for a dishonorable?”

“Wha—” Johnny started, brows furrowed in confusion before realization donned on him and his eyes widened. “I meant from the feckin’ hospital, ye numpty!”

“But— the omega,” Simon replied hoarsley, stumbling over his words in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic for him. He blamed it on the sucking, pulsating void in his chest, the guilt and the self hatred and the desire to take a long fucking walk off a short fucking pier and let the ocean claim him and tear him apart. Just like he’d done to her.

“Aye,” Johnny said, face growing solemn, his scent—eucalyptus, chocolate, and a clean, cool aftershave, a combination that shouldn’t have gone well together but was the most delicious thing Simon had ever smelled—grew bitter with sadness. “The omega... she’s alive, Si. In rough shape, but the docs think she’s gonna make it.”

[cxffecoupx]

love languages: choi seungcheol

choi seungcheol x gn reader fluff, headcanon warnings: one single mention of making out, sex, ass word count: 497 author's notes: very self-indulgent, i should add. i planned on writing all thirteen members' together. then i decided to go age-wise. now, we're doing it by each member :') hope you enjoy!

gift giving:–

loves to show his affection you by giving you gifts. specifically, stuff that you want. it's not even mentioned directly — he just noticed you look at a pair of earrings for a little too long and with a little too want. mentally notes it. wont stop until he buys it and baam the next thing you know, he hands it to you on your birthday, your anniversary, or any other random day. stuff like these don't need any special reason, he says. doesnt even have to be anything expensive or extraordinary. even that keychain you saw at the supermarket while grocery shopping, that you then thought you didnt really need. he gets it for you the next day. would become super duper happy when he sees you using it.

"what's this," you ask as you tear open the wrapper and find a cherry blossom keychain inside. "I noticed you looking at it yesterday. so I went there and bought it.

quality time:–

loves to spend his time with you, most of it, if not all. always there to listen to your rants and talks, even if it's just about how rough work was, or something funny that happened, or just straight up blabbering. instantly gives you hundred percent of his attention when you start talking. also loves to get off work quick so that he can rush back home and be with you. however you decide to spend the time, he wants you to do it with him. it could be cooking, watching tv, doing laundry or skincare. it doesn't matter as long as you're doing it together.

"cheol, you won't believe what happened today!" seungcheol immediately turns his phone off and sits up straight as you approach, "what is it, love?" "our boss's wife showed up and started shouting at him!" "really?? why?"

physical touch:–

if he could attach you both together, he'd try that- always on you. you're connected, somehow, someway. you could be hugging, kissing, cuddling, making out, having sex, but he needs his skin to be touching your skin. it's such a deeper level of connection for him, that you're both familiar with each other's bodies, comfortable to share it with the other. it's very personal to him and he cherishes the feeling. however, in public, where he can't really engage in pda (he would, but you'd just glare at him), he finds other ways of holding you. hand on your waist, or the small of your back, or the curve of your ass; arm around your shoulder; caressing your cheeks or booping your nose. and if you reject his touches, be prepared to deal with a sulky kidult (pun intended). in general, he needs your touch to survive.

seungcheol's wrapped around you as soon as he comes home, huge arms on your waist and head on your shoulder. he doesnt say anything, only smiles when you turn around and kiss him. now he is home, he thinks and sighs contently.

[lunarlilacmoon]

Bite me

What if Agatha wasn’t just a witch? What if her immortality ran deeper and little… bloodier. Vampire Agatha x reader where a fight leads you to a bar to cool down and jealous Agatha shows up to cause a scene.

Paring: Dark!Agatha x reader

Warnings: Dubcon, mommy kink, blood kink, rough sex, fingers, eating out (Agatha receiving), dumbification, dark themes. Sorry if I forgot any!

Also was not proof read so sorry for any misspelling!

My heels echoed on the sidewalk and I made my way downtown. I had stopped at a softer jazz bar to start the night but now that the liquor was running through my veins I craved chaos. The best place for that in town was the Pink Tavern. It was an extremely gay and extremely lively place. The best place for me to blow off some of my steam.

I was just approaching the club when my phone started ringing, looking down I saw Agatha’s face lighting up my phone. I hit ignore and handed my ID to the female bouncer who ushered me in.

The fight was stupid anyways and it wouldn’t have even resulted in me coming downtown if she wasn’t such a stubborn witch sometimes. She wants me home all the time, to quit my job and just hid away with her, and I love her really but I can’t throw an entire life away to stay cooped in a home like a pet.

I made my way to the bar and thankfully was quickly served.

“Can I get four lemon drop shots, two Vegas bombs, and a cherry liquor with some redbull please.” I smiled pulling my card out as he went to make my drinks.

It didn’t take long for all of my drinks to be placed in front of me and I handed my card off to him. I had two lemon shots gone by the time he handed my card and receipt to sign back.

“A pretty girl shouldn’t be drinking this all by herself, what’s got you so stressed.” A soft voice purred from behind me.

I turned slightly to see a tall red head peering down at me and for a moment I buffered.

“Girlfriend problems.” I slightly laughed out turning to take another shot.

“Ah I see, and she left you to drink them alone?” She teased

“She wishes, she doesn’t even know I’m here right now.” I fully laughed this time picturing Agatha’s even more pissed of face when she realizes I snuck out.

“What a proper brat.”

“Someone has to keep her on her toes.” I finished my lemon drop shot and my Vegas bombs and began nursing my final drink. I felt woozy on my seat and I smiled at the intoxication.

“Maybe I-” before she could finish a familiar voice cut her off.

“Should get the fuck away from her, yeah I think you should.” I turned now fully to see Agatha fuming behind me.

“Mm, well I guess I was wrong she does know I’m here.” I giggled out chugging my drink because I knew what was about to happen.

I was just about finished with it when I was yanked off my stool out of the club. I had no time to process the outside before I was shoved into her car that was parked on the side waiting. She got in without a word and began to drive.

“I didn’t get to finish my drink.” I pouted.

“You fucking brat! Is that really where your concern lies right now?” She didn’t looked away from the road but I could feel her anger radiating off her.

“I mean yeah I paid for it and I wanted to finish it!” I crossed my arm like a child as we sped out of town.

She simply huffed out an annoyed laugh and pressed the gas faster.

Before I knew it we were home and she had me out of the car and inside in record time.

“Fuck you and your stupid vampire speed.” I pushed against her chest trying to free myself from her grasp.

“Fuck me? Okay fine!” She hissed and shoved me onto my knees. She ripped her slack and panties off and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Fuck me then you fucking brat! Use that mouth for something good!” She shoved my face against her and I started lapping.

“God yes, be good for something you useless pathetic human. You stupid pathetic girl! You’re such a whore you’d let anyone flirt with out huh?”

“I didn’t flirt-“ Her hand collided with my cheek before she shoved my face back into her.

“I didn’t ask you to fucking speak slut! Work!” She snapped rubbing herself on my face.

“Fuck yes! Right there don’t you fucking move!” She chased her orgasm on my face and rode out the last of the waves.

She yanked me up by my hair and slammed me against the kitchen table. My back pressed into the cool surface and she moved her face directly in front of me.

“You are mine. You belong to me. Body, mind and soul. I am not asking you I am telling you. If you try to ever run I will lock you away like the pet that you are. You will never escape me, your mortal body could never!” Her voice was rough but not angry. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes mommy.” I didn’t have a chance to say anything more before her fangs were sinking into my neck at the same time her fingers sank into my cunt. She bunched my dress up and began a relentless pace on my pussy. The mix of her fangs with her fingers never failed to absolutely wreck me every time.

Her teeth always added an extra layer of pleasure pulsing through my body and the warm blood trickling down my neck while she laps at it bloodying her face never fails to have me gushing.

“Fuck! Yes mommy, thank you!” I screamed out as I felt my high approaching. “Please may I come!?” I gasped out.

“No.” She laughed at my sobbing form as she completely pulled away.

“Mommy no please, come back please.” I begged.

“Bad whores get to stay needy.” She smirked her mouth painted red.

[achilles-rage]

Cherry: The Prequel

part one

summary: a few weeks after you meet for the first time, buck shows you how much he loves your tits.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: idk if this is technically a prequel since it’s set between the scenes in the first part, but it’s fine<3 this is also a day late, so sorry!! i have two more parts of this i wanna write, but i’ve been feeling insecure about my titties lately, so i wrote this to cope🙂‍↕️ and for the other prequel i'm writing, i don't think i'm gonna specify which one comes first, so you can choose. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, big titty!reader, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only!

Buck can’t keep his eyes off you as he drives you to his apartment. Your black top is extremely low-cut, and the little lace detailing along the neckline resting against your skin is driving him fucking insane. 

You talk to him absentmindedly the whole way back to his place, your eyes barely even glancing over at him as you talk about the drama between two of the other girls you’re living with. He tries to keep his eyes on the road, but it’s almost impossible; all he can think of is pulling the top of your shirt down with one rough tug so your tits spill out for him.

When he finally gets you to his building and up to his floor, his hand is on the small of your back, acting like the perfect gentleman until he’s finally got you behind closed doors.

His hands are on your wide hips as soon as the door is closed and locked, spinning you around to face him and pulling you toward his body. You melt into the kiss immediately, letting him take over your movements completely as he backs you up towards his kitchen counter. Your hands go to his chest as you tilt your head up into the kiss, your body pressed firmly against his as your back hits the counter.

He groans when he feels your plush tummy and chest pressed against his, and one of his hands moves up your side, fingers ghosting over one of your breasts, itching to grab and and feel it in his hands. His hand makes it to your jaw, holding your head in place as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth and savouring the taste of you.

“Do you remember what I said the first time we met?” he murmurs against your lips. Your response is cut off as he parts from your lips for a split second to trail his hands down to the back of your jean-clad thighs and lift you onto the counter behind you. 

You feel butterflies flutter in your tummy at the action, even though he’s shown you countless times just how strong he is. You look up at him, your eyes sparkling, and you momentarily forget that he’s just asked you a question.

“Oh, um- no. Well, which thing?” you ask in a slight daze, your brain cloudy at the look that’s on his face. It’s somewhere between love and lust, and you’re too giddy to try to work out the difference right now.

“That if I didn’t want you so bad, I’d fuck your pretty tits first.” he purrs, a smirk forming on his face as he tugs you toward the edge of the counter. 

You feel the tips of your ears heating up at the memory. And the thought. You nod slowly, swallowing as you try to hold eye contact with him.

“I remember.” you reply quietly, your arms hanging loosely on his shoulders. You’ve never done what he’s suggesting before, but it makes your heart race.

“Can I?” he asks, his voice coming out quieter, but there’s still an edge to it. He can sense your slight unease, and he’d never want to pressure you, but all he can think about right now is sliding his cock between the valley of your breasts and painting your chest with his cum.

You nod slowly, eyes darting around his face, and he smiles softly. He reaches up to caress your cheek, and you lean into his touch, licking your dry lips.

“I need you to say it, baby.” he whispers, and as soon as the word “yes” tumbles from your lips, his mouth is back on yours. This kiss is deeper, sloppier, needier, and you feel yourself getting lightheaded at the way Buck’s soft moans sound in your ears.

Just as his hands move under the hem of your shirt, you pull back reluctantly, chest already heaving.

“I’m not doing this on your kitchen counter.” Your voice is teasing, but you meant it. You can feel you stomach churning, although you love the idea of him fucking your tits, and you feel oddly exposed in his kitchen – even if he’s definitely taken you in this exact spot before.

He smiles fondly, and in one swift motion, pulls you off the counter and helps you to your feet. He then turns you towards the stairs to his room, giving your ass a hard smack as you make your way up the stairs.

When you’re both upstairs, you both take a second to kick off your shoes, and then Buck is pushing you back onto the bed. Your back hits the bed and makes you bounce slightly, and you let out a high pitched laugh when Buck pulls you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and then goes for the button of your jeans.

He makes quick work of yanking your jeans and panties down your legs, laughing along with you as your body jolts with his actions, and he can barely keep his eyes from darting up to the way your tits bounce with each movement.

When your jeans and panties are finally discarded, he pulls you to sit, then rips your top off. Your bra is next to go, and when your tits are free, Buck practically growls at the way they fall; sitting so pretty for him.

You move up so your head can rest on the pillow as he pulls off his own clothes, sitting up on your elbows as you watch him pull off his shirt, and then unbutton his pants. Your mouth waters when his cock springs free, but you barely have time to think about it before Buck crawls on top of you and starts pressing hot kisses to your neck.

You let out a breathy moan as you tilt your head back, feeling his fingers ghosting up your dips and curves as his hand finds its way to one of your breasts. He holds himself up with one hand as the other roughly squeezes your breast, making your moan and arch your back into him. He smirks against your skin, then moves his kisses down to your collarbone, then finally, your other breast.

You bite your lip as he begins to kiss and lick at your breast while his hand squeezes and kneads at your other one desperately, and you can feel his hard length grinding against you as he pays attention to your chest.

You mewl as he begins to suck on your breast, marking your skin with small hickeys around your nipple, and then he switches to swirl his tongue around your nipple, his moans sending vibrations through your body.

After your breast is covered in his marks, he switches to the other one, switching which hand is holding himself up and letting his other hand knead at your other breast and roll your nipple between his fingers. 

Once he pulls away, he looks down at his work with dark eyes, smirking. You can feel his spit on your tits as he looks down at you, and you shiver as the cold air hits you; no longer warm from his hands and his mouth.

“Please?” you ask in a sheepish voice as he continues to watch the way your chest rises and falls with each breath you take.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, his eyes finally darting up to meet your gaze.

“Fuck them. Please.” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup your breasts, bringing them together. He groans, leaning down to give you one final kiss before he sits up and reaches into his bedside table.

You watch as he pours the liquid onto your chest, and bite your lip as you look down at your chest, hearing the bottle being closed and put back onto the bedside table before he moves to straddle your torso and his hard cock slaps onto your chest.

You look up at him as he grips the base of his cock, using it to make sure your chest is coated before he slips it between your breasts with a soft groan. You hold your breasts together as you look up at him, and when your pretty eyes lock with his, he leans forward and puts a hand right beside your head to hold himself up, and then pushes his hips forward.

You whimper softly, partly because of the unfamiliar sensation, but mostly because of the way his face scrunches up in pleasure. He brings his hips back and then pushes them forward again, and when you moan softly, he starts to thrust at a steady pace, groans falling from his lips as he watches your tits bounce.

“God, baby, just as good as I thought it would be.” he purrs, caressing your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding himself up. He’s completely mesmerized at the way his cock seems to disappear between your breasts; so heavy that your tits completely envelop him. The head of his cock is visible with each thrust, and he loves the way your eyes dart between his face and his cock reappearing each time he pushes against you.

He’s already focused hard on not cumming too soon as he snaps his hips forward, and when he squishes your cheeks with his hand, making your tongue stick out slightly, he has to tilt his head back for a moment so he doesn’t fucking explode. 

When he finally removes his hand from your cheeks, you raise your head off the bed and stick your tongue out, humming softly as the tip of his cock touches your tongue with each thrust. He moans loudly when he feels your tongue on him, and paired with the innocent look in your eyes as you look at him, he knows he’s done for. 

“Look how pretty you look, baby. Such a good girl, aren’t you?” he growls, and you nod quickly, whimpering as you bounce your tits slightly in your hands. He can see the marks he made on your chest, and he licks his lips; your tits are his now, he’s made sure of it.

He feels his balls tighten as he increases his pace, and with a few more thrusts, he’s cumming all over your chest. You feel it dripping down the valley of your breasts, and the trail moving over your breasts and down your tummy from him pulling back as he came. 

You keep holding your tits together as he breathes heavily, his softening cock resting on your belly as he looks down at your breasts painted with his cum. You give him a sweet smile when he finally looks into your eyes, and when you’re sure his eyes are locked on yours, you crane your neck down, licking a firm strip up your own breast and clean some of his cum off of you with your tongue.

He groans loudly, still leaned over you on one hand, and he’s sure that if he didn’t just cum so hard, he’d cum again. You’re so goddamn perfect, and he can’t believe that you just let him do that. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” he tells you in a soft voice, his breathing finally going back to normal. You smile up at him, feeling your cheeks heat up as he focuses on your face. For some reason, you feel more exposed now that he’s looking into your eyes rather than at your breasts, so you remove your hands from holding your tits together and grab his face, bringing him down for a kiss.

He can taste himself on your tongue, and he hums into the kiss, letting out a content exhale as he moves his body off of yours so he’s at a better angle to kiss you. 

After a moment or two, he pulls back, giving you a wink before he gets off of the bed.

“Need to clean you up.” is all he says before he disappears into the bathroom. As you wait for him to come back, you can feel his release dripping down your torso and onto the sheets beneath you. You feel a little bad for the mess – as if it’s your fault – but that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done, so you get over it quickly.

 He comes back a second later with a warm washcloth, wiping off your breasts gently as his eyes follow the path of his hand.

Once he’s finished, he throws the cloth to the side and settles between your legs again and brings his lips down to yours. You kiss him back, but it’s a much gentler kiss than before. You wrap your legs around his hips, and he groans, feeling your dripping cunt against his already hardening cock.

“Did you like that, sweetheart?” he asks as he pulls back, a smirk on his face. You nod as you bite your lip, humming contentedly as you reach up and run your fingers through his hair.

“Did you?” you tease, raising a brow. He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he leans back down to give you a quick peck.

“What do you think, princess?” he asks, and you laugh softly, shrugging.

“I’m nowhere near done with you, either. You’re gonna be here all night.” he purrs, and you smile widely, cheeks feeling hot.

“Okay.” is all you can get out before his lips are on yours again, and he grinds against you eagerly; desperate for more of you.

And he kept his promise too. You didn’t get to sleep until extremely late; not that you minded. You always sleep the best in his arms, and it definitely beats what you’d be doing back at the bar; up late anyway trying to find other men to take you home. 

As you sleep, you find yourself dreaming about staying here with Buck for real. Never having to go back to that place. When you wake up, the feeling increases tenfold; Buck wakes you up with kisses all over your face, and even makes you breakfast before he drops you back off reluctantly.

He’s going to be with you one day, for real, he just knows it, but for now, he’ll just have to wait. 

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