#anyway gotta get back on the reading grind

[covvboytears]

The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro

[chiistarri]

actually you should always go for it because even if it doesnt turn out the way you wanted at least you tried and now know instead of living your life with what-ifs!!!!!!

[honeyhotteoks]

always only you (c.sc)

summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy

warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date. 

Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either. 

Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers. 

You just wish you never told Mingyu. 

I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.

Stupid. 

You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure. 

You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you. 

Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it. 

“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile. 

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth. 

The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought. 

Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you. 

You do fast math, panic math. 

After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home. 

Your stomach churns. 

You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”

He’s gone before you can say thank you. 

You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain. 

Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this. 

The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots. 

It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call. 

You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?

No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing. 

You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride. 

The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box. 

Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone. 

The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,” 

The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”

“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?” 

“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”

“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?” 

He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop. 

“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.

“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys. 

You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops. 

“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,” 

You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” 

“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,” 

You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming. 

The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first. 

You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress. 

Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care. 

He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless. 

Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.  

Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately. 

Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel. 

A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse. 

By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill. 

When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air. 

He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather. 

“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way. 

His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?” 

“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,” 

He blinks, “y/n,” 

“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,” 

Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality. 

He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you. 

You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,” 

“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position. 

The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.  

“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?” 

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red. 

He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I know,” 

“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.” 

Oh. 

Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,” 

He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words. 

“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,” 

“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact. 

“I know,” You sigh. 

“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?” 

“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,” 

Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish. 

“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,” 

“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.” 

“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,” 

“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait. 

The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory. 

He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,” 

“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone. 

“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,” 

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little. 

“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,” 

“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road. 

“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,” 

“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile. 

“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,” 

He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,” 

He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?” 

“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,” 

“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave. 

You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,” 

“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in. 

“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain. 

“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.” 

Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?” 

“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?” 

You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,” 

“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,” 

“I know,” You breathe. 

He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?” 

“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,” 

“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,” 

 “I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,” 

He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,” 

You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?” 

“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.” 

You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly. 

“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,” 

His hand tightens on yours. 

“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,” 

You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour. 

“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you. 

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,” 

His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,” 

“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.” 

“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,” 

You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green. 

He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,” 

“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty. 

“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,” 

“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?” 

“Shut up,” He sighs. 

“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?” 

He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?” 

“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,” 

His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,” 

“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,” 

He grimaces, “Ugh,” 

“Exactly,” 

“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,” 

He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal. 

Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?” 

“You want to come up?” 

“If you don’t mind,”

“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol. 

He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times. 

It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.

“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,” 

“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here. 

“So,” He clears his throat lightly. 

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,” 

You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride. 

But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding. 

Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s. 

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go. 

“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,” 

“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands. 

Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps. 

“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,” 

“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,” 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,” 

“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?” 

“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,” 

He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom. 

It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself. 

But then he laughs again. 

You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?” 

“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf. 

“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,” 

“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign. 

“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile. 

“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,” 

He nods, “I remember,” 

“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,” 

“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,” 

“Mm,” You laugh. 

“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee. 

“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise. 

“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’” 

“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,” 

“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,” 

“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,” 

“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little. 

“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,” 

“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,” 

Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?” 

“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,” 

He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you. 

“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,” 

Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back. 

“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,” 

“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue. 

“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,” 

“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,” 

He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,” 

“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee. 

“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question. 

“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”

His eyes flick over you and then he nods. 

The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”  

You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash. 

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,” 

“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply. 

“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning. 

It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it. 

“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him. 

He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least. 

You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” 

He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,” 

“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,” 

“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,” 

“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has. 

“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”

He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours. 

You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist. 

He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?” 

“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird. 

“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?” 

“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in. 

You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,” 

This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you. 

“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,” 

He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,” 

“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw. 

“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,” 

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already. 

“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants. 

A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss. 

“God,” He shivers. 

“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,” 

Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away. 

“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,” 

“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,” 

“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back. 

“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,” 

“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth. 

“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart. 

“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms. 

“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip. 

“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?” 

“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small. 

“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,” 

“Okay,” 

“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?” 

Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards. 

“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.” 

“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, “Seungcheol, look at me,” 

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze. 

“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,” 

He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?” 

“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,” 

He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,” 

“Yeah,” 

“And you wanted me?” 

You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,” 

“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,” 

“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,” 

He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity. 

“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,” 

“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out. 

He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,” 

“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat. 

“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,” 

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders. 

His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?” 

“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,” 

You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again. 

With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.

“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,” 

His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,” 

“Baby?” 

He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,” 

“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley. 

“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,” 

“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?” 

His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,” 

For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you. 

“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” 

Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?” 

He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?” 

“Please,” You whisper. 

He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric. 

“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess. 

“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,” 

You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else. 

“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,” 

You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,” 

“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,” 

This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises. 

“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,” 

“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again. 

A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction. 

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently. 

“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,” 

He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,” 

“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.

  “Can I eat you out?” 

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,” 

You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you. 

You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you. 

“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,” 

“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze. 

“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,” 

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile. 

His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” 

Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly. 

“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,” 

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly. 

“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,” 

Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?” 

“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam. 

“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip. 

“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this. 

His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?” 

“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.  

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little. 

“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,” 

“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?” 

“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high. 

“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?” 

“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” You kiss him back. 

“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast. 

“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,” 

“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,” 

His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?” 

“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,” 

“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?” 

“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,” 

He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,” 

Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,” 

“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,” 

You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth. 

“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,” 

“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,” 

“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue. 

You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you. 

“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,” 

“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,” 

He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts. 

Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap. 

“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,” 

He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,” 

He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder. 

“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”

He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit. 

“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,” 

It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,” 

Everything you are is trembling in his hands. 

“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,” 

You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin. 

“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,” 

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open. 

“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,” 

Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”

“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,” 

“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,” 

He sighs, “This pussy,” 

“Cheol,” You blush hard. 

“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,” 

“Anything?” 

He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.” 

“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?” 

He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,” 

“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,” 

“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench. 

When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen. 

You want him inside you so badly you could cry. 

“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his. 

“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder. 

“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs. 

“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,” 

He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,” 

“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,” 

“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?” 

He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder. 

“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?” 

It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.

“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand. 

You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,” 

“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls. 

You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper. 

“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,” 

“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,” 

“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,” 

Your muscles clench down around his fingers. 

He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?” 

You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,” 

“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?” 

“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again. 

“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,” 

All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you. 

When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz. 

“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again. 

“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you. 

“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams. 

The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go. 

Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease. 

When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down. 

“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms. 

“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?” 

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,” 

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?” 

You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,” 

“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?” 

He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone. 

He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?

“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,” 

“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him. 

You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,” 

“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock. 

“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,” 

He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him. 

“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,” 

He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him. 

He nods, just a little. 

“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,” 

His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers. 

You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this. 

“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,” 

He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?” 

You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,” 

Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs. 

You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel. 

“y/n,” He pants tightly. 

You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down. 

“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,” 

“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early. 

“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,” 

He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,” 

“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again. 

“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips. 

The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest. 

“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,” 

You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,” 

“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards. 

“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,” 

Your eyes slam shut. 

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,” 

“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming. 

Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”  

He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,” 

You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.

  “So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss. 

“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,” 

Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm. 

“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,” 

As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you. 

“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,” 

“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together. 

You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move. 

When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,” 

You laugh against him, “Next time?” 

He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,” 

You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,” 

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,” 

He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?” 

“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly. 

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,” 

You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,” 

“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,” 

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,” 

“Good,” He sighs. 

You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,” 

“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,” 

“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs. 

Maybe you could rally. 

Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,” 

“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,” 

“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing. 

Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed. 

You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. 

You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine. 

In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads. 

“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,” 

You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest. 

“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”

Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake. 

“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention. 

“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,” 

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,” 

Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”

He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,” 

“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,” 

“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,” 

“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups. 

“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,” 

“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,” 

He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?” 

“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest. 

His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,” 

Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog. 

“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel. 

“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,” 

“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”

“Go?” He asks. 

“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,” 

His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,” 

“You what,” You blink. 

“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,” 

You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go. 

“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,” 

You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side. 

“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”

“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue. 

“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,” 

Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you. 

You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,” 

“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap. 

“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,” 

He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?” 

“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,” 

“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand. 

“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,” 

“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,” 

You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.

When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch. 

[ilwonuu]

horny jaehyun + breeding kink

ughh having a jaehyun brainrot rn and there not enough jaehyun content

anon,,, of course i would love to do horny jaehyun with a breeding kink. (my fav things ever tbh) also me too,,, but why am i always having jaehyun brainrot… also i think i have a pretty good selection of jaehyun fics if you want to read them (nct m.list here) ANYWAYS thank u for ur request lmfaoo<3

🐰happy hour

↬ jeong jaehyun

ꕥ pairing- nonidol!jaehyun x fem!reader, dom!jaehyun x sub!reader, established relationship, they’re super horny for eachother help

ꕥ warnings- unprotected sex(yayyy!!!!!!! lmfao), smut with NO plot lol, dirty talk(jaehyun got me going crazy), creampie,,, pet names(baby), kissing, fingering(f receiving), jaehyun is just so <3

ꕥ a/n- happy easter mls!!! i don’t celebrate tbh i just had dinner but i do celebrate with new fics so here <3 i might post another tonight??? we’ll see anyways ily all

jaehyun was heavily distracted from the movie, as were you. but that’s only because he is grinding into your ass as he whispers dirty things he wants to do to you.

“forget the movie. wanna take these off for me?” he tugs on your shorts, you nod in response doing so. he pulls his sweatpants down, not bothering to have any underwear on.

“don’t wanna watch this stupid movie anymore, just wanna fuck you.” you laugh a little at his words, as this was a movie that jaehyun had suggested.

“you’ve been hard since the beginning of the movie.” he nods shamelessly. “you’re just so fucking pretty it’s makes me hard.” he smiles at you as he pulls you into a kiss. he slowly makes his way to hover over you.

“gonna fuck you good. gonna make you cum on my dick over and over. want to make you mine, gonna let me cum inside this pretty pussy? we gotta make sure everyone knows who you belong to right?” his overwhelming words going straight to your pussy.

you can’t process either of his questions, but you try to come up with a response. “y-yes! jaehyun need your cum, want it so bad.” you start to grind up again his erection.

“yeah you want it? want me to fuck you so well you have my babies? turn over.” he pulls you into a quick kiss before helping you turn over. you hear him let out a soft laugh as he notices the wet patch on your panties.

“you really want it huh pretty girl?” he mockingly asks you as help pulls your underwear down your legs. “mmm fuck me-“ his finger rubs at your clit roughly as he kisses your back.

he pulls your legs so you are sitting in a comfortable arched position. “i will baby. how could i not want to fuck you? you’re so pretty.” he pushes as finger into you as he watches you moan out for him. his finger speeding up causing your moans to get louder.

“i’ve changed my mind i want to see your face when i cum in you.” he laughs at himself as you playfully roll your eyes at him, rolling over of course. your boyfriend pulls his loose sweater off before letting your shirt off you.

“so so so pretty.” he kisses your neck as he grabs your hip. you feel the tip of his dick rub against your clit. “baby you’re mine.” he plants a kiss against your jaw trailing up to your head. “all yours jaehyun- ah!”

you feel his dick start to push into you as he pulls you into a kiss. the kiss quickly becoming more messy as he bottoms out. he pulls away from the kiss to whisper into your ear.

“really gonna give it all to you baby. gonna make you a mommy- fuck.” he starts to move his hips into you. “jae- p-please!” you are upset with his hips you want him to go faster. his dick feeling so good but you know he can give you more.

“you want it? such a good girl for me. taking my cum whenever i offer. you love it don’t you? me too baby.” his chest up against yours as his hips fuck into you at a inhumane pace.

jaehyun smirks when he sees that your moans are starting to match right up with his thrusts. “yea? that feel good? gonna cum so much, gotta make sure you take all of it. got to make sure i don’t gotta fuck you full of my cum again. or would you want that?” his voice is laced with want but he has a taunting tone.

“want y-you all the time. p-please cum in m-me.” he just smiles at your pleasured voice as stutters. “fuck i want that too, you’re so cute aren’t you? don’t you worry that pretty head, gonna make sure my cum is leaking out of this pretty pussy for days. yea?” you didn’t think your eyes could go further in your head, but his words surely showed you that they could.

“i w-want it.” you pucker your lips slightly reaching out for him to kiss your lips. his hips start to grind slower and deeper into you. he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth aggressive.

“j-jae i’m coming-“ he pecks your lips. “yea? me too baby, open your legs a little w-wider.” he grabs your thighs pulling your legs apart more. him now curling into you at the perfect angle. he smirks a little at the arousal dripping down your thighs.

he mindlessly takes two of his fingers to clean your thighs. he puts them in mouth humming slightly. “i’m gonna fill you up baby. you ready to be mine? gonna be all cute and pregnant for me baby.” he laughs a little at your helpless moan.

“coming- s-shit.” you cum all over his dick, some of it leaking onto his balls. jaehyun holds back a smirk at that as he feels his balls tighten. he empties all of his cum into you. it’s so fucking messy. he loves it more that anything.

“yeah i definitely made you mine with that sweetheart but you can take another load right? just to make sure.” you nod at his words as you feel his hips start to fuck into you again. “so- perfect and all mine.” he kisses you sweetly.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

could be

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

this ficlet is brought to you by @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my assigned color was "pretty clicker" (which tbh idk if we needed to include the color but I did anyway lol).

genre: pwp (I tried my best) prompt: "whoa, that's a new one."

words: 1.7k

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

warnings: pwp, oral (m&f receiving), handjob, fingering, joel and reader are astoundingly bad at emotions, a few playful spanks, tommy makes an off-screen cameo, old man joel my beloved, antics, absolutely no proofreading or beta reading whatsoever rip sorry

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Whoa, that’s a new one,” drawls the man as he steps out of the shadow of the copse. “ If it ain’t the prettiest little clicker I’ve ever seen.” 

You scowl, tugging the hat off, boot scuffing the dirt as you grind the frustration of being caught out into the soil. It gives with some difficulty, the late autumn’s early frost already turning the ground to stone. “Shut up, Joel,” you mutter. 

“That always work for ya? How haven’t you gotten shot yet?” He says, jerking his head down at the ball cap you’ve adorned with the decapitated clicker’s face.

(Or should you say disembodied? Dessicated? Desecrated? Whatever, you cut the fucking mushrooms off a dead fucker and stuck them on a hat. The terms don’t matter.) 

“Yep. Not too many fools out here who will go looking for a clicker when they hear one.”

“It’s a good impression, darlin’, but it’s not quite enough to trick me.” He’s drawn close, maybe too close, and curls two fingers under your chin, drawing your gaze to his grizzled face. 

You roll your eyes. “You a clicker whisperer or something?” 

His lips curl. “Not quite, no.” He lets his hand fall from your chin, and you watch it go. 

When you look back up at his face, you’re caught. Trapped. His grin is solemn, as if he, too, feels the snare.

“You got somewhere to stay tonight?” he says, instead of acknowledging the way you’ve drawn a breadth closer. 

“Sure do,” you drawl. 

He chuckles. “Alright, keep your secrets. But, uh—my back ain’t what it used to be, so the forest floor ain’t gonna work for me today.”

Your lips curl. “Presumptuous, are we?”

“You’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’tcha?”

“Guess you must be desperate, then, ‘f’you’re back for an old man like me.”

“Guess so,” you hum and give in. “How d’you always find me?”

“Hmm, don’t you worry ‘bout that, alright? All you gotta know is that I do always find you, and I’ve got some of Tommy’s peanut butter cookies in my bag for ya.”

“My hero,” you press one hand over your heart while the other makes the universal ‘gimmie’ gesture at his backpack. 

“Could be, y’know,” he mumbles. 

You both ignore the slip. He rifles around in the bag and pulls out a tin. You try to snatch it from him, but he pulls away with a wagging finger. 

“Nope, not yet,” he says with a teasing lilt, his drawl drawing out. He hands you one precious sweet and tucks the rest back into his bag. “If I give it to you now, you’ll just run off, and then what’ll I have?”

“A sense of satisfaction from being kind?”

You share a laugh at your joke as he leads you not to the safe “house” but up to the old, creepy lodge you avoid like the plague. Or. Well. Like the Infected. 

“Calm down, I already cleared it,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s got a real bed, though, sweetheart, so I can take my time with ya.”

“You mean so you don’t break a knee fuckin’ me over a log?”

“It didn’t break. Jesus. How old do you take me for?”

“Old as shit,” you mutter. 

He just grins. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’. You just get brattier the longer you’re away. Ain’t got any good cock back home?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, but it’s close to the truth. There’s cock back home, sure, but then you’d have to fuck one of those losers, and you just know Joel’s ruined you. 

Ruined you with intent and precision, and now he’s taking you by the hand and leading you up into the lodge’s dusty halls and into what must have once been a nice guest room. 

You whistle. “Did you clean this just for me?” You ask, batting your lashes. 

“If I say yes, you gonna be sweet for me?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. “So get your ass up here.”

You quickly shimmy out of your sweats and climb up to straddle him, but his grin splits wider in a lecherous stretch. 

“You think I brought you here for you to ride me? Y’can do that shit in the woods. Get up here.”

You hesitate. “I live in a fucking camp, Joel.” The “without running water” bit is obvious but unspoken.

“I do not give a shit,” he says bluntly. “Get up here.”

“Your funeral,” you say with a shrug, and let him help you settle over his face. You’re barely steady when he grabs your hips and pulls, bringing you to meet him. 

It’s been… longer than you can even remember, and oh shit. Either your memory hasn’t done this justice, or the last man to eat you out was fuckin’ terrible because this is nothing like you’ve ever known. 

But he doesn’t dive in and rush it. He doesn’t go straight to sucking on your clit; he doesn’t push three fingers into your cunt to work you open for his cock. 

Oh, no. You’ve been had, you think. This setup was an elaborate trap to wipe your mind clean and replace everything with thoughts of him. He’s brought you here to the second closest place of safety he knows so he can take his fuckin’ time with you. 

His hands are gentle on you, and he nuzzles into your mound to part your folds, his wide nose pushing between to seek out his prize. The tip of his tongue pushes out to help, tracing the tiny slit of your cunt. At the first taste of you, he groans, drawn out and filthy. 

“Shit,” he pants, hot breath scattering across the soft peaks and valleys. “It’s been too goddamn long.”  He seems to be talking to himself, which is good because you can’t wrangle more than a tangled gasping whimper in response. 

He brings his hands up underneath you to grip your inner thighs, pulling to spread you more so he can watch you start to glisten. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling back in to lap it up. “Mmm, baby, is all this for me?”

“Shoulda known you wouldn’t shut up,” you mutter, even though you’re addicted to his filthy mouth most of the time.

“Shut me up then,” he says in a way you simply cannot refuse. 

You grind down on his face, expecting protest, but he moans in a way you can only classify as slutty. He buries his face between your thighs with a growl and gets to work. 

You can barely hold yourself up after the first orgasm he coaxes from you, all powerful tongue and gentle lips. 

“Y’ain’t quittin’ on me, are ya?” He taunts. 

“I thought you were gonna shut up.” 

He smacks your ass. “Turn around.”

When you do, he pushes you down to lay on him. “Get nice and cozy with my cock, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You take the invitation but before you can pull him free from his jeans, he’s diving back into his personal all you can eat buffet and showing no sign of slowing. 

Eventually, you manage to pry his ridiculous monster cock from its denim confines and try, really try, to focus on it, but it’s so hard (you giggle as you tell him) when he keeps doing that thing with his teeth and your clit. After the third time, you find yourself just moaning and drooling around it; you give up and rest your head on his thigh, content to hold it in your hand and lick. 

He spanks you again. “Don’t be a tease.”

You try to protest, but he bests you by attempting to suck your soul out of your clit while hammering two thick fingers against your g-spot, and it’s all over for your brain. Poor thing never stood a chance against Joel anyway. 

You squirm away from the menace when he attempts to keep going and smack him in the face with a pillow when he whines. He wipes his beard on it and throws it back at you. 

You can’t hold back your questions now that you’re back up and running. “How d’you have the time for this?” 

“Hmm?” Joel grunts, a hand tugging lazily at his dick while he surreptitiously slides his hand down the length of your thigh and back up. 

You turn on your back, swatting his hand away. “You’re usually in a rush.”

He turns a little pink. “Don’t matter.”

“Uh, it clearly does. I’m asking.”

“Well, it’s nunya.”

You groan. “Think I liked it better when you were too busy eating me out to talk.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

You throw the cum-stained pillow back at him but miss by an embarrassing overshot. It arcs over him and into the floor between his side of the bed and the wall. 

You shrug. “Gone forever,” you say and throw an arm over your eyes dramatically. 

It’s a good thing, too, since the pillow hits you in the face. 

“I’m on watch here,” he says once you stop screeching indignantly. 

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” you let him know solemnly. 

“Ain’t alone. M’brother—Tommy,” he clarifies unnecessarily, “S’here too. He’s got it handled.”

“Oh my god, did you ask your brother to cover for you so you could get laid?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Aw, Miller. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” you drawl. 

He plays it off with another eye roll and scoffs, but the thing is—you know. He stopped asking you to think about moving to Jackson a long time ago. But slowly, he’s been taking you closer and closer to town when you meet up. 

And you’re pretty sure he’s using Tommy’s cookies as a reward. Each time he lures you closer, he brings more treats the next time. You’d be mad at the absolute gall, but… it’s not not working, so you only have yourself to blame.

When you catch his eye again, he makes a point to hold your gaze and draw it down to his leaking cock, and you know he knows. You won’t go with him, so he’ll have you here. Jackson is not your home. But that quiet drawl in your head that sounds unnervingly similar to the man sprawled before you whispers, it could be.

[c0llisiion]

NUMB TO THE FEELING : Concert Sex —J.jk

★pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

★genre : smut

★: npr, switch!jk , switch!reader , fellacio , handjob, whiny!jk, idol!jkandreader , dirty talk , cum eating, lots of ‘baby’ usage, its basically jungkook being all whiny idk 💀 – lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 1,207

Pt.1 , Pt.2 [can be read as a stand alone!]

A/N: HIIIIIIII! Im backkk! I decided to quickly write this lolol (not rlly proud). I didnt intend it to be so switchy jk path but somehow i js ended up there 😭 its kinda short and idk imo but anyways hope you liked this! I might make this a series hehe

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It was the day of jungkooks fanmeet. The crowd was huge. Fans were screaming out his name over and over again. The arena was so lively. You were deep in the audience, and no one seemed to notice you. You were sitting in the 3rd row with your managers and bodyguards surrounding the seats in front of and beside you. You watched as your boyfriend entertained a crowd of mostly young women. There was a spark of jealousy, but why would you be jealous when you get to fuck him whenever you want?. As the concert went on, vcr’s were played every now and then, but one of them caught your eye. It was a vcr where Jungkook hopped out of his and yours shower. In the same shower, he ate you out till you were shaking. The same shower where you suck his dick as he groans and whines at the way your mouth worked on his dick. The same shower he pushed you against, fucking into you until you blacked out. Thoughts of those steamy days and nights flooded your mind as you watched the vcr.

 

Jungkook had just finished the second-last setlist of the night. You watched him scurry off the stage, removing his clothes in the process. You relaxed and laid back a bit when one of jungkooks staff approached you. “Mr.jeon would like to see you in his dressing room immediately, Ms.y/n”  she said while taking deep breaths. You smirked and nodded before following her. You knew exactly why he called you. You were guided through the backstage area by his staff. People were running rampant, preparing for the next set list. She eventually brought you to Jungkook's dressing room before giggling and leaving. You stared at the door in front of you, contemplating whether to tease him and just leave or give him what he wanted. “Come in already, baby.” A deep voice was heard from inside the room. How the hell did he know? You chuckled before entering his dressing room. "I thought of actually leaving you all hard and-“ jungkook grabbed you by your neck and smashed his lips against yours, cutting your little banter off. His other hand went to your ass, groping the fatty flesh from under your teeny-tiny miumiu skirt. His tongue was inside your mouth as he pressed his hard-on against you. “Fuck– gotta make this quick, baby. God, you look so hot rn.” He mumbled into your mouth as his fingers toyed with your wet pussy. You moaned into his mouth, grinding onto his fingers for more stimulation.

You pushed him away when you felt his fingers pushing inside of your soft walls. He stumbled back a bit and stared at you, confused. “Baby? Whats wrong-“ he got cut off as you pushed him down onto the dressing room couch, immediately taking your place in between his legs. Jungkook smirked at your sudden action before relaxing on the couch, throwing his head back, waiting for your next move. You were kneeling down in front of him as you palmed his erect cock through his jeans. You unzipped his pants and pulled down both his jeans and boxers together. His big, thick cock flung out, hitting his belly, precum already leaking. 

You took the monster in your hands, smearing the pre down his shaft before sucking on his tip. Jungkook let out a loud groan, bringing his hand to your head to push you further down. You slapped his hand away. He stared at you with a confused look and a pout. “You’re being mean-..” he whined. Your hands went up and down his length, slowly pumping it. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” You say it tauntingly. Your hands increased in pace, and jungkook was in another world. His head was thrown back as whimpers after whimpers escaped his mouth. “Look at you. All whiney. You just love it when i tease you, dont you jungkook?” You say before pressing your thumb into his slit. Jungkooks hips bucked up at the sudden action. “Haa…! Nghh- y/n..” he moaned, his eyes looking down at you half-lidded and on the verge of tears as you kept teasing his sensitive tip. “Speak up, baby. What is it?” You ask with a fake sweet tone as you fondle his heavy balls. Pulling and tugging on them before licking up a huge stripe from his balls to his tip. Jungkook whined out loud, his back arching away from the couch. Hands gripping the armrest. “You are so sensitive..” you say, gliding your hands up and down his length faster. “So..so.. sensitive..” wrapping around his dick tighter and pumping him faster. “Haa… fuck so good, y/n… im gonna cum…—“ he says, eyes closed and in a state of bliss. “Yeah? You’re gonna cum? What if I don't let you?” You say before detaching from his cock and watching it twitch in the air. Jungkook whined and cried, missing your soft hands. “Please y/n.. let me cum.. I promise to fuck you good .. “ you loved seeing him be all desperate for your touch. The way he could switch from being a dom to a sub was so surreal. You chuckle at his words and nod. “As you wish…” you say before putting his entire length down your throat. Jungkook moaned out as your throat spasmed around his thick dick. Your head bobbed up and down his length. His hands are pinned down to his sides by your hands, restricting him from touching you. 

Jungkook was a moaning mess. His sweet little mouth let out groans every second as you worked up his length. You felt his dick twitch in your mouth, and before you knew it, a white, salty liquid coated the inside of your mouth and throat. You coughed and gagged around his cock as rope after rope of cum kept slipping down your throat. Spurts of his cum start to peek out the sides of your mouth. You pulled away and swallowed all of it before bringing your hands back to his softening cock, overstimulating the hell out of him. Jungkook shuddered under your touch as he tried pushing you off. “Y/n please.. thats enough..” he said. You smirked at him before continuing to work up and down on his length. He leaned forward and wrapped his hand around your neck, immediately stopping your movements. "Didn't I tell you to stop, doll?” He said he was squeezing the sides of your neck. You nodded and whimpered as his grip on your neck tightened. His hands traveled to your jaw, his fingers wiping away the reminder of his cum that was around your mouth. He stuffed his fingers back into your mouth, and you shamelessly licked off the rest of his cum. He smirked and softly slapped your cheeks. “I fucking love you.” Was all he said before he was cut off by a loud knock on his door.

“Jungkook you are up in 10! Get ready quick!” His manager screamed from the other side. He looked at your kneeling figure before kissing your cum stained lips. “We are not done yet btw” he said, pulling you up before putting his pants back on and exiting his room.

A/N: Ilysmmm! Thank you for reading!!!

[artdcnaldson]

ummm patrick’s little sister being fucked while she’s on the phone to patrick who’s wondering where she is and that their parents are worried bc she hasn’t been picking up their calls or replying to their texts. what they don’t know is that she hasn’t stopped being fucked by art since she lost her virginity to him - he won’t leave her alone, any spare second he’s in her dorm, fucking her on the bed, floor, her roommates bed. he won’t admit that he wants to basically live inside her. keep her forever. no one else can ever have her. no one can go near her, or else he wouldn’t ever touch her again. she’d be ruined.

Auuuuuurrrr <3

It’s so fucking messy.

Really, you should have run the other way when Art left you like that. You were so vulnerable, just overcome with so many different emotions and intense feelings all at once and you needed him to be a fucking decent human being and hold you. One night, that’s all you asked. You’d done so much begging, you’d done so much wanting, but for once you actually needed something.

Art knows your class schedule— he’s waiting by your door by the time you get back from class, smacking cinnamon gum, holding your camera. “I wanted to return this.”

You swallow, accept it into your hands. “Thanks.” He watches you swallow, nod towards the door. “Did you want to…”

“Yeah, I can stay for a bit.” He’s got you pinned face down on your unmade bed within five minutes, bullies his cock inside of your pussy until you’re mewling and whining beneath him. He makes sure to pull out when he cums— spilling onto your back.

It’s like that every day, sometimes more than once. He stops finding bullshit reasons to stop by after the third time he ends up burying himself inside of you. He’ll just text you, omw, and you’re ready when he’s at your door. You miss a few classes, or a lot of classes. You’re aching and sore between your thighs, sensitive to the touch, but you take it, you fucking love that he wants you so much.

Your phone buzzes against your bedside table while Art drills into your cunt, and you aimlessly grab for it, trying to silence it. Art grabs it, reads the screen, and grins. “Answer it. I’ll be good.”

He’s cocky now that he’s had you— that he’s claimed every fucking hole you have to offer. If Patrick finds out at this point he’s fucked, but at least he’d gotten all of you.

“Hi, Pat,” you say into the phone. Your legs are wrapped around his hips, heels digging into his ass to hold him where you need him. “Mmm… Mhmm, just busy.” You bite down on your lip as Art grinds into you just a bit, so the soft thatch of curls at his base rubs against your clit. “I—I thought I called Mom and told her—“ Your eyes flutter shut, you take a shuddery breath. “Yeah, just a, uh, group project. I thought she knew. Anyways, Pat I’ve gotta go I’m in a- a study group, I’ll call you in fifteen? Okay, love you, bye—“

You huff in annoyance, flip so Art’s pinned to your bed and you’re on top. He smiles up at you, runs a hand from your hips up to grab at your tits. “What did Pat want?” He asks, raising a brow.

You sigh, breath shuddery as you begin rocking yourself against him— all slow and deep, basically grinding on him. You hadn’t learned how to ride properly, but he’d teach you. He had time. “I was supposed to visit home,” you hum. “Mom’s— fuck— she’s worried I haven’t been checking in as much.” You grin down at him. “But as you can see I’m very, very busy.”

Art plants his feet, fucks up into your sweet little cunt. You call Patrick back far sooner than fifteen minutes.

At a frat party, Art drinks too much, sees you talking with a guy from your Anthropology course. He decks the guy, stumbles, ends up getting his ass beat. His face is bloody from a. Split lip and a cut eyebrow when you take him into the bathroom. His mouth tastes like blood when you kiss him. He bends you over the sink, fucks you like a man possessed.

“No one else guests to fucking touch you,” he says, his breath hot against your ear. “The second someone else does, it’s over.”

You moan, nodding all sweet and pretty. All that you heard was that you’re all his, that he wants you exclusively, no one else.

[popponn]

dating consultations. [nagi seishiro x f!reader]

notes: it's like 'wow feelings eh' read in elmo voice. then add my nagi phase and my recent obsession with childhood friend!nagi, it turns out like this. warnings: mentions (in a very unserious way) and (manga esque) depiction of break up at the end (not between you and nagi), mentions of bunch of break ups on your part, pinning, childhood friends + gaming buddies (?), obliviousness, post canon au, minor cursing. wo/ta/koi influenced this in some ways.

“Nagi Seishiro, listen to me,” you began.

“Don’t wanna,” Nagi replied, without lifting his head from his phone.

“So, I think my boyfriend broke up with me after finding out I spent money on gacha game,” you continued on, ignoring Nagi’s refusal. “I mean, sure, that's not a good financial decision. But hey, my husband gotta go home somehow and it's like an extra money that I already planned to spend anyway. Don't you get it?”

“No, I don't.”

“Exactly—but you see, I also think that he was honest, and what bothered him the most is because he found out that you and I play better in another game that he also played…” you trailed off at a sudden, more unpleasant that appeared in your mind. “…Seishiro, if I suddenly kick you out of the leaderboard’s number one spot, you will still be my friend right?”

“Nope,” Nagi replied without missing a beat. Like a rite of passage, you knew what came afterward would make you angry. “Your aim at FPS sucks way too much for that to happen.”

Immediately, you heaved out a short huff. You then threw your body over Nagi’s quickly, cuddling the soft blanket draped over him and enjoying the soft detergent scent left on it. Whining and protesting, you “Cheer me up, you brat! I raised you on my back since kindergarten and this is how you repay me?! We grew up in the same litter—spare some sympathy for me!”

(Seishiro found his whole body stiffening when you buried your face on his shoulder and pressed your chest towards his arm. Through the blanket, he could faintly feel your warmth and body. Five years ago, this would have been something he would brush off without batting an eye. Having crushes on oblivious childhood friends who only saw you as childhood buddies is hard—Seishiro noted dully.)

“Eh, why?” Nagi questioned back, blankly, focus still drilled on the PVP shooting game he was on. “This is your…how many breaks up it had been already?”

“…I know your social IQ is low, but can you stop rubbing salt over my wounds?”

“Anyway, don’t you think you break up way too often already to feel hurt?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…ah,” Nagi mindlessly cut the silence between the two of you. “That headshot was dirty.”

“…you are really bad at this whole cheering up thing,” you chided, sounding all too fond for it to have any effect at all. “And stop making me sound like some Whatpad bad boy.”

(From the corner of his sight, Seishiro saw a small smile etched itself on your lips. It was still too bittersweet for his liking, but at least after this—like always, as Seishiro had come to remember after all this time, without willing to—you would cheer up and stop talking about your nth ex. You wouldn’t sulk anymore and go on with whatever else except some guy who happened to be your ex.)

“Didn’t you say you want to be one, back in middle school?” Nagi questioned. “Also hurry up and log in, I need to grind for new artifacts.”

“That was middle school!” you screeched, feeling your whole head heating up due to some embarrassing flashbacks. “And you are still playing another game—I will log in later—”

“I’m done,” Nagi said, perfectly timed with the winning screen his phone displayed. “Log in. Hurry. Hurry.”

You glared dirtily at Nagi and his timing—or luck, whichever it was this time. “I hate you. Also, use Al-Haizen and Seno, I want the full ikemen academy team today.”

“Their synergy is shit.”

“And they are handsome. Your point?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I will curse you with all defense and flat sub stat if you dare.”

“…that’s awful,” Nagi said, finally. His defeat was imminent from the start.

You sent him a wolfish smile, “And I’m still your only gaming buddy. Shush and just log in, big koala.”

“The one who is stuck on my back is you,” Nagi commented, while still following your words and changing his team before requesting to go to your map.

You laughed as you pressed your phone. With a certain brand of closeness laced in your voice, you protested, “Why are you this nosy with me? Last time I checked you are pretty obedient to Mikage, Isagi, and your captain.”

(Seishiro tried to process your words for a moment. To him, the answer has always been obvious in the way that both you and him even bothered to stick close to each other even as the two of you approached the age of twenty together. In how the one you told everything to is still him despite everyone in your life. In how if you ask, he will walk through the city just to pick you up after a terrible date and walk side by side to your home.)

Nagi stayed silent for a moment. From his side profile—adorable, handsome, yet still as baby-faced and familiar as ever—you could see how he was thinking. Then, he offered you an answer in a half-baked, dry tone, “…because it’s you?”

Once again, you laughed. Trying to swallow whatever odd beat his answer managed to draw from your heart deep and away from your face. “Gosh—watch your wording, Sei—oh, you are in already. Let’s go artifact farming! If it’s shitty let it just be Seishiro’s and not mine!”

As you hurriedly pressed your screen, you tried to not realize Nagi’s stare from your side.

You were not ready yet to admit whatever you felt for him was real. This was only a side effect of consecutive terrible break ups.

That was it and nothing else.

(”I don’t think I am the one you are in love with,” your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—told you gently. This was yet another same reason, just told to you in a gentler, more understanding way.

You could only watch him silently. You were confused, yet a part of you somehow managed to understand what he meant. However, you still couldn’t put what it was into words despite all that.

“..well, I don’t think you do it by purpose,” the man in front of you said with a nervous laugh. “…nonetheless, I’m rooting for the two of you. Don’t make him wait for too long, okay?”

Hearing that, even if you still couldn’t grasp much yet, you forced yourself to respond through your tears. “…I’m sorry...?”

“Don’t be. It should be me, really.” Ever the nice guy, your ex-boyfriend still smiled. “This is more of me saving myself from hurting in the future… just, think of it as me being bitter for being worse than you and that childhood friend of yours in that shooting game, okay?”

You laughed bitterly at that. Your crying hadn’t ceased yet, yet you managed out another reply, “Seriously? You are a shitty nice guy.”

Still smiling, your ex—a good friend, a gentle person, a diligent worker—gave you a chuckle that sounded guilty. “…sorry. I really hope we can still remain friends after this.”

“Of course. No way I’m letting go of a star student as a group project member just because of a breakup,” you joked, even if you were unsure of the future. Then, remembering how he is, you added, “And get your ugly mug off my sight now. We are breaking up—stop smiling, you bastard.”

“…well, then… should I… accompany you home…?”

“You are my ex now—no way, nice guy,” you shut him off quickly. Then, after a pause, it felt like an answer as you continued.

“…I will just call Nagi. Go away.”)

[silverflqmes]

Hihi! I'm wondering if you're okay writing nsfw / smut (dont know the right term) for zack fair, could i request some thigh fucking headcannons'? (Applogies if my english isnt to great, thanks for reading if you see this 😊)

໒⦂ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓.

notes. hello anon! super duper sorry for the wait, i don’t write nsfw very often and if i get requests, i tend to take a lot of time writing them ahaha.. but i hope these hcs are to your liking, i feel like they’re a little rushed., furthermore the reader is female, i hope that’s okay!

genre. nsfw

tw. thigh fucking, semi-public sex, fondling, praise / body worship, dirty talk, needy portrayal of zack if you squint, after care, mirror sex.

disclaimer. uncomfortable with smut or younger than 17? please dni.

zack fair x fem!reader.

⌗ being a first class SOLDIER as zack was, there was hardly any time for full blown sex with how unpredictable his schedule could be. missions could either be in midgar, outside of midgar, slow or constant — the schedule was totally sporadic with the lack of firsts.

⌗ usually any need for release is often met during combat since he’s blowing off steam in battle, so in those cases — sexual activity isn’t needed.

⌗ but when fighting is not used as an output, he does tend to get pent up. it would make sense for a SOLDIER to have a load of energy to burn off, and zack being as antsy as he is to get some movement in.. he’s like a whiny thing in heat at times..

⌗ and so, that’s where you would come in.

⌗ there is little time on his hands but he just needs you so badly in instances like these. other times, he is of course your sweet and adoring boyfriend. showering you in hugs and the sweetest of kisses but real talk, a guy can get horny. especially if he’s getting zero action, mission and / or sex wise.

⌗ although, you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t want your boyfriend plunging himself in between your thighs behind closed curtains, brushing all along your clit in just the right way while he grips your hips, grinding his own into your backside.

⌗ sometimes he just can’t hold himself back from dragging you away from your work into his office or an empty space just to get some friction and skin on skin contact from you. your thighs just feel so so soft and rub against him perfectly each time. and whenever you squeeze, the tightness is all the more pleasing.

⌗ oftentimes, he’s gotta be on the clock, though.. so his pace can be a little rougher and quicker with you, but he’s always careful to hold you close, aware that his enhanced strength can sometimes be.. a bit much.

⌗ still, you’d brace your hands against the wall or desk, anyway, and watch as he appeared and reappeared between your thighs in an intoxicating rhythm that makes you forget your work even existed.

⌗ because you both have to be quiet and he gets so needy for more of you, he would turn your head to the side to capture your lips in a feverish kiss while he continues slotting himself between your legs.

⌗ at times his hands would slide from your waist underneath your shirt to feel up your chest. he’d squeeze, fondle and knead them together, pinching your hardened nipples all while he continued delivering himself between your thighs.

⌗ and when he misses you too much, he’ll want to do it while facing one another — which can be sloppier, but he wants to look at your pretty face while he’s fucking your thighs, and feel your body flush against his own.

⌗ it’s not always fast and rough though, rest assured. whenever there is more time at your disposal, and within the comfort of your home, it can also be slow and sensual. a way for you to feel every detail of him that he had to offer as he holds you close to him. certainly when he’s returned from an away mission, knowing you’d both missed each other dearly.

⌗ unfortunately, things can get messy, but even if he’s on the clock, zack always makes the time to clean you up and help get the both of you back in order. he can’t just go sending you off, he’s a gentleman!

⌗ our resident puppy can be vocal a lot, especially if he hasn’t gotten the chance to be intimate like this with you for a bit.. so expect a load of praise and worshipping out of him, cuz he’s got lots to say.. but also some whining of his own- so praise him too.

⌗ “f-fuck, you feel so good against me, baby.. wish i could just have you like this all day, can hardly even wait until later..”

⌗ “mm, squeeze me just like that, yeah. you’re doing so well, y/n.. can’t contain myself any longer, i gotta have you tonight again too to hold me over at t-this rate..”

⌗ ooh and he loves doing it in front of a mirror. to witness every expression you make, and see your reactions just makes the experience all the more delectable.

notes. sorry if this was shorter than anticipated, i hope it’s somewhat decent?? i tried to come up with different things to pair with the thigh fucking since it’s.. a little dull on its own😭 anyway, hope you enjoyed! tysm for the request and for your patience<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[tarithenurse]

Shots

Fandom: MCU AU. Pairing/starring: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader. Word count: 3219. Oops. Content: Alcohol and drinking/drunkenness, unrealistic hangovers, unprotected smut (be smarter than them, pls). Unbetaed as usual. A/N: So on an unrelated note...I was able to do groceries yesterday without having a panic attack! Yay! Go me!

Shots

The taste is mainly sweet but there’s a twang of sourness that makes the edge of your tongue curl...or maybe that’s the alcohol but there’s no burn anymore as you swallow, lifting the empty shots glass into the air as proof of your deed. Around you, your girlfriends cheer – all holding up their own empty glasses too.

Out on the dance floor, people are swaying and grinding to the beat that has held the same sway over you most evening and you’re eager to rejoin the masses. It’s a party after all and you’re young and gorgeous wanting to make the most of it.

“I think he’s looking at you!” Melissa squeals in your ear, drawing your attention to a man at the other end of the bar.

For a second your eyes meet but you look away quickly – though not too quickly to notice that he’s hot. Dark and broody, stubbles peppering his square jaw. He’s button-up is tight across his shoulders and arms, making it possible to see his muscles.

“Hey Buck!” you hear the bartender yell at him, tossing a beer his way, “fancy seeing you here on a night off.”

Buck. It’s gotta be short of something but you addled mind can’t figure out what. It doesn’t matter anyways as Brittney has decided that you’ve been standing still long enough and she’s now ushering all of your group back on the floor.

--- The world goes black ---

The lights are blurring as you tip your head back, gunning the tequila. The world spins gently, making you almost trip up as you bounce to the beat of the music.

“One more!” Melissa grabs your hand, smearing the lemon onto it before drizzling generously with salt. Another shot – you’re not sure if you dislike the alcohol or the lemon the most but it doesn’t matter because you have half a daiquiri left which you eagerly slurp through the straw.

--- The world goes black ---

Melissa had been tugging at your sleeve a bit ago but now you can’t find her. Maybe she’s outside.

--- The world goes black ---

There’s a deep rumble of an engine. Your view of the city is slanted and restricted to the narrow space of the car’s window. For a moment you wonder if the girls have gotten a cap, but you can’t hear their usual chatter.

--- The world goes black ---

You lie for a moment and just feel the mattress beneath you before you open your eyes because something doesn’t add up: how did you get home and into bed? Wringing your brain, there are waaaaay to many gaps in your memory to be comfortable.

It doesn’t help to open your eyes. Instead of the soft greys and blues of your makeshift canopy above the bed, you see bare ceiling and fear creeps into you like a sneaking cold. Turning your head, your suspicion in confirmed when the bedside table is different too. Sitting up with a jolt, you regret your actions as your head thrums but you are quick to ignore that as another revelation pins you in place: everything but your undies and bra is gone!

Scrambling to gather the covers over your chest, you look around for answers and notice a piece of paper on the bedside table. Taking it with shaking hands, you begin to read the jagged handwriting, fearing the worst:

“Where are you? You’re in my apartment – I couldn’t get your address out of you and I don’t know where your purse is.

Who’s apartment? My name’s Bucky. I’m a bouncer at the club you were at with your friends.

Where are your friends? I honestly don’t know...try to call them.

Where’s your phone? It was on the bedside table, try to look in the bed if it’s not there anymore.

Where’s your clothes? In the dryer in the bathroom (door to the right – there are fresh towel laid out for you).

PS. The pills are just aspirins, take them with the water.

PPS. If you just want to leave without a word, that’s cool – otherwise I’m back at noon.”

That’s when you notice the bottled water and the tablets still in their blister foil and you suddenly realize that your head still is throbbing. And you’re thirsty. Moments later the aspirins are gone with half the water and you set to the task of finding your phone.

The screen on your phone is cracked in the corner, a tell that you must have dropped it at some point in the night, but it still works well enough to show that you’ve got a couple of missed calls and texts in the group chat from Brittney and Melissa and you quickly type in a response:

“I’m fine. Just woke up. Not at home but at the bouncer?”

You also send a picture of the scribbled note.

Lowering your phone, you take in the surroundings for the first time. The place is tidy with one wall covered in a wardrobe with sliding doors and a window on the opposite wall with grey curtains. The bed you’re kneeling in is a queen size and made with matching grey linens, the sheet folded down tight even after use. The bedside table on the other side holds an old timey alarm-clock that reads 11:47 and a book – Lord of the Rings, of all things.

Getting out of the bed, phone clutched to your chest, you tiptoe to the door on the right. Opening it, you’re granted a view of a worn but clean bathroom and a wash/dryer tower where the dryer waits lazily to be emptied. There’s also a sink with a towel folded and resting on...and a mirror that shows off just what a mess you are.

Making a quick decision, you shed the rest of your clothes and step into the shower.

Oh, it feels heavenly as the hot water sprays onto you. Scrubbing as best you can (even borrowing a bit of shower gel and shampoo even though the scent is like pinewood rather than the usual flowers), you begin to feel like a real person again as if the anxiety is washed away with the sweat and the makeup.

It’s when you’ve stepped out of the shower and are half done drying that you hear it: footsteps.

Leaning against the bathroom door with baited breath, you can hear the steps in the bedroom. You hear them near the door. Hear them stop.

“Hey?” They voice is gentle albeit raspy.

“H-hi....uhm...”

There’s a soft hum. “Take your time. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You try to put a face to the voice. Bucky. Buck. A foggy memory of a man at the end of the bar surfaces. Handsome. No, scratch that. Hot.

You hear the footsteps pick up again and something spurs you on to say through the door: “Thank you! I...” You what? Got shitfaced and needed to be saved? “Thank you...”

“No problem.”

The footsteps trail away and you hurry drying yourself off. Considering this morning after, you’re happy you’d opted for jeans last night but the top is still worryingly skimpy for a Sunday morning in a stranger’s home. But there’s nothing to do about it.

Exiting the bathroom, you cross to the only other door and find yourself entering a compact but cozy living room slash kitchen. A tall set of windows let the city air in on a breeze, a few IKEA pictures hang on the walls, matching the rest of the interior and clashing wonderfully with the man standing by the stove with the back to you.

“I’m making omelette...in case you want some,” he offers, still not looking to you.

He’s wearing grey sweats and a tight white t-shirt that allows you to admire his back and the full sleeve tattoo on his left arm.

“Thank you but -” you start, only to be interrupted by a loud growl of your stomach that must have picked up the scent of the deliciousness he’s cooking.

You can see his shoulders shake a little at a suppressed laugh. “That’s what I figured. Plates are in the left, tall cupboard. Cutlery top drawer.”

Silently, you find the things and set the table. Then you start making coffee, causing Bucky to hum softly at the scent. It’s...cozy. Domestic. And every chance you get, you look at him. He has a gorgeous profile, you decide, especially when he smiles.

Eventually, you’re sitting at the table across from each other.

Scooping up some of the omelette (with cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, bell pepper, and cheese), you decide to eat rather than ask what you want but even with your eyes fixed on the food, you’re annoyingly aware that it’s Bucky’s turn to study you.

“You got a hold of your friends?” he asks.

You nod – and it’s partially true. The texts from them was from late last night where they’d made it home, asking if you’d gotten lucky. After that? Nothing. It makes you wonder if you’d tried anything with anyone – with Bucky.

“They okay?” he asks again.

“Hopefully they got a hangover for ditching me,” it pops out of you.

He smiles crookedly and something stirs in your belly. “I’m amazed that you’re doing this well considering how bad off you were.”

You shrug. “Maybe one day it’ll hit me.” You watch him scoop up a mouthful. “Do you normally take in drunks?”

“Gotta admit it’s a first for me,” he admits.

“Why did you?”

Something dark moves over his face. “Let’s just say...the alternative would have haunted me.”

Something tells you that you don’t want to know. Sipping the coffee, you allow the warmth to push aside the anxiety. “I remember you...at the end of the bar.”

“Oh so you remember something!” he smiles crookedly again. “I was so close to come over to you then.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “I’d have felt I’d be taking advantage of you.”

“...still got stuck with me.”

His grey eyes flash as he takes you in. “Well...maybe we can have a do-over?”

You set down the mug, trying to gauge his mood. “Isn’t this it?”

An eyebrow raises. “Don’t mind if it...but don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

“I don’t.”

“You can walk away if you want.”

“I said,” you intone sharply before softening up again, “I don’t.”

Surging forward, his lips crash onto yours, tongue soon sweeping along the seem of your mouth, making you sigh and open for him.

You slowly drive him backwards, following eagerly with a hand gripping in his hair and nails raking the scalp gently. His hands are on you, warm and slow as the trace from your hips to your waist and on until you grab his wrists and remove his touch from you. He could easily fight against the weak force you exert but he doesn’t, instead letting you have this power over him.

Pulling away, you see how they grey of his eyes is reduced to a thin circle. His chest is rising rapidly but in a steady rhythm and you want to see more.

“Take it off.” You tug at his t-shirt.

Obeying without a fuss, you’re happy to see that the tight shirt had promised only what it could deliver: a strong physique with lean and defined muscles and you’re ready to wager that it’s all natural, either from plenty of gym-time or maybe even some unfair meddling by mother nature herself. Either way, you’re happy to let your fingertips dance over his pecs and abs, causing goosebumps to follow in their wake.

“Pants too,” you decide.

“Seems a bit one-sided, princess,” he points out though his hands already are on the low-riding waistbands of the sweats.

“Considering how I was dressed when I woke up, I think you had a head start.”

He smiles crookedly. “Fair point.”

Standing just enough to slide the pants down the ass, Bucky makes good on your request. Thick thighs...and a thick bulge that strains his boxers and makes your cunt heat.

You’re on your knees before you know it, maybe hitting the floor a tad too hard but who cares as long as you get to slide your hands up his thighs and body. Reversing, your nails dance lightly across his tan skin before your fingers hook on the waistband of the boxers.

But this is as far as Bucky lets you get. Snatching your wrists, he breathes in deeply.

“You sure, princess?”

You meet his gaze calmly. “Yes.”

Slowly letting go, he watches you palm his erection through the elastic fabric. Watches as you pull at the scrap of clothing with one hand while reaching in and pulling him out with the other.

He’s big. The foreskin is still pulled over the tip so all you can see is a dot of angry red beneath a sheen of pre-cum.

“Here, let me,” he mumbles, lifting off the chair and pulling the boxers to his knees, allowing you to get the off the rest of the way.

Sitting naked on the chair, legs wide and balls resting on the seat, he’s a sight to behold. His cock leans upwards bobbing as he breathes in deeply.

Wrapping a hand around it, you testingly slide your fist up and down, eventually freeing his cock-head which you kitten-lick, causing the man to shudder. Salty. Another lick, this time longer and more pronounced, makes him groan – and devilish as you are, you grant him no warning before taking him in your mouth and suckling.

In your periphery, you see his arms flail and hands bunch into fists but he doesn’t touch you because you have once made it clear that he couldn’t. In lack of anything else to grasp, he holds on to the seat of the chair, knuckles whitening as you find a rhythm with your hand and mouth, cheeks hollowed as you suckle and lick what you can reach.

He’s heavy on your tongue. There’s a vein throbbing along the underside of the shaft. Whenever you tease the frenulum, his breath hitches.

Your free hand has been resting on his thigh but now you reach for his balls to roll them in your fingers and tug gently as they keep travelling up.

“Too good,” he warns, “gotta stop, princess.”

Pulling of with a plop, you bat your lashes at him innocently. “Stop? Or switch?”

His face lights up. “Thought you’d never let me.”

Scooping you up, he marches into the bedroom and tosses you unceremoniously on the bed before following. Crawling over you, he kisses your stomach until he reaches the hem of your top and he drags it over your head so he can bury his face in your cleavage. Kissing and biting, he manages to multitask enough to loosen the bra and (although that means pulling back for a moment) pull it off you.

“Fucking amazing,” he purrs at the sight of your tits.

Cupping one breast, his lips find the nipple of the other, bestowing a single feather light kiss to it that makes your skin pucker.

Then he descends, lavishing kisses and little bites wherever he reaches until his hands slide down your sides and around to the closing of your jeans. He’s fast, ravenous – one moment you’re half dressed and the next you’re lying completely naked and exposed before him.

And it feels good.

You reach for him, wanting him close and he accepts, keeping his body suspended on an elbow so as not to crush you while the other hand is occupied, gentle fingers stroking your folds and spreading the juices that have already gathered.

“I want you,” you whisper.

“Right here, princess,” Bucky replies with a crooked smile that evaporates as he slides his cock along your slit.

It’s a stretch but one that makes your toes curl in delight as he fills you up slowly until his hips are slotted against yours and there’s no more room to occupy for him.

Eyes screwed shut, he breathes heavily for a few seconds before finally meeting your heavy-lidded gaze and setting a slow and steady pace. Rocking into you, he somehow drags along the right spots and you feel yourself clamp down on him, causing him to gasp.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess,” he growls.

His head dips to the crook of your neck where he bites softly as he ups the pace.

Your own hands are gripping him tight, nails digging into his muscles. You’re desperate to keep him close, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him even deeper and keep him with you. In record time the heavy heat in your abdomen grows and consumes you, threatening to burst at any moment and you cry out for him to go just a bit faster and a little bit harder.

Instead he pulls out.

Empty, your cunt flutters around nothing as you blink to get him into clear view.

“Wha-?”

He shakes his head. “Too damn good.”

But Bucky proves himself yet again to be a gentleman: going down on you, he holds your thighs wide with his elbows while he busies both mouth and a hand to make sure that you don’t miss out on much and with a few tight circles of his thumb and the broad licks of a strong tongue, he’s got your trembling once more. Your hands are in his hair. Your legs are shaking, back arching. A guttural moan rips from you as you teeter on the very edge, so close to ultimate bliss but somehow unable to take the tumble.

“I need you, Buck,” you whine.

He hums against you, making you try to curl up as you’re so so so close. But you need his cock.

“Please!” you beg.

“Fuck.”

Pulling away, he doesn’t wipe his mouth as he gets up on his knees pulling by your hips so your cunt rises to meet his cock. The new angle, the fullness, it’s too much. Even with the head down, you know you’ll be done for in a few strokes and Bucky proves you right as he rams into you, hard and deep – moments later you come with a cry as your body seizes with ecstasy and you see white.

Each thrust a new moan is pushed from you lungs, prolonging bliss but not for long as Bucky’s hips falter in their rhythm and he too groans deeply.

For a moment he holds you still, allowing you to feel each throb of his cock inside you but eventually he collapses onto the bed with you, barely preventing himself from flattening you by letting go of your hip with a hand. You’re both breathing heavily, bodies covered in a light dew of sweat.

“Damn, princess,” he gasps.

“Says you...”

You can feel him softening slightly inside you, his cum seeping past his cock and probably making a mess out of the sheets.

“Just...give me a few and I’ll treat you better,” he mumbles as he pulls out and rolls off you.

Lying next to you, chest rising and falling, you can help but roll into his arm and put your head there so you can hear your heart.

“That a promise?” you ask sweetly.

“Oh yeah...I’m not done with you anytime soon.”

[604to647]

Macarons

3.9K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Tim thinks you’re mad at him.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, soft!Tim, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), fluff and smut, oral (m receiving), titty fucking (don't look at me), unprotected PiV.

A/N: Another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio and this one is just silly, silly (until the smut😂); as always, can be read standalone. You guys know that TikTok couples trend where the user films their significant other's reaction when they try to leave the house without a kiss goodbye/saying "I love you"?  Ok, Shutterbug tries it on Tim (and Tim does not have the TikTok) 🤭🤭.

Photography inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

You’re chuckling to yourself as you send goodnight messages to your friends.  While Tim’s been getting ready for bed in the bathroom, you’ve been catching up on the memes and TikToks that have been sent since you last opened the chat.  The latest ones all a variation of the same couples trend.

Hubby’s reaction when I try to leave without kissing him goodbye!

Pranking my boyfriend by not saying “I Love You” back.

Watch me confuse my golden retriever s/o.

The trend is mainly silly, the humour laying in the adorable confusion of partners who are clearly in love with their significant others.  Even if most of these videos are likely staged, you find yourself smiling at them.  Looking up to see Tim turning off the bathroom light, your heart skips a beat at how delicious your handsome boyfriend looks in his nighttime wifebeater and boxers combo; he’s giving you that lopsided, adoring smile that always makes your stomach flutter.  Damn you love him.

[10:49 pm] Good night babes!  Thanks for the laughs!  I think I’m going to try this on Tim tomorrow.

[10:50 pm] Hahaha! Oh my god, tell us how it goes!

[10:50 pm] Good night!  Yes, report back!

[10:51 pm] Oh yes please, I tried it on Andy and he was just like, ‘Did you hit your head?’ Hahaha!  Good night!

[10:51 pm] Good night!! Love you, bbs!

“What are you smiling about, Shutterbug?” Tim grins up at you after he slides into bed and snuggles his head into your pillow, ignoring the perfectly matching and fluffy ones on his side of the bed. 

Giggling, you set your alarm and put your phone away, “Just watched some funny TikToks that the girls sent.”

“I swear it’s like a secret language.  Sometimes those chats of yours are just videos and pictures - no actual words,” chuckles Tim as you turn off your bedside lamp and slip down under your shared covers.

“It is!  Like a friendship love language.  You should get TikTok, Detective – then we could speak it too,” you give Tim a playful smile because you already know what his answer is going to be.

“Don’t need to, Shutterbug.  You show me all the good ones anyways, and explain them to me if I don’t understand,” Tim presses a long and soft kiss to your lips, coaxing your mouth open so he can slowly lick in.  An invitation.

It’s a given that you’ll accept.  You gently roll the detective’s massive frame onto his back with your hand, the gentlest of nudges, before climbing on top of him. “It’s hard work, you know? Staying on top of all these memes and video trends,” you murmur, lips ghosting over Tim’s as your hips start to lightly grind down over his growing bulge, “Hard work should be rewarded.”

“Is that what you want, gorgeous?  To be rewarded?” Tim smirks into your neck as he trails kisses down the column of your throat.  You whimper in assent as his rough hands start to claw up your waist, thumbs drawing sweet circles on the underside of your breasts.

“Gotta use your words, Shutterbug,” teases Tim.

“Yes, please, Detective!  Reward me,” you manage to breathe out before letting out a joyous squeal at the lightning speed with which Tim flips you over.  Pinning you to the bed under his massive weight and kissing you hungrily, Detective Tim Rockford growls against your plush and pouty lips, “Going to reward you and then ruin you, baby,” turning your sweet giggles into moans.

The next morning, you have an early meeting that has you leaving for work earlier than usual.  Tim is just getting out of the shower when you slip on your work shoes and call out, “Bye!  Have a good day, Detective!”

Grabbing your jingling keys from the key bowl, you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing when you hear the hurried strides of your boyfriend rushing out of the bathroom.

“Have a good day, Shutterbug.  I love you,” Tim exhales as slows down and reaches the front foyer, glad to have caught you before you left.

You immediately regret turning around – this is going to be a lot harder than you thought; Tim is fresh from the shower with only a towel hung low on his hips, steam still rising off his hot body and residual drops of water dot his hard chest like diamonds.  His wet hair is slicked back, making him look distinguished even in his nearly nude state.  Forget not kissing him - how the hell are you supposed to keep from pouncing on him like a wildcat in heat?

Your best option has to be a quick escape; hand on the door handle you practically yell, “Okay, bye!”

“Wait!” Tim looks confused that you didn’t meet him halfway for a goodbye kiss as you normally would, but he smiles indulgently at your slightly frazzled behaviour.  It’s early and you didn’t get much sleep last night, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Avoiding eye contact, you feign patting your pockets and looking in your purse, “No, I’m good!  Thanks, babe!”  You’ve almost got the handle pressed all the way down when you hear Tim’s voice closing in behind you, “Are you sure?”

Shoot.

You turn and put on a tight smile, trying not to look into the eyes of your stupidly dreamy boyfriend, but where can you look?  Where can you look?  Not that solid wall of muscle that’s close to caging you in, that’s for sure.  You can’t even look at Tim’s jaw because that adorable patchy spot in the scruff on his left side always melts you into a puddle of goo.  You say to his forehead, “Yeah, I’m sure, why?”

“Just seems like you might be forgetting a thing or two, gorgeous,” Tim smirks, but if you would meet them, you’d see that his eyes are starting to worry.

“I really should go, Tim,” you say with a sympathetic tilt of your head, “I can’t be late for this meeting.”

He has you trapped, your back pressed against the door, but Tim isn’t leaning in; he’s sure by now that you’re not kissing him on purpose, but he has no idea why.  Not wanting to force anything upon you, he just waits – giving you some time in case you change your mind.

After about twenty seconds of silence, you nearly squeak, “Tim?  I have to go to work.”

With a furrowed brow, Tim steps back to allow you to open the door for your getaway, “Okay, love you, Shutterbug.”

You nod as you slip out, “Okay!  Talk to you later.”

Now Tim is straight up flabbergasted – he catches the front door before it closes and calls after your retreating figure, “Baby, I love you!”

You turn around and actually give him a thumbs up?!  He’s about to leave the apartment half naked to come after you and ask what’s wrong when he sees you slide into the elevator right before the doors close.

What the hell was that?

---

In the elevator you exhale the ridiculously loud breath you’ve been holding and slump against the wall.

[7:38 am] Total fail, girls.  That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and Tim had no reaction at all!

---

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Tim absentmindedly taps his pencil against the edge of his desk, the repetitive noise echoing off his office walls and into the bullpen.  It was a habit he picked up a long time ago, and everyone at the precinct knew that if they heard that sound coming out of Detective Rockford’s office, it meant something had him stumped.

Your odd behaviour this morning has been on Tim’s mind all day.  He can’t for the life of him figure out why you didn’t want to kiss him goodbye.  Other than being a little harried, nothing seemed out of the ordinary with your exit this morning – your words were sweet and cheerful, you didn’t seem stressed about your meeting.  Was it his morning breath?  No, he had just brushed his teeth.  And even if it was your breath that prevented you from kissing him, it didn’t explain why you wouldn’t say “I love you.”  Normally so generous with your adulation and words of affection, he’s finding the change in your manner this morning to so off putting he can barely concentrate on police work.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Had he done something?  Surely you would have said; it wasn’t like you to play mind games.  And even if he had, when would he have done it?  The two of you had gone to sleep the night before perfectly content; Tim didn’t want to toot his own horn but you seemed more than sated after your three orgasms.  To add to his confusion, you’ve been texting him all day long like you always do, like nothing was wrong at all.

Cheerful texts announce when you got out of your meetings, then a sad picture of the muffin you accidentally dropped on the ground, followed by one of the much better cookie you got to replace it.  You send suggestions and ask him what he wants to have for dinner.  The funny comic panel from Instagram that you screenshot for him makes him laugh out loud.  Your messages say that you miss him and look forward to seeing him at home.  Tim answers them all as normally as he can without showing his growing skepticism.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Detective Rockford’s impressive solve rate is no match for this particular mystery.  What the hell was going on?  Tim suddenly recalls something his former captain and mentor had said to him once:  When you have conflicting pieces of intel, try to separate out the irrefutable.

Okay.  The only reason that you would refuse to kiss him or say ‘I love you’ would be if you didn’t want to.  And if you didn’t want to, it must be because you were unhappy with him.  For something.  It didn’t matter if you acted like nothing was wrong all day or he couldn’t figure out what he had done, it was irrefutable that he had made you unhappy.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

---

You get home a few hours before Tim and have most of dinner prepped before he’s due to arrive, so you decide to take a quick shower to wash off your work day.  Wrapped in the fluffy hotel-grade bathrobe that Tim had in fact purchased for you from the hotel the two of you stayed at on your trip to New York, you pad back into the kitchen humming to yourself.  You’re just thinking you’ll pop dinner in the oven when you’re surprised by your sweet boyfriend only just returned, gun holster still snug against his tight shoulders, waiting for you behind the kitchen island; big hands holding open the lid to a box of scrumptious looking macarons.

“Tim!” you exclaim, surprise and delighted, “You’re home early, baby!  What’s this?”

He looks sheepishly at you, “They’re ‘I’m sorry’ macarons.”

You look at him confused, “What are you sorry for?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he practically howls, looking like he’s at the end of his rope.

You rush over and throw your arms around your hulk of a man and pull him close, running your hands over his broad back in what you hope is a soothing enough manner, “Tim, baby, tell me what’s going on.”

Tim’s face remains buried in your neck, inhaling the soft smell of your body wash as he sinks every part of himself that he can, his face, his hands, his chest into your soft cotton clad body, “I’m sorry, Shutterbug.  I’m sorry for what I did to make you mad, and I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

Running a hand up to cradle Tim’s head, you’re so confused, but wait until his expansive body relaxes a bit against yours before pulling away a little so you can look at Tim’s distraught face, “Baby, I’m not mad at you.”

He studies the bewildered but sincere expression on your face and believes your confusion to be genuine, but that only adds to his own, “But you didn’t want to kiss me goodbye this morning, and you refused to say ‘I love you’ back.”

The sharp gasping sound you make is so startling it causes Tim to step back from you and he watches as your eyes widen in shock and your hands fly to cover your mouth in disbelief.  Then just as quickly, you launch yourself at him and press a flurry of soft kisses all over his face, his mouth, his neck, “Baby!  I’m the one who needs to be sorry!! It was just a silly TikTok trend!  You didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not mad at you!!  I’m so, so sorry you thought that!”

Tim comforts you with a gentle squeeze of your waist - you look beside yourself and ready to cry, but he still doesn’t understand, “TikTok trend?”

Grabbing your phone from the counter, you scroll to the videos in the chat you were watching last night and show them to him.  When Tim’s done watching the fourth video, he looks back at you chewing your lip adorably, worried, “So you’re not mad at me?  You just wanted to see what my reaction would be if you didn’t kiss me goodbye or say ‘I love you’ before you left?”

You look so small nodding up at him, “I’m sorry, Tim.  I didn’t know you would take it so seriously.  I actually thought it barely registered.  I never dreamed it would bother you.”

Now it’s Tim’s turn to be reassuring; stroking your cheek with two of his thick fingers, he tilts his head and smiles, “The woman I love more than anything suddenly won’t say she loves me or kiss me and it’s not supposed to bother me?”

“Oh Tim!” You fly into his open arms, lips crashing into Tim’s with a force that nearly sends him tumbling backwards.  Tim devours you with hunger and relief, so elated that rift he had imagined all day between the two of you turned out to be nonexistent.  You chase your deep and passionate kisses with light butterfly ones that map the entirety of his jaw and neck, fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt franticly to clear the path to his chest for your worshipping mouth.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmur against his skin, making up for the times you held back these same words this morning.

“I love you too, Shutterbug,” Tim hums, hands roaming down your back; dipping low to grab and knead the plush globes of your ass.

Breaking away, you slip your hands under the firm leather straps of Tim’s holster and walk backwards, pulling him along with a shy smile, “Come, Detective.  Let me make things up to you.”  Tim would follow you anywhere, so happy to have you back, even though he never really lost you at all.  He moves in a daze as you lead him over to the living room couch, directing him to sit before you sink down to your knees like a dream between his wide spread legs. 

Quickly undoing Tim’s belt and pants, you look up at your handsome boyfriend with big doe eyes, pleading with him to give you what you want; unable to ever deny you even if he ever wanted to (which he never did), Tim lifts his hips slightly and helps you slide his pants and boxes down his thick thighs, his already semi-hard cock bouncing out and slapping against the buttons of his dress shirt.

You lick your lips at the sight of Tim’s beautiful, girthy cock, head already swollen and weeping for you.  Reaching out to give him a few tentative strokes with your hand, you angle the tip towards your mouth and kitten lick Tim’s slit until his whole chest rumbles above you. 

Smiling to yourself when you see Tim’s eyes close at your efforts, you lick several long fat stripes from balls to tip, following the ridges of the thick vein that run along the underside of Tim’s length before happily taking him in your warm mouth.  At Tim’s low throaty moans, you slowly sink your face closer and closer to the grey peppered hair at his base, taking in more and more of Tim’s throbbing cock while stretching your lips as wide as they can in order to accommodate his impressive girth.  Hands covering what still remains after your mouth is stuffed full, you start to bob your head rhythmically; spit leaks out of your overstuffed mouth and drips down Tim’s dick, making it shiny and easier for your small hands to pump.  The slick, wet sounds of your mouth and hands working in tandem have you dripping in your robe, desperate pussy clenching around nothing.

“Baby,” Tim’s hands cup the side of your face and gently guide you so you come off of him with a pop.  Not sure how it’s even possible, he gets even harder at the sight of your blow out eyes and messy mouth, hands still working him lazily as you gaze at him, already cock drunk.  Tim’s other hand reaches forward to pull at the lapel of your robe, “Want to see them.”

Knowing what he wants, you gladly shrug open your bathrobe, letting the fabric loll off your shoulders and pull open the front so that your bare breasts spill out for Tim to ogle.  Tim groans as he watches you wipe the drool from you face and spread it over your chest, rubbing your mess into your supple skin as you grope and play with your seductive curves.

“Do you want to fuck my tits, Detective Rockford?” you coo.  Tim’s eyes snap open at your dirty offer, nodding eagerly, mouth agape.

Shuffling closer until you’re pressed up right against the couch, you reach for Tim’s cock, already standing at attention, practically saluting and ready to nestle in between your pillowy soft breasts.  Dribbling a little more spit onto his dick, you use your hands to lube him up before gently placing him in the valley of your breasts.  Once you have him where you want him, you flash Tim a sultry smile and use your hands to press your boobs together, squishing them so closely that the bulbous head of Tim’s cock nearly disappears.

“Oh baby, your tits are so pretty,” moans Tim, unable to peel his eyes away from your chest.

“Thank you, Tim,” you purr politely, starting to move yourself up and down, stroking him with every bounce.  Keeping up a comfortable pace, you keep your eyes down, mesmerized by how hot Tim’s gorgeous dick looks sliding through the snug fitting opening between your tits – the very sight has you gushing.

“Fuckkkkk, that feels so good, baby,” he chokes out. Tim worships your breasts; normally unable to keep his hands off of them, he loves groping and manhandling your plush curves with his big, rough hands, and rolling and playing with your nipples until they’re hard and pointy.  But watching you use your delicate hands to press and hold your tits together, up and out so that the tight and deep valley in between hugs his cock oh so perfectly is unlocking something new and feral within him. 

“Let me fuck ‘em, please, gorgeous,” he practically growls; when your response is to stop your movements and slobber more spit down onto his cock before smiling back at him with a wide-eyed look of innocence, Tim’s hips start moving of their own accord, bucking wild and furious.

“Oh yes, Tim, fuck my tits just like that,” you whine; Tim is driving his cock up between your breasts with such vigor that your whole body is being jostled despite your best attempts to hold still for him.  The top of your robe has long since fallen off your body, but the sash remains tied tight around your waist so that the lower hem remains floating over your thighs; the opening at the bottom starts to open of its own volition from all the movement and the luxurious piping in the hem catches on your clit so deliciously that you scream.  You start to meet Tim’s every upwards thrust with a little downwards bounce so that you can rub against your robe, chasing after that mind-numbing friction; with your added efforts, Tim’s cock nearly hits your lips with every pass between your tits.  Smiling to yourself, you tilt your head down so that the next time Tim pushes up, you press down and give his tip a little kiss.

Tim’s body shudders and he nearly loses his rhythm.  You do this over and over, kissing his swollen head with the gentlest of pecks every time Tim’s cock breaches the tight cavern between your breasts and pokes out to meet your affectionate mouth.

Tim’s low baritone groans and huffs are getting huskier and faster, “Fuck baby, wanna finish inside you.” 

“Yes, please, baby, need you in me,” you cry as you scramble off your knees and climb onto Tim’s lap.  The debauched feeling of having Tim fuck your tits plus the heady sensation of rubbing your robe’s hem against your pussy has you so close already - you’re sopping wet and needy.

You sink down on Tim’s angry cock and slip your fingers under the shoulder straps of Tim’s gun holster as Tim immediately starts to punch up into you; holding on to the supple leather for dear life as he fucks you like his personal fuck doll, you throw you head back and wail how good he makes you feel.  Your tits bounce in Tim’s face and he thinks about how they looked minutes ago wrapped around his cock and he’s ready to explode, “Gonna come, Shutterbug.  Fuck, come with me, baby.”

Tim reaches down between your bodies and applies the perfect pressure against your slippery clit, barely completing one rotation of his rough thumb before you seize and clench down on him.  Your loud cries of his name taper to a soft, desperate mewling as he fucks you through it, chasing his own high.

“Give me your cum, Detective,” you plead as you continue to pull against the leather straps that border his broad frame, “Fill me up, Tim.”

He shoots his load deep in your cunt at these words, willingly obeying your filthy command.  Not only would Tim never deny you anything, he would readily do anything, give you anything your heart desired.  Your happiness and well being are all that matter to him – he comes hard and with the assuredness of a man that knows his earlier concerns of having made you unhappy were completely unfounded.  All is as it should be once again.

Coming down from your high, you release your death grip on Tim’s holster straps and wrap your arms loosely around his neck, smiling at him affectionately, “Am I forgiven, Detective?”

Even if he wasn’t still inside your warm cunt or your perfect tits weren’t sitting right below his chin close enough to lick, Tim’s answer would be the same, “There’s nothing to forgive, Shutterbug.”  

Eyes soft and full of love, you hold Tim’s gaze as you affirm for him again, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  Each declaration of your feelings is accompanied by a corresponding press of your lips to his.  “I promise I’ll never do that to you again, Tim.  I’m going to kiss you and tell you I love you until you’re sick of it.”

“Never going to happen, Shutterbug.”

---

Afterwards, when the two are you are enjoying the ‘I’m sorry’ macarons that you giddily photographed, swapping cookies between bites so you can each try every flavour, you chew thoughtfully, “You know, this whole thing could have been avoided if you’d just get TikTok.”

You’re only joking of course, but your jaw drops when Tim holds his phone out to you, “Okay, Shutterbug.”

Eyes widening, you’re in disbelief, “Really?”

Tim grins devilishly and retracts his hand, “No, not really.  I don’t want to send you TikToks, baby.  I rather like the love language we have already.”  And with that he snatches the last bite of the lavender macaron from your fingers with his mouth and presses his lips to yours for the sweetest kiss you could ever ask for.

[smilingformoney]

Sharing Part IX | Eli/Reader

Summary: Eli reminds you who's who when you accidentally say the wrong name.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Although you were missing Lionel already, you were excited to see Eli again after six months away from him. Your flight landed quite late at night, so when the taxi pulled up at your house and you lugged your suitcase to the front door, the lights were already off, and Eli undoubtedly asleep.

You were exhausted after such a long flight, and you’d not slept on the plane in an effort to stave off jet lag, so as soon as the door closed behind you, you left your suitcase in the hall and zombie-walked to the bedroom, pausing only to strip down to your underwear, then climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep.

When Eli woke up, he forgot momentarily that you were due back, and his grumpiness at being woken by his alarm was mitigated when he rolled onto his back and found a gorgeous woman sleeping next to him.

He smiled smugly and wrapped an arm around your waist. You instinctively backed up into him, and his morning wood pressed into your ass. God, he’d missed this. Letting a grad student blow him for a good grade was fine, but no one could get him aroused like you could.

You were still asleep, but Eli had no intention of letting that stop him. He pawed lazily at your breast, his cock grinding against your ass in an effort to get a bit of relief. For six months he’d been jerking off in the morning, using the sexy pics you’d sent him to spur himself on, but now he had the real thing, and boy was he gonna enjoy it.

Hoping to wake you up, Eli pinched your nipple, and you let out a squeak. He grinned.

Your eyes were still closed, but Eli saw you smile, and he knew you were awake. He pinched you again, and you sleepily tried to bat his hand away. Eli let go of your nipple and took your breast in his hand instead, massaging it as he savoured the feeling of having his hand full of your tits again.

You stirred a little more. That’s it, Eli thought. Wake up and let me fuck you, [Y/n]…

“Lionel…”

Eli froze.

“You did not just fucking say that.”

Your eyes opened then and darted around, your brow furrowed in confusion, then landed on him and you smiled as you recognised him.

“Mmm, Eli… I forgot I’d come back…”

 “Yeah, you clearly fucking did.”

He rolled on top of you, pinning you face-down into the mattress, and you grunted as he winded you slightly.

“You’re not with your rich lover boy now, slut. You’re back with the boring old Chemistry professor. Sorry to disappoint.”

“‘M sorry, I’m still half asleep,” you mumbled against the pillow.

Eli slapped your ass, and you let out a yelp.

“That wake you up? This is Eli, by the way.”

“Shut up, I know who you are. C’mon, babe, lemme see you properly —” 

You tried to roll onto your back, but Eli dropped his entire weight on you, leaving you squashed between him and the mattress, your face only just turned to the side enough to breathe.

“I was so looking forward to a nice morning embrace with my girlfriend after not seeing her for six months, but I guess I gotta fuck some sense into you first, huh?”

You scoffed. “Like you weren’t gonna fuck me anyway.”

“I don’t need you to get off,” Eli snarled, knowing full well it was a lie. He squeezed your ass, feeling for bruises Lionel might have left behind, and slapped you again when he found a nice tender spot.

“What, you’d rather your hand than me? I doubt that,” you teased, getting more and more frustrated by the second that he wouldn’t let you turn over to see him properly. You hadn’t even kissed him yet!

“Mmm, or a grad student’s mouth. They don’t say another man’s name when my cock’s in their throats.”

You grunted in surprise when he took hold of your thighs and spread them apart, giving himself plenty of room to get between your legs. He released one thigh to free his hand to shove between your legs, fingers diving greedily into your warmth, and he laughed at you when he felt that you were wet already, easily letting him slide his digits in and out of your cunt.

“Don’t - don’t exaggerate, Eli,” you grunted, trying not to give away how his aggressive fingering was already driving you crazy. “Those girls don’t know how to open their throats wide enough to get your stupid cock in there.”

“Mhm, that’s true. Only a slutty throat like yours can take me all the way. When did Lionel last blow his load down there, huh?”

“In the - in the car on the way to the airport.”

Eli scoffed. “Of course. Bye, honey, I love you - by the way, can I get one last blowjob?”

He curled his fingers inside you, and you squealed, your legs twitching involuntarily.

“Right, that’s enough pretending I give a shit about foreplay. I gotta get my dick in that cunt.”

Eli grabbed your hips and pulled, forcing your ass in the air. He finally got a good look at it, Lionel’s bruises fading now but ready to be replaced by his. Your asshole stared at him teasingly, but he decided to leave that for when he had time to fuck you for as long as he wanted. Right now, he had to get to his lecture soon, so he dove straight into your pussy, his cock sliding in as easily as if it had never left.

“Mhm, Eli…” you groaned, and he smirked with satisfaction.

“That’s it — you know whose cock is whose, huh?”

“Oh, I can tell when it’s your cock, babe. Yours is bigger.”

Eli lowered himself over you, and you could feel his breath against your ear.

“You just saying that to butter me up, sweetheart? ‘Cus I don’t appreciate being lied to, you know that.”

“Nah, it’s true. Lionel’s fucking big, but you’re bigger. Now, you gonna put that massive cock to good use or not?”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

Fuck, he felt good. His balls slapped against your clit with each thrust, and there was something about the frustrated, aggressive way he fucked you that went straight to your core. His fingers dug into your hips as he held you tight, as if worried you’d try to slip away.

“God, I fucking missed this. Did you miss me?” Eli panted.

“You know I did, Daddy. Missed - missed your cock so much - fuck, yes, Eli…”

“Good girl. Now you know who you’re with, huh? You know just whose cock is in your tight cunt.”

“Mhm, Eli, Eli…” you mumbled, your brain filled with nothing but him, the pleasure he was giving you, and the sound of his desperate pants as he fucked you harder.

“I hope Lionel didn’t fuck the respect out of you, slut,” Eli said between grunts. “I am a doctor, you know.”

“So am I!” you insisted, but Eli just wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly, just enough to make you gag.

“And yet you surrender to me so easily, Dr [L/n]. You should be fucking grateful that you get to fuck me. I’m a Nobel Laureate - best mind in my field, don’t you know? So you’d better treat me with some fucking - respect - fuck, that’s it, squeeze my cock - milk me dry —”

“Eli…”

“That’s Dr Michaelson to you, slut. Call me by my proper title and I might let you cum.”

You might be a brat, but he knew you couldn’t resist an order when you were so close to orgasm, and all your impertinence fell away when he had you on the edge.

“Oh fuck, yes - yes, that feels so good - oh, Dr Michaelson - please —”

You wished you could see his face. He always looked so deliciously deranged when he was fucking you this furiously, every inch of his face etched with a mixture of anger and pleasure. Instead, you made do with feeling his skin against yours, his cock thrusting inside you, and the sound of his desperate grunts.

“Who’s in charge here? Huh?”

“You are,” you whined. You could feel your orgasm building, but you knew he wouldn’t give it to you until he was satisfied he’d fully reminded you of your place. “You’re in charge, Daddy. I’m all - all yours - fuck, Eli, please, I gotta cum!”

“Dr Michaelson,” Eli growled in your ear, and you groaned in frustration.

“Dr Michaelson, please, let me cum. I need - need to cum - need to milk your cock dry, please…”

Eli chuckled derisively.

“Such a desperate little slut. Alright, then. Show me how well you can milk me, Dr [L/n].”

He reached around your waist to flick his finger against your clit, and it was mere moments before you were cumming around his cock, crying out with pleasure into the pillow, and it was only when he was sure you’d ridden the aftershock of your orgasm that Eli let himself go, his hips slamming into yours with one final thrust as he groaned, his cock filling you up with his seed as he finally reached the climax he could only get with you.

Panting, Eli pulled out of you and rolled onto his back. You were relieved to finally be able to move, but even more relieved to be able to turn to him and look at him properly.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” you said as you looked up at him, and you meant it. His hair was a mess, his brow was dripping with sweat, and he looked exhausted. And it was fucking glorious.

Eli put an arm around you and held you close, his eyes closed as he caught his breath. He opened them and looked down at you, and grinned when he saw that you were just as sweaty and exhausted as he was.

“Mhm, I must be, ‘cus you’re gorgeous and I’m fucking you.”

“I missed you,” you purred, nuzzling his neck. You heard him chuckle and he wrapped his arms securely around you.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head. “God, I wanna cancel today’s lectures. Maybe I’ll just stay here and fuck you all day instead.”

“And deprive your students of the wisdom of the great Dr Michaelson? You wouldn’t dare,” you teased, looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. “Besides - I gotta get to the faculty meeting this afternoon to discuss next semester. Otherwise I would gladly stay here and fuck all day.”

“How ‘bout we get takeout tonight? Rent a movie and not watch it while you suck me off.”

“God, that sounds like Heaven,” you said with a dreamy smile. You kissed his shoulder, then rolled onto your back to let him up.

Groaning his protestations at having to get up, Eli rolled out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. You, meanwhile, not having any obligations until the afternoon, stayed in bed, your face pressed into Eli’s pillow. You smiled as the scent of him filled your nostrils.

Eli emerged from the bathroom to get dressed and had to resist every instinct in his body that was screaming at him to get back in bed with you. You were so tempting lying there, a cute little smile on your face as you held his pillow. You were back where you belonged, in his bed, and he was going to make the most of every moment with you over the next six months.

He had to turn away from you to get dressed, otherwise he really would just get back into bed, as much as he loved his job. He loved imparting his knowledge onto the eager students, he loved experimenting in the lab, and he loved it when a desperate student would crawl between his legs and suck him off instead of studying.

That last part would have to go, though. All the girls he was fucking were graduating this year, and he had no desire to be with anyone else when you were around. How you’d managed to control his philandering dick, he had no idea — maybe it was the fact that you let him do it that made it less appealing. Or maybe he’d finally met his match — after all, you hardly ever turned him down when he wanted to initiate. He’d always had a high sex drive, one his ex-wife Sarah had never been able to keep up with, but you were plenty able to keep up with him. Even better, you worked at the same college, so you were pretty much always around for him when he needed you.

If only he’d spent 20 years married to you instead. He’d loved Sarah - even with all the women he’d fucked on the side, she was the only one he’d ever loved - but she was nothing compared to you. He’d do anything for you. Hell, he’d once flown 5,000 miles on a whim because he was terrified of losing you to Lionel Shabandar. He couldn’t say he’d ever have done that for Sarah.

As Eli buttoned up his shirt, he glanced at you in the mirror. From the way you were breathing steadily, he strongly suspected you’d already fallen back asleep.

He smiled to himself. Leaving you in bed while he went to work was torture, but he’d take that every day over waking up without you. Hell, he’d even take leaving you in bed with Lionel if it meant he could wake up next to you at all.

He didn’t want to keep passing you back and forth every six months. He wanted you every day, and if he had to share you with Lionel, he would.

He wanted to marry you.

He knew you’d never agree. Marriage was monogamy, and it was clear you weren’t built for that. Neither was he, and nor was Lionel for that matter. But still, he loved you, and he wanted to call you his wife.

“You’re gonna be late,” your voice mumbled from the pillow.

Eli chuckled.

“I got the best reason to be,” he replied. “Sorry I’m late, class, I was fucking my girlfriend. She just got back from six months of fucking another guy and I had to remind her whose cock is better.”

You snort-laughed, and your phone went off. You rolled over and grabbed it from the spot on the floor you’d thrown it when getting undressed the night before.

“Is that him now?”

You hummed the affirmative, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you read Lionel’s texts.

Lionel: Did your flight get in okay? You: Yep. Headed home now. Going straight to sleep. 😴 Lionel: I doubt Eli will allow that. You: He’ll be fast asleep by now. I’m sure he’ll say hello in his own way in the morning.

Lionel: Good morning. I’m just about to go to sleep. Everything okay?

You texted your reply:

You: I may have said your name in my sleep… Lionel: Of course you did 😉 I bet Eli loved that. You: I think he’s still pissed at me. Lionel: You can always come back. Clearly you want to.

“I’m going now, if you care,” Eli called from the door.

“Nooo!” you whined, putting your phone down so you could make grabbing motions towards him. “Kisses first!”

Eli rolled his eyes, though he smirked at your eagerness for his attention, and crossed the room to lean down and give you a passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him back into the bed, but he was stronger than you and reluctantly stood his ground.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you too, Eli.”

He gave you one last kiss, gentler this time, then straightened his shirt and made his way out the door before he could succumb to the temptation of staying in bed with you.

Your phone buzzed again.

Lionel: I miss you.

You smiled.

You: I miss you too. Good night ❤️

[twst-hottest-takes]

Cold take: Wtf was Leona's plan in Book 2? I know it was supposed to be Ruggie using his UM to take out Spelldrive players from the other dorms and eventually Malleus.

Problems: No Savanna Claw students were targeted which was mega sus. Even then, I don't think Leona should've targeted a bunch of Spelldrive players in the first place cause Savanna Claw should've been capable of taking them out in a fair match, and it's suspicious. Malleus was the #1 problem, so Leona should've focused on laying low and focusing his energy on him.

The plan hinges on Ruggie's UM, so if something happens to him it's game over.

I know the stampede is a reference, but there's gotta be a way to take out Malleus. Poison (or iron if that still works), telling Malleus that the tournament was rescheduled so he misses it (Malleus has missed ceremonies before so it would work), using Laugh With Me on Silver/Sebek and uhhh... y'know.

Book 2 is right up there with Book 5 in terms of frustrating writing choices.

Yeah, it's a serious stinker. It makes no sense and I am still trying to think of exactly what kind of person we're supposed to see Leona as. Supposedly he's a really smart dude in a lot of respects but his major character story block in this game makes him look like an idiot. When I first read the chapter I was worried for Jack because I thought Leona and Ruggie would target him after he admitted he didn't want to go along with the sabotage plot. Now I look back and think that's what SHOULD have happened. Not only would it make Savanaclaw look less suspicious overall but there's a lot of potential for character drama and growth. The whole plot was never really a mystery. It doesn't take much to figure out what's going on. They don't even try to hide that Ruggie is the playing piece behind the instances, and Leona is so stubborn and proud he's straight up acts dumb. He convinces Crowley to keep Malleus in the same player bracket as the rest of the school when that's blatantly unfair only to try and cheat to keep him off the field anyway? And you're right, Anon, the plot to target other players makes no sense because by all rights Savanaclaw mops the floor with every other dorm's Spelldrive team.

The premise they try to sell is that Leona is too lazy to want to do much in the tournament but he still wants to win, right? Well he put way too much effort into concocting a convoluted plan that doesn't even affect his main target until the last minute. The entire leadup of suspicious sabotage is 100% unnecessary and it just led to them getting prematurely found out! The people writing this chapter gave no hoots. They didn't want to come up with a more clever plan that relied on sleuthing to figure out that some big event was going to happen to ruin the Interdorm Spelldrive tournament. They had to come up with this cockamamie scheme to flag down Savanaclaw like idiots because otherwise the plot wouldn't happen. This one grinds my gears because the poor execution and bad storytelling really just sets Savanaclaw up as the worst dorm for the entire rest of the game and it's very hard to live that down.

JUSTICE FOR SAVANACLAW IN GENERAL THIS TIME! (Second worst written chapter.)

Thank you for your take. (Cold though it may be.)

(I think a lot of people will agree with this one.)

[futterurl]

a mile schmidt idea: reader riding his thigh since he’s so tired from work but wants to see them get off anyway 🤭

oh my god PLS ive never been one for thigh riding but this is so fucking hot. oh my god ur so smart anon ily

WARNINGS: mike schmidt x fem! reader, thigh tiding (no way), clit play, orgasm

keep in mind i havent read a single thigh riding fic ever so im sry if this is like. super short and not good at all.

- - - - - - - - - - -

mike was so tired from his shift. he forced himself to stay up, just in case something happened. he opened the door to the sight of you laying down on the couch, your droopy eyes almost closing. once you heard the door. you looked up to see him.

he looked at you with lust in his eyes. seeing you, your beautiful figure lay on the couch. it was just what he needed to see after a hell shift.

he always felt bad, having you watch abby practically every single night. he wasn’t able to pay you back. he knew you deserved so much better, and with a tired, barely working brain, he didn’t think about the consequences.

“let me make it up to you.” he looked at you with tired eyes. he wanted to make you feel good, but he barely had any energy to do anything.

you stood up, confused. he didn’t let you talk as he kissed you, hands rubbing all over your body. you guys walked over to his room. he locked the door, making sure you were still making out with each other. ever touch filled with lust.

you started to straddle him, unconsciously grinding lightly on one of his thighs while kissing him. he got an idea.

“please. ride my thigh. wanna watch you cum on me.” he was practically begging at that point.

he pulled his pants down, only clad in his boxers. he helped you take off your pants and panties, revealing your dripping cunt to him. he wished he wasn’t so tired, or he’d ask you to sit on his face, or fuck you. something like that.

you sat back down on his thigh, your slick getting on his naked leg as you started to grind your cunt against it, needing to feel friction. he held his hands on your hips, keeping you balanced and steady as you rode his thigh. he squeezed your sides, he couldn’t get enough of you.

after you let out a slight moan, he brought you into his shoulder, noises muffled.

“gotta be quiet. no matter how much i wanna hear your pretty moans.”

you continued to let out muffled moans into his shirt as you rode his thigh with more vigor, your juices dripping down his leg. he could tell you were starting to feel really good.

once he dipped his hand down to rub your clit, you had a very hard time muffling your moans. you tried to be quiet, you really did, but as you were grinding on his thigh, you started to get close.

he looked at you, chasing your high. seeing your beautiful figure, bouncing on his thigh as you tried to cum, trying to silence your moans. it was almost enough to make him cum. almost. if he weren’t so goddamn tired.

“please, m’ close, please, fuck.” you whimpered, starting to get desperate. you started to ride his thigh even faster.

“come for me. let go. please. please come. wanna see it. you’re so hot.” he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he started to rub your clit even faster.

after a few more seconds, you were spasming on his thigh as you approached your orgasm. mike kept attaching your clit as you rode out your high, juices getting all over his leg.

once you calmed down, you just. leaned into him, starting to become as tired as he was.

he didn’t care that his leg was wet with your cum. he didn’t care if he was down bad. he didn’t care. all he wanted was this moment, for you to be in his arms. it was perfect for him.

after covering you both with a blanket, he wrapped his arms around you, as you both fell asleep, cuddling each other.

[melodygatesauthor]

Praying for Love

Marc Spector X Stripper f!Reader

Not Beta Read - For the @moonknight-events Bingo Event!

Prompt: "Beg."

Summary:

Marc comes to the club where you work every week religiously. He always asks you the same question, and you always give him the same answer, no matter how pretty he looks when he's begging.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, stripper reader, dirty talk, begging, teasing, lap dance, coming in pants, drinking, mentions of (Marc) being drunk.

Word Count: 1.1k

You stood between Marc’s legs, dancing the same dance you did every other night he waltzed into the club. He grabbed onto your hips, his hands squeezing tighter than usual.

“Marc, you know you’re not supposed to–”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture, honey.”

You bent over, planting your ass in his face the way he liked. You felt him tuck some bills into your panties right in front of your cunt.

He chuckled, “oh, you’re wet, having a good time?”

You turned around and looked down at him, “not as good a time as you,” you nodded, staring right at the bulge in his pants. 

His cheeks flushed, and he scowled coldly at you. Despite being a difficult man, Marc was one of your favorite, and best customers. He was easy to pull a few hundred dollars out of every night with the simple act of making him think you loved him. The man was so desperate for affection and touch he’d be willing to spend any amount just to have you lie to him.

That’s not to say that you didn’t care for him in some way. You weren’t heartless, but you cared about him the way a grocery store clerk might care about the old woman sharing her life story at the checkout line unprompted. You could call it natural human empathy. Marc was a sad man, and you were trying to pay rent. The two of you had a symbiotic relationship.

He didn’t want a real relationship anyway.

You carded your fingers through his lightly gelled hair, climbing into his lap one leg at a time and straddling him. You lowered yourself so you were brushing against his bulge, rubbing your cunt along the hard length of him. You bit your lip.

“So hard for me, Marc, so big,” you leaned in, kissing the skin right below his earlobe.

“Fuck, honey,” he whispered in a raspy tone, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath.

You churned your hips more, whining into his ear and making sure to sound desperate. He liked when you really acted like you wanted him. It wasn’t far from the truth. Of all the men you’d danced for in the bar, Marc was in the top five that you’d consider actually sleeping with. You weren’t going to though. You had a strict policy of not sleeping with your customers. They tended to get too attached. 

That didn’t mean you couldn’t ruin a pair of pants or two though. It always kept them coming back for the hopes that next time you might give them more.

“When are you gonna let me fuck that pretty little cunt, hm?” He asked in a low grumble.

You chuckled, “maybe if you beg real nice I’ll consider it.”

Marc sneered at you, lip curling up in a snarl. He grabbed your asscheeks roughly, eyes locking onto yours while he looked at you from under his lashes. He always got a little rough when he was that drunk, and you liked it.

“Just fuck me, come on.” He rubbed the meat of your hip, trying very clearly to keep his composure.

“You gotta do better than that,” you whispered, grinding your crotch even harder against his.

“Fuck, just take it out, please, just sit on my dick for a second baby. Just a goddamn second. I won’t tell,” he looked up at you, eyes pleading desperately.

You dragged yourself along his clothed bulge again, watching his eyelashes flutter so pretty.

“You want this?” You rocked yourself on him again. “You want my pussy baby?”

You moaned in his ear, peppering soft kisses along his jawline in between each breath you took.

“Beg,” you demanded.

He growled and held your hips against his lap tightly, rutting upward and breathing heavy.

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars just to let me stick the tip in. Just let. me. fuck. you.” He breathed.

You tutted, rolling yourself over him more, moving your body in a dancing motion like you were supposed to all along.

“Is that all you think I’m worth? A thousand bucks?” You chuckled. “I’m not a cheap whore, try again big spender.”

You bit your lip and you could tell you were starting to get under his skin. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, you felt his cock getting impossibly hard underneath you. You could hear his breathing grow more ragged. If looks could kill, Marc Spector killed you ten times over just now.

“Honey, I’m not gonna last much longer and I know you want this. That little pussy of yours is so wet, why don’t you give it what it wants, hm?” He tucked his fingers into the leg of your panties, under the bills he’d put in there and he brushed his knuckle against your swollen clit.

You leaned in and whispered, “baby boy, I’ve been wet since my shift started a couple hours ago. You’re not special for making me horny. I do this job for a reason.”

His brow turned up and stitched together in the most pathetic look you’d ever seen on a man. He sucked in his bottom lip and looked up at you, eyes pleading desperately.

“What do I have to do,” he conceded his ego, and for that you almost - almost - gave in.

“Be a good boy and come for me,” you said against his ear, flicking his lobe with the tip of your tongue.

As if his body was under your command, he came, cock twitching wildly against the zipper of his pants. You sighed, kissing his neck and nipping at the skin as if to leave a little mark for him to enjoy in the mirror the next day when he was sober and regretting his life choices. He jolted, holding you tight against his lap, his cum soaking through onto your thighs. After a moment, Marc’s breathing returned to normal after a moment, and his chest stopped heaving against yours.

You leaned back, grabbing his hand and pulling his finger from your panties. You brought his hand up to your mouth, popping the arousal slick digit into your mouth, sucking it free of your juices before kissing it and putting it back down at his side. You left him with a kiss on the cheek and a tap on his nose with your index.

“I’ll be back next time, honey, and next time I’m gonna feel that cunt,” he slurred on his way out the door.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you smirked, knowing full well that you’d have the same song and dance next time, and every time after that.

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[sparkle-barnes]

Not really a request but more of a headcannon/thought!

Bucky is still discovering all the internet has to offer regarding ✨porn✨, and he comes across a video of a girl…letting go all over a guys lap and it’s all he can think about for like the next week until he finally works up the courage to ask you to try it

omg first one!! thank you! tw: piss kink and wetting below the cut. don’t read if it’s not your thing!

but okay no because you can tell there’s something on his mind the day he finally works up the courage to ask you. he’s fidgety and won’t quite meet your eyes, mumbling something about holding and wetting

and maybe it’s not something you’d considered before, but you agree anyway because he’s shy about it, and bucky has never been shy before when asking you to try something new.

you both have the day off, you’ve been holding almost all day at this point. but it’s only over the last few hours that he’s been giving you glass after glass of water.

“c’mon bucky, i gotta go,” you whine. he’s sitting on the couch and you’re on the floor between his knees, squirming and holding yourself to keep from leaking. it’s getting harder as the minutes pass, your bladder aches and you’re not sure if you’re wet because you enjoy it or because you’re not holding so well as you think.

he shushes you and combs his hand through your hair. “you can hold it sweetheart. here, be good and finish this glass.”

bucky hands you the half empty glass of water from the side table and watches as you drain it. you’re so full, you don’t think you could drink another glass even if you wanted to.

as soon as he takes the empty glass from you your hands are back between your legs, rubbing yourself over the pink panties he’d asked you to wear.

it’s not enough. you feel a leak and you press your legs together. “bucky i can’t- fuck! i’m leaking, i can’t hold much longer.”

your cheeks are burning. it’s embarrassing, humiliating, but you can’t bring yourself to hate it. not with the way bucky watches you with lust-blown eyes, or the way he licks his lips and bites them.

he slides down onto the floor with you and tugs you onto his lap, forcing you to spread your legs. you whine, feeling your control slipping further now that your legs aren’t crossed and your hands rest on his shoulders.

buckys hard, tenting his boxers and leaving no question as to how much he’s enjoying watching you squirm. you settle in his lap and you both moan as you start to grind over him.

he presses on your bladder and you leak again, more this time. “shit,” you hiss. “baby, i’m- you gotta let me go. i can’t hold it.”

bucky groans and grabs your hips, humping up into you. “c’mon honey. let go. i bet it’ll feel so good, finally releasing all over me.”

you look at him, but his eyes are glued to the dark pink wet spot on your panties. you didn’t expect him to be so bold with this, not when he’d been so shy to ask you. then again, bucky had never been shy in the bedroom.

another leak. a trickle, really, one that you can’t really stop this time. you groan and hide your face in his shoulder, embarrassed that you’re enjoying this so much. not that you have any reason to be, when bucky is moaning like he is.

his hand presses against your belly and this time you can’t stop it. there’s no leak, no trickle, it’s a full blown stream as you finally let go.

warm piss soaks your panties and his boxers, pooling on the hard floor around you and all you can do is moan. he was right, it does feel good.

“yeah, fuck, fuck,” bucky groans. his hips stutter up into yours and you’re boneless, letting him roll your hips over his like some ragdoll. “god i can’t believe you’re really pissing on me, shit!”

you whine in response. the stream doesn’t stop for what feels like forever until it finally trickles to a stop. he shoves his hand under your soaked panties to circle your clit and you cum with an intensity you didn’t know was possible.

bucky follows not long after you, fucking his dick up into the wet mess you made, pumping cum into his equally drenched boxers.

he kisses you, too sweetly for what the both of you just did. “that was so fucking hot, thank you baby.”