#come on man. maybe if you just sucked dick every once in a while you’d stop being so afraid of it :/

[mars-ipan]

sinner hajime banning random foods so he doesnt think abt sucking dick but it spreads to just nonphalic foods too. bc

no bananas, no eggplants, no pickles, no cucumbers, no popsicles, no vanilla icecream, no cherries they look like balls, no grapes that looks like an asshole, no burger buns without seeds those r asscheeks, no burritos , no milk, no wings with sauce, no ranch. i dont knoww... i just thought of this in a haze. only exception is if komaeda's feeding him because then it's been purified and it's a-ok if it kinda looks like he's stuffing his cheeks with penis when eating a banana

someone page freud we have a psychosexual breakdown going on

[satorena]

༊*·˚ D!CK OFF LIMITS !?

bad ☆ summary. why won’t he let you suck his dīck?

warnings. explicit content. 18+. foul language. cunningulus. fīngerīng. premature ejacūlatīon. semi public sēx. usage of toys. facials. mirror sēx. dom/sub undertones. preestablished relationships. reader is a fiend for his dick. afab!reader. could be angsty at some point ? fwb to . . . lovers ? 7.4k words (kill me now).

rena's ☆ note. this idea came to me while i was drunk.

you wonder if gojo thinks you have gingivitis.

that thought was unlikely, as he was always eager to shove his tongue down your mouth, tongues sloshing and secreting saliva as his hands roamed between your thighs, knuckles deep into your cunt.

then maybe he assumed you were a biter— which would be highly hypocritical of him, as he’s known to get on his knees in the nearest bathroom stall and flip your skirt up, push your panties to the side and plunge his canines into the flesh of your ass before tongue fucking you.

well, maybe he simply didn’t get off on pleasing you— yeah you knew it wasn’t that one, if the way he thrusted his bulge in the air whenever your thighs wrapped around his head for relief every time he ate you out said anything.

you simply didn’t understand— what man would refuse receiving head after giving the nastiest of it?

your fingers clawed at a snowy pile of hair, back arched as you ground your hips into his mouth. he ate your pussy like a starved man, sloppy and coordinated, as his lips latched onto yours as if he’d die without your taste in his mouth

his tongue swiped up your juices as he lapped at your folds, dragging the top of his wet muscles against your core, nibbling at your puffy clit. gojo was on his knees, moaning like a slut in between your thighs as you used him to chase your orgasm.

“ngh, fuck— right there baby,” you mewled, toes curling as your back hit the cold wall of the bathroom stall. his hands gripped at your ass, caressing and squeezing the mounds to pull you in tighter than you’d already been. your mind felt hazy, so overcome with lust that you were ready to burst your dam down his throat. “oh m’ goddd, so fuckin’ close toruuu!”

“give it all t’me pretty baby,” his words come out muffled, only pulling away just slightly. his rosy lips are glossed your arousal and his saliva, a consistency so thick it connects a strand of fluid from your bottom lips to his own. his skin is blotched in lust, cerulean eyes dazed in awe. “cum in my mouth princess, needa taste you.”

your orgasm washes over you before you can even register it, a sensation so powerful you cry out as your dam erupts. splurges of your essence shoots from your cunt down to his mouth, and as you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, you notice so does he. his fingernails dig into the flesh of your skin, pinning you down as he humbly welcomes your cum.

“s’gooddd, shit toru!” you feel your bottom lip quivering, limbs twitching from overstimulation as he continues to ravish you. your groin tingles in heat, body weak as it succumbs to the pleasure gojo gives it. you feel weak, a feeling you’re never able to adapt to no matter how much he attempts to prepare you for it. “uhn uhn— too much, can’t take it!” your head shakes from side to side, nails clawing at his scalp as you attempt to push him away.

the pad of his fingers slip from your ass to snake in between your legs, spanking your wet pussy thrice to keep you in check, and your knees crumbles. gojo latches his lips at your clit once more, and you feel the world blackout. “stop that— fuckin’ take it baby. i know my good girl can take it.”

he leaves you no choice, eyes trailing upwards to land on your figure, the dip in your back so sinful that you feel as though both your bodies have merged into one. his tongue works so deep into you, it feels as though you’re both puzzle pieces that were made to connect to one another. your thighs are quivering around his head, and you feel your back slipping against the wall. shit.

“mmhm, nooo, ‘m gonna cum again!” you pout, tears built at your lash line now streaking down your cheeks. it’s all too much— the sensation so raw that you look for an escape. you want to push him off, to take a breather and regain your composure. but he’s looking at you with such expectations, eyes shimmering with eagerness as he lifts both your legs onto his shoulder for support.

he manhandles your body like it’s nothing— like you weigh nothing. your limp body now slides upwards, higher up in the air than you’d been a second ago. gojo rises to his full height and motorboats into your dripping cunt.

you wail out, head throw back against the stall as a desperate mouth gnaws at your folds. you’re sure he’s dripping from his mouth to his chin, a mixture of fluids so prominent that it dribbles down to the marble floor. “haaah, oh shit— baby, i can’t— fuck, y’eat my pussy sooo fuckin’ good!” the praises flow past your tongue so naturally, hands torn between pushing and pulling away from the painful pleasure. “nghhh, i— ‘m gonna— holy shit!”

your back hits the wall in waves of full body twitches, your cunt clamping down on his tongue as you weakly splurts drops of more cum. fat tears stain your cheeks, blood rushing hotly from head to toe, spraying gojo’s face in your essence.

“atta fuckin’ girl.” he groans into your pussy, almost more drunk on the taste of you than you are. he flicks his tongue up and down, dragging your orgasm as far as he can, completely enthralled by the desperate thrusts of your hips into his face. you’re smearing his face with your fluids, and from the fucked out look on your face— eyes crossed and tongue lolled out, he decides this might be the best way to go. “there we go— yeah baby, jus’ like that, mhmm.”

the timeline from your coming down to actually coming down to the floor is all blurry, but you’re barely able to stand on your two feet when you feel his hand cup at your chin tightly. his index finger raises your face to stare up at his, all moist from fluids and humidity but you don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

his lips meet yours desperately, lips sloshing over one another as the taste of your cum now sits atop your taste pallets. his free hand snakes around your waist, holding you still as you lazily loop your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

he’s so good at it all— the nibbles of his teeth at your bottom lip making your legs go weak, stomach churning in more lust. he smells like a mixture of you and his expensive cologne— so satoru like, that you’re positive if this keeps going, you may blackout on the cold floor of this bathroom stall in the club.

he kisses you like he’s got something to prove, and eventually your lungs are filled with his provided oxygen, and you truly believe you’re going to pass out. you pull just slightly away, much to his disdain. he whines, tip of your noses just barely an inch away as you pant over his cupid’s bow. “fuck.”

“mmhm, that good?” gojo teases, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk you’re too familiar with. you don’t have it in you to flick his forehead.

instead, you opt with sighing. “that good.” your hands trail down his nape, nails grazing at the sensitive skin beneath his undercut, scratching and lightly pulling at his locks. he shudders at your touch, leaning forward to rest his sweat forehead against yours.

your touches lower from his shoulders down to his chest, grazing your fingers over his perky buds, teasing his nipples. he’s so touch starved, jaw slackened as he moans— breath warm as it fans your face. your hands begins to lower down to his hips, seductive touches that has him biting his lips, hips instinctively jerking to meet with your light grazing.

you keep steady eye contact with him as your hands finally land at his raging bulge. the material over his hard-on is damp in his pre cum, and it feels hot beneath your touch. with a slight tilt of your head, “lemme take care of you, toru.”

you can see him battling his own thoughts. his pupils widen in lust, orbs swimming in excitement as you palm his erection more precisely. he’s twitching beneath your cupped hand, humping against your palm as his throat erupts a desperate pant.

you wonder if today’s the day he’s finally going to let you see his dick— to let you swallow him whole and please him just as he does with you. you want to get on your knees and take him so far down your throat that tears build and you force gags back down. you’re sure he’s all pretty and pink, a length to match his abnormally tall height and girth ready to stretch your throat muscles.

but as always, just like the night before, he chuckles and shakes his head. he’s refusing you again, hands gripping at your waist to push you away from him.

“you know i can’t do that baby,” he sighs, a small smile appearing on his wet lips. you can tell he’s frustrated with himself, so unsure as the pad of his thumbs rub the bare skin of your waist. you jut your bottom lip in annoyance, although expecting his refusal. “maybe next time, yeah?”

you’re annoyed as you push him away, pushing your skirt back down so it falls down your ass. and you’re sure he notices too. you don’t object when he grabs the toilet paper from the stall to clean the left over mess between your thighs— though your arms do cross over the flimsy material of your tight top over your chest.

“mhm, sure.”

☆ ☆

about a week later, you’re on all fours on his annoyingly large king-sized bed, hands clawing at his sheets as you push your hips back into his fingers. he’s scissoring your cunt open, knuckles-deep in and every precise thrusts has you seeing stars.

“yesyesyes!” you nod your head feverishly, babbles slipping past your tongue and dribbling down the damp sheets beneath you. “oh m’god, feels sooo fuckin’ good, ngh!” there you sat naked and exposed, getting the life fucked out of you by his fingers alone, a length so impossible that you’re convinced his index and middle finger eventually bump your cervix with how deep he works himself into you.

gojo lands a few kisses at the back of your thighs, kneeled down at the edge of his bed as he twists his fingers into your cunt. he’s enamoured by the sloppiness of your tight pussy gripping at his digits so desperately, a squelching sound so harmonious it has him rubbing his own thighs against one another.

“face down, baby.” gojo commands, his free hand coming up to press at your lower back. you obey his order, pressing your cheek down against his sheets, arms silently thanking the man for the break of supporting your body up. you mewl when you feel him plunging his teeth into the soft skin of your ass, before running a wet tongue over the stinging pain. “there’s my good girl. heh, such an obedient lil’ thing.”

you lay pressed against his bed as you take his ruthless pounding, the tip of his fingers reaching the gummy spot that has stars dancing at the back of your eyelids. god, he always knew how to make a mess out of you— your body his temple, a book he’s dead over a million times and has learned to memorize.

“cute lil hole jus’ seems sooo enticing,” you feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your twitching rim, waves of warm air tickling the muscle. it doesn’t surprise you when you feel his wet tongue caressing your tight hole with light touches, just pushing slightly past unspoken boundaries. your stomach tightens the more relaxed he becomes, lapping from the bottom of your cunt up to your asshole, savouring you whole as he works himself into your clingy pussy.

“t-toru, oh yes baby— ‘m gonna cummm!” you whine, sobbing when your orgasm finally does catch up to you— as if he hadn’t already known. you walls clamp down on his fingers for dear life, folds twitching as they secrete your honeyed essence all over his hand and down to his sheets.

gojo never lets up, stringing along as he encourages you even further, “that’s it babyyyy, there we go.” drool slips past his kiss-bitten lips and down to your sopping wet cunt, tongue still working its way at the tightness of your forbidden hole. you look so fucking cute all shaken up, barely keeping yourself together as your moans echoes off his walls and fade into the stillness of the night.

he’s so fucking hard it hurts, but he’d take seeing you wrecked and ruined by his hands alone over the selfish tendencies of asking you to take care of him back. and he knew you’d known that already, if the way your body immediately lurches forward to melt into the sloth ess of silk sheets beneath you said anything.

you feel large hands grip at your thighs, trailing up before landing on your ass. he spreads apart your cheeks, sticky residue spreading your pussy lips with a sinful sound. you shiver, the cold breeze hitting your cunt a mix of overstimulated senses hitting at once.

he collects your liquids at the pad of his fingers, before wrapping his tongue around the digits. he nearly cums at your taste alone, “fuckkk, y’taste so fuckin’ sweet, princess.” and he pushes forward to drag his tongue along the evidence of your orgasm on your thighs, trailing up to the cleft of your ass and to your cunt, cleaning up after his mess.

you know better, and yet you still try anyway. with a shy tilt of your head, you look back to the starved man between your thighs and offer the prettiest smile you can, cheeks flushed in heat and lips glossed in saliva. “y’gonna let me take care of you yet?”

it doesn’t surprise you when he chuckles, releasing the fat of your cunt from his mouth with a nasty pop! to rise up to his full height, bending over your body to entrap yours within his arms. your back arches as you tilt your head backwards to meet his gaze, boobs pressed up together.

he stares at you with an unreadable expression, though the prominent dimple sitting in his cheek pops. “this was more than enough for me, ya little minx.”

☆ ☆

“if we get c-caught, i’ll fucking kill you.” you whisper, hands curling at the edge of his office desk. your eyes repeatedly darted towards the unlocked door, right before you, where anybody could walk into his office and see their boss on his knees for you during his lunch break, eating you out.

he pulls away with a dreamy sigh, a firm grip on your ass jiggling the cheek. “a man can’t enjoy his lunch in peace? not my fault ‘m starving.” there’s a filthy string of your essence and his saliva that connects from his lips to your lower ones.

“get real!” you hiss at him, despite the familiar feeling of heat licking at your limbs. “you asked me to bring your lunch and— ohhh!” your words soon die in your throat as your head rolls forward, and your bottom lip now tucked beneath your teeth. the warmth slide of his tongue at your clit has your nails scratching the surface of his desk, and your back curves into him.

“you worry too much,” gojo mumbles, before pressing a kiss to your pussy. he feels it throb against him, as he hums and runs the pad of his fingers against your messy folds. you shudder at the stimulation, your hips subconsciously grinding down on his fingers to follow his wavelength. with a smug smile, “see? at least yer pussy’s honest wimme— just lemme take care of her.”

“f-fucking bastard.” you grit through your teeth, though you make no objections. you could act high and mighty all you wanted, you never pushed him away whenever he offered to please you. it was almost like he solely got off on it— your pleasure alone. “i h-hate you.”

“love you too, princess.” he smirks, and you decide to brush off the tight squeeze at your heart at his words.

his tongue fucked into your hole yet again, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. you really couldn’t get enough of this— of him. you’d repay him your gratitudes if he’d let you. you’d push him back, lay him down and suck his dick eagerly if only he’d let you. you wonder the length of his cock, if it curves, how flushed his tip must get or how much pre leaks from his slit. you want it so bad, and fuck if only he’d let you. but,

he doesn’t.

he gives and gives but never takes. he’ll call you and tells you he’s in dire need of eating you out— of making you cum, and the minute you return the same energy, he finds an excuse to walk away. you’re slowly losing your mind— you crave the taste of him on your tongue, to hear how whiney he sounds once his tip hits the back of your throat, or how pretty he’d look with his eyes rolled to the back of his skull and hips thrusting uncontrollably into your mouth.

“toruuu,” you whine, tilting your head back. tears build in your eyes as they accumulate at your lash line. your bottom lip juts, a soft pout resting on your lips as you flutter your lashes at the man behind you. even with a mouth full of your pussy, his eyes never lie. “c’mon, lemme return the— ngh, favour,” you feel a beat of a pause at your words, and you egg it on further. “i know you’re rock hard. . . you c-can put it in, i won’t, mmhm—mind.”

he swears he cums. he swears he feels his balls tighten and release hot and thick strings of cum in his slacks, briefs tainted white with shame. you were going to be the death of him— you and your doe eyes, glossy lips and perky ass. it grows sticky between his thighs, but his hips twitch as his throat erupts a guttural groan.

“you can’t just fucking say that,” gojo whines, nuzzling his nose into the cleft of your ass. he’s whimpering against your skin, breath warm and moist as his panting grows heavier by the second. you shake your hips against his face, batting your full lashes, and he groans even louder. “you have no idea what you do to me—fucking hell.”

“enlighten me then.” you reach your hand out to fluff his pile of damp hair. he instinctively leans into your touch, peppering kisses all over your skin. you’d never thought you’d have the gojo satoru on his knees for you, demanding you let him please you. “let me suck your dick toru, ‘m real good at it.”

his breath hitches in his throat and you’re positive you’ve finally got him. he’s going to cave in and sit on his office chair, pull his pants down and let you handle his mess. he’s going to realize he’s wasted plenty of time pushing the idea away the second you swallow his length whole and—

“i’m sure you are,” gojo speaks, but you can tell there’s a but following. you sigh, and he offers a sheepish smile in return. “but you know ‘m good here. just wanna make you feel good— your pleasure is mine, i promise. trust me on that, yeah?”

all arguments are thrown out the window the instant his lips latch back onto your sloppy ones.

☆ ☆

“uhn uhn. . . ‘s too muchhh!” you whine, squirming in his lap in attempts to run away. your clit ached almost painfully, repeatedly abused by the vibrations of the toy gojo had stimulating. the soft hums of the vibrator echoed in the room in harmony with your pleads, but gojo was a sadist and unfortunately you might’ve been a masochist. “c-can’t cum anymore!”

“aweee, but of course you can!” he kisses the sensitive skin on your neck, before nuzzling his nose into the crook. his legs spread wider to further open your shaky ones, and his free hand cups at your breast. “you pussying out on me, baby?”

no, you were not. “of c-course not,” you muster to glare at him through the reflection of the mirror before you both. piercing blue eyes never left your body for a second, drinking up every reaction you had to offer him. you nearly felt . . . shy at his gaze. “just hurts a little, fuckkk, you mean b-bitch.”

“mmhm.” gojo nods, fingers tweaking at the buds of your stiff nipples. he rolls the bud between his knuckles, drawing out broken moans out of you as the consistent buzz of the vibrator at your pussy doesn’t let up. he presses another kiss, at your temple, “you’re my good girl, i don’t expect otherwise.”

you bite your lip, cheeks flushing in what feels like embarrassment. him and his damn praises. he knows what he’s doing to you, rosy lips tugging into that smirk as his facial expression scream smug. you wish you could punch the bastard right in the face, but that thought is quickly gone when he pinches hard at your tits.

“shittt,” you mewl, grinding your hips down on his. you feel his bulge poking at your ass— so hard and prominent, proof of his arousal. his lap is drenched in your juices, evidence of multiple rounds seeping into the material of his sweatpants. “so fuckin’ good, hnng, you’re sooo fuckin’ good to me.” you raise an arm to grab at the base of his neck, threading your fingers through his soft locks.

you ooze sex appeal, everything you do and say so erotic, and gojo is easily your slave. “yeah?” he mumbles into your skin, though he looks at your reflection through snowy lashes. your back arches sinfully, ass pressed so snuggly against his lap and your pussy leaking buckets worth of cum. “tell me, what else am i?”

the vibrator attacking your clit has your left leg shaking uncontrollably, the knot in your stomach quickly tightening. you chew on your bottom lip, eyelids resting shut as you focus on spewing your next words, carefully selecting them. you can’t help the chuckle that reaches your mouth instead of a moan, “a bitch.”

“oh?” gojo cocks an eyebrow, another chuckle now audible despite it not coming from you. he drags the vibrator down your slippery folds and all the way back up to your clit, and you tighten your hold on his hair. “those weren’t supposed to be your next words, sweetheart.”

“y-you’re a bitch,” you continue regardless, and gojo can’t deny he’s attracted to you for your sheer audacity. he’s always been a fiend for a good challenge. “won’t even let me give you head— ngh, thought i was the one with a pussy.”

“you’re wounding my ego here,” gojo slides his hand from your tits and trail it all the way up to your mouth. he spreads your lips with two fingers, before hooking them at the corner of your mouth. “callin’ me a pussy? that’s a low blow, baby.”

you squint at him through the foggy mirror, applying pressure to the bulge poking at your ass. you smile when he groans into your ear, “you got a small dick or somethin’? gotta say— fuck, s-sure doesn’t feel like you do.” you throw your head back onto his shoulder, lips grazing over the shell of his ear, “should i check for myself? hnng, see if satoru owns a pussy?”

there’s a click in the air and suddenly the humming of the vibrator stops. finally. had you finally blown his fuse? ironically, your clit secretes more liquid as the idea of him finally pulling his pants off and dicking you down comes to mind. once his pride deflates, he does whatever he can to prove otherwise.

you’re sure you’ve got him.

“heh, you’ve got some nerve.” gojo snorts, and you don’t register how he’s manhandle you to the floor, hands holding your entire upper body steady as your thighs now wrap around his shoulders. the position has your back arched like a cat, and you raise your head up to watch him confusedly through the glass mirror.

two firm hands grip at your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he licks his lips hungrily, “it’s lookin’ like you’ll never know.” he bares his fangs at you, and you sigh before he feasts again.

☆ ☆

it doesn’t feel right. none of it does. it’s nowhere remotely near cheating, and yet, as this man litters your neck and chest with loving kisses, you feel your stomach churning in guilt.

here he is, offering himself to you, willing to give you what you’d been deprived off since you’d started your arrangement with gojo— willing to rock your world, bump hips and coax an penetrative orgasm out of you— but all you could think about was how wrong this all felt.

though a pleasant smell, these sheets don’t smell like him. they don’t feel like him either. instead of wide cerulean eyes and untamed white hair is stern brown eyes and kept blonde hair. where should be blotches of red on flawless skin is stress lines infused skin.

you felt awful, burning touches trailing between your thighs instead of that electricity that had your stomach twisting with butterflies.

“is everything alright?” the man pulls away from your legs, and questions. he’s so kind, willing to ask how you’re feeling in the midst of it all, and all you can think about is gojo.

no, nothing’s fine. “yeah, i’m good.” you lie, offering a smile. you’re a good liar, and it seems he falls for your words as he proceeds, pushing your panties to the side and works his tongue into you.

his movements are calculated and measured, paying attention to all areas of your cunt. he eats you out good, there’s no denying so, has your toes curling and back arching off his mattress. you lower your hand to tighten his locks, but even that feels wrong— it’s not as fluffy as gojo’s. you think you feel hair gel between your knuckles.

your mind runs a mile an second, overwhelmed by the sole idea that you were offering your body to another man. gojo wasn’t yours— not in the slightest, and yet, as he sucked on your clit and gripped at your thighs, your chest felt unreasonably tight.

you couldn’t do this any longer.

“wait— wait, please stop.” you push his head away, bottom lip quivering. he pulls away instantly, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your cunt. you feel sick at the confused look on his face. “i can’t— i can’t do this. i’m so sorry.”

the man stares at you for a moment, though never maliciously, and you feel like wanting to crawl into a hole. he nods his head, before pushing your panties back to where they belong, and pushes himself up. silence fills the air for a while, and you’re holding back tears. you’re not sure why, though.

“it’s gojo, isn’t it?” he asks, though he’s not posing a question. he knows, surely everybody knows that you belong to him in both body and soul, but this has only been a recently found discovery for you.

your silence speaks volumes, and the man nods once more.

“yeah, that’s what i thought too.”

☆ ☆

to say he was surprised was definitely an understatement. he wasn’t expecting you to show up at his place, despite already having given you a key to his apartment.

you barged through his bedroom door, a location you were already too familiar with and unknowingly had become so accustomed to. your chest is heaving as if you’d ran a marathon before showing up here, and he wants to kiss the pout off your lips. “pants off, now.”

gojo rises from his bed to stand at his full height, a surprised smile stretching onto his face. “woah, at least take me out on a date first! i’m not just some whore.” his hands comically rise up in surrender, and your frown deepens.

“why won’t you let me give you head?” you ask him before you can even process your choice of wording. when his brows jump to his hairline at your boldness, you feel your face warm in embarrassment. “i mean seriously— am i the problem?”

“what?” gojo blinks, taking quick strides towards your fuming self. he shakes his head feverishly, “no, that’s not it at all—”

“then why do you keep rejecting me?” you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest. you probably look and sound desperate, but the truth is you were. the first few times could be deemed funny, but there’s so much rejection a girl can take before it starts to become an insecurity. “why do you keep pushing me away? am i that unattractive to you?”

you’d never seen him look so panicked in his life. had it been under any other circumstance, you woulda laughed at the way his pupils blew widely and how his hands started waving all over the place, “no! jesus, are you kidding me— have you seen yourself? what sane man would think that—”

“what sane man wouldn’t want sex?” you bite back, and he’s taken aback. you see it in the way the words in his mouth die down, the way his body stills just slightly, the way his arms drop to his sides. you continue, “what sane man wouldn’t want head? what sane man solely focuses on pleasing a woman and not himself—”

“hey,” gojo frowns. “any sane man would aim to please his partner first and foremost.”

“well usually sane men accept the favour when offered back to them!” you counter, and once more, gojo was cornered into the wall. he remained quiet, an ideaology uncharacteristic to a man like himself, and waited for you to get it off your chest.

“it’s just. . .” you sigh, licking your lips. and he watches you, intently. you’re almost too embarrassed to say it, but enough was enough. “i just don’t get it! i’m thinking it’s because i’m unattractive to you but—”

“i’ve literally came in my pants from eating you out.” he interrupts, raising an eyebrow. your face deadpans as does his. he’s dead serious too. oh that bastard, “multiple times, may i add. try again.”

“then it has to be you think i’m dirty.” you assume, and he tilts his head to the side with an expression that screams ��seriously’. your annoyance builds up the more he looks at you like you’re crazy for him denying you of his pleasure. “i can assure you i’m clean— i’m not some fucking whore.”

“and i can assure you that thought has never once crossed my mind.” gojo snorts, body language now looser. his hands sit in the pockets of his sweats, a taunting smile on his lips. “what’s the next excuse?”

“oh that’s rich coming from you,” you sneer, poking your finger at his chest. he snorts again, and you feel like you’re about to lose your mind. “what else could it possibly be? you’re so fucking confusing, toru, i have no idea what goes on in your mind!”

“you, all the time.” gojo shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing. he says it as if you asked him if the sky was blue or if grass was green. “you go through my mind all the time. it’s that simple, really.”

“stop the bullshit, satoru.” you frown, pinching the bridge of your nose. your head was starting to ache, and you’d come for closure on this torment, but of course he had to stretch it out.

“but i’m being so serious?” he tilts his head. “it really is just you. you don’t think i want your lips wrapped around my cock? to feel how tight your pussy would be around me? seriously?”

“then why don’t you let me?!” you sigh exasperatedly, throwing your arms in the air. you didn’t understand this at all— you were both on the same page here, so why didn’t he let you? was he ashamed or something?

he goes quiet again, and you’re contemplating on storming out of his room. you give him a few seconds to collect his thoughts, to decide on whether he wants to finally tell you the truth or find another plausible excuse that would have you drive back home.

there’s this look of embarrassment all over his face, his eyes unable to look at you. he scratches the corner of his mouth, lips tugging into a sheepish smile. “i’m. . . scared. kinda.”

you blink at him. “wait— are you a virgin?”

“no!” he immediately defends himself, and you raise an eyebrow at his sudden eagerness. he waves his hands around again to affirm his statement, “i’m not!”

“so. . . you’re a slut?” you ask instead, and he face palms himself. the nerve he had, to face palm himself when he’s giving you the faintest of clues. what were you supposed to understand from that alone?

“y/nnnn!” he drags out your name childishly, the skin of his cheeks flushed a bright pink. he hides his face in the palms of his hands, as if to cower himself away from this discussion. you think the sight is cute actually— a grown man shy about his sex life. how ironic.

“just spit it out.” you tut and he peels his hands away from his face. your eyes narrow as you wait on his answer, watching him fidget with his fingers and shy his gaze away from you. the wall at your side had to be so damn interesting if he couldn’t hold eye contact with you.

you sigh, “i promise i won’t make fun of you.”

your word alone seems to offer some sort of comfort. his lips part to speak, but it feels like an eternity and a half before words finally come out. “i. . . i don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of you.”

now you’re confused. “whadya mean?”

he grumbles, lips falling into that pout he does whenever he doesn’t get something done his way. there’s a crease in his brows, a frown so deep you’re worried you said something wrong.

“i didn’t want to give you the ick, okay?” gojo finally sputters, the blush on his cheeks now spreading down the base of his neck. he can feel his heartbeat thudding excessively loud against his rib cage, and his hands are starting to get moist.

woah, he must be really embarrassed. but about what? was he insecure about his penis?

“why would you give me the ick, toru?” you speak slowly, not wanting to scare him off. you take a step closer to him when you notice he took one back, resting a gentle hand on his bicep. your thumb rubs at his skin in what you hope is a soothing manner.

his eyes shift from the wall to your gentle touch. his bottom lip quivers and he takes in a big breath, before redirecting his gaze on you.

“because you’re you and i’m me!” he starts off, as if ready to confess everything. you take it as a good sign however. “it’s you we’re talking about— god, you’re so pretty and sexy and kind, and so attractive it fucking hurts— i’ve literally busted to your taste alone! i’m so fucking whipped it’s embarrassing. i literally think about you all the time— in bed, in the car, in the shower— i think about how good you smell and how sweet you taste and how addictive your smile is! all i have to do is think about you and i’m instantly hard— i’m like a fucking dog you trained!”

for once today, you’re left speechless.

“and- and,” he continues, “i had to master self-control. me, satoru gojo, had to learn to hold myself back. do you know how many times i’ve nearly folded? hm? how many times i almost caved in and damn near ripped your clothes off with my teeth? you’ve turned me into an animal! i’ve wanted you for an eternity, but i know myself— i wouldn’t last a second with my dick in your mouth! that’s what i’m scared of, i’m scared of embarrassing myself to you and you’ll run off or something and i’ll end up rotting and dying alone from embarrassment and—”

“okay, okay.” you hold a hand up to cut off his rant. he was starting to babble, and soon he would flow into an inescapable hole of self-wallowing. “i think i get it now.”

he’s breathing heavy, pupils blown wide. his lips are quivering and you can tell he’s really anxious of your answer. you’d never seen him so shaken, as if your next words would make or break his entire world.

well, here goes nothing. “i hooked up with another man.” you think you heart his heart shatter in his chest. his face goes slack as does his body, and he immediately reverts his eyes away from yours.

“oh.”

you realize you could’ve started a bit differently. “it didn’t really go far, because i was so preoccupied thinking about you.” you sigh shakily. “everything felt wrong, even when i tried convincing myself it wasn’t, but i couldn’t help but think of you, even with another man around.”

gojo remains quiet, and you’re not even sure where you’re going with this. what are these feelings you’re feeling?

“listen, i don’t know what that guilt was but i know i never want to feel it again.” your hand proceeds to run at his skin. he hasn’t pushed you off yet, so you’re hoping it’s working. “this whole time i was thinking i was unappealing to you, and you’re afraid of flattering me?”

gojo shoots his head up at that, “flattering you?”

you snort, loving the dumb look on his face. he didn’t have a fucking clue, did he? “do you have any idea what that would do to my ego? knowing i was able to make you nut off of head alone?”

“heyyy, don’t go using it against me!” he whines, pouting. “’s your fault anyway— how is somebody that perfect? i don’t get it, you’re genuinely unreal. i almost don’t like it.”

well he surely knew a way around with his words. you giggle, sliding the hand around his bicep up to the back of his neck. your other arm mimics, as your fingers card through his undercut. you can feel him shuddering beneath your touch, and he instinctively cups at your waist.

“now that i know your reasoning, i’m not gonna pressure you into anything you don’t wanna do.” you stare him up through your lashes. you weren’t sure how you didn’t see it before, but now they everything is clear, you swear you see hearts swimming in his orbs. cute. “but, you wouldn’t scare me off, toru. i can’t believe i’m saying this but i might be stuck with you— you say you’re a trained dog, then what does that make me? thought about you while another man ate me out.”

he frowns at that. oops. “he wasn’t better than me. . . was he?”

“never.” you shake your head, and feel the way his shoulders sag in relief. “and if it makes you feel better, we didn’t kiss and i never gave him a blowjob.”

he’s still pouting, but his nose scrunches in the way he does when he wants you to drown him with attention. when had you start noticing these details? “it does. . . i guess.”

“toruuu, you have to forgive me.” it’s your turn to pout, nails scraping at his scalp as your lashes flutter. you rise to the tip of your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips— lustless. there’s a soft smack that separates both your pair of mouths, and you see the corner of his mouth threaten to twitch into a smile. his hold on your waist tightens and pulls you in closer. “want me to show you just how sorry am i?”

“mhm,” he mumbles, eyes stuck on the plumpness of your lips. he wants them back on his, and that’s exactly what he does, leaning forward to seal another chaste kiss. when he does pull away, it’s just slightly, tips of your noses still grazing one another. he bumps noses with yours, “prove it t’me.”

your cheeks feel like they’ll split with how widely you’re smiling, but that ends as soon as it came, when he lunges forward to kiss you again.

his jaw slacks as he ravishes your lips, tongues sloshing as he releases pretty moans into your mouth. you fed him everywhere— his tongue dancing at the roof of your mouth, his hands caressing your ass, the rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest vibrating against your own.

you walk forwards, lips never leaving his, as his steps move backwards. he tastes as sweet as always, a faint cherry flavour resting on his taste buds. soon enough he’s laid on his back on his own bed with you hovering him, your thighs resting at his sides. his hands grip at the meat on your legs.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good,” you pull away from his lips and trail your hand down his torso, all the way to his briefs’ waistband. “you’ve never had anything like it.” surely enough, he’s harder than he’s ever been, the outline of his cock seeping through the material of his pants. your hand slides lower to cup at the bulge, feeling up on his dick through your fingers, and he whines into your mouth, hips thrusting up into your touch.

“p-please, i’m— oh fuckkk,” he begs, moans croaking out of his throat as you slip your hand into his underwear. your touches are light, wanting to tease him as you collect endless beads of pre cum at the tip of your fingers. his hips never cease to buck into your palm, desperate for more.

“enough waiting, hm?” you tug down at his undergarments, and immediately get slapped in the face. his dick is nothing to scoff at— you’d only seen and felt it through the material of his pants, but now that it was bare and right before your eyes? his length had nothing on your imagination. with a pretty pink mushroom tip, vein throbbing on the underside, heavy balls and a cute curve to the left, his dick undoubtedly had your mouth watering.

he’s twitching sans cease, as if it had a mind of its own.

“can’t believe you were holding out me, toru,” you lick your lips, laying flat on your own stomach, between his legs. he’s pushed up on his elbows, watching as you stroke his cock languidly. “you’re so mean.” your fists tightens at the top of his cock, thumb rubbing at his oozing slit, before loosening your hold as you lower to the base.

he gulps, hands scrunching at the duvets beneath him. you’re giving him these eyes, and your fleeting touches on his dick will surely have him lose his mind. “stop teasing meee, i’ll—nghh!” you kiss the tip of his cock,

and in the blink of an eye, he cums. your eyes shut as ropes of hot, white cum shoot at your face, from all different kinds of directions. he cums, and it’s a lot. it almost feels never ending, as does his cries. his back arches and his hips hump the air, cock twitching uncontrollably as it erupts.

“oh nooo— shit, ngh, fuck— can’t help it!” veins bulge in his forearm with how intensely he’s gripping onto the covers. you think it’s rather adorable, how easily overwhelmed he gets.

it takes a lifetime for his high to come down. and through it all, you’re pumping at his cock, milking him for what he has to offer. silently of course, you’re not even sure he’d be able to hear anything you have to say with how vocal he is.

when it all becomes too much, he starts shivering from oversensitivity, and his cock jumps weakly. you pull your hand away, and his dick falls onto his lower stomach. he’s breathing heavily, head thrown back as you clean the cum off your face. you pop a finger in your mouth, he tastes sweet. “hm.”

“just,” gojo pauses, taking another deep breath in. the ceiling must be real interesting for him. “just go on with it. but don’t say i didn’t tell you so.”

you smirk, now popping the finger out of your mouth with a wet plop! “you really weren’t kidding.”

hmm can anybody guess who the “mystery man” you hooked up with is ? 🌚

[innerfare]

Teasing or Overstimulating - Part 3

Summary: Do they tease you or overstimulate you?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Crocodile

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, sex toys, Big Dick Beckman, low-key Daddy Shanks, mean dom Crocodile

——— 

Shanks: 

He claims overstimulation is his love language and he’s doing you a favor by working you over every chance he gets, but it’s actually selfish- he’s not just showing you he loves you, he’s satisfying himself, his own desire to see your chest heaving and legs shaking and pretty pussy flushed from his abuse. 

“Come on, love, open wide for me. I’m just trying to help you out. There you go, that’s my girl. Now, hold still.”  

Most mornings, you find him with his face between your legs, his hot tongue worming its way into your tight hole (still aching from being pounded with his cock the night before); if your inner thighs are chafed from his stubble, he’ll happily bend you over and lap at your cunt from behind, smacking your ass when he wants to hear you yelp and whine, never content until you cum at least once or twice. And that’s just in the morning. 

Plenty of afternoons, he’ll kidnap you to jam his fingers in your cunt and thumb your clit, his mouth never leaving your sore nipples. On particularly slow days, he’ll tie you up and draw several orgasms out of you with a vibrator, maybe letting you suck his cock. He doesn’t fuck you until nighttime, though, and by the time he does, you’re absolutely aching, but it just feels so good you’re begging him not to stop, which he never will.  

Beckman: 

He doesn’t even have to try overstimulating you in order to do it. He’s a big man with an ever bigger cock and balls, and warming you up takes work, usually an orgasm or two. On top of that, he’s a man who enjoys taking his time; he could spend half the night just kissing you and sucking on your pretty little nipples. 

“I know your nipples are sore, but daddy needs to get you ready for his big cock. Just take a little more. I know you can do it.” 

By the time you have a thin sheen of sweat on your skin, he’s only just pulling out his throbbing cock, and he tends to last a good while, so you’d better be prepared to lose feeling in your legs. Gentle dom that he is, though, he doesn’t just fuck you into the mattress but rather talks you through it, telling you that you’re doing such a good job for him and that he just knows you can take a little more before daddy cums inside you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it. Deep breaths. You can do it.” 

And if he really wants to overstimulate you, he’ll hold a vibrator to your clit while he snaps his hips into yours, the stretch of his big cock and clench of your tight cunt so overwhelming for you he’s forced to clamp a hand over your mouth before the crew hears (as if they haven’t already). 

Crocodile: 

He doesn’t think of it as teasing, per se, just giving you something to focus on while he’s busy, needy little thing that you are, or else making you work for his cock. 

“Just shut up and try not to cum. I’m busy.” 

He’s not opposed to thumbing your clit, but he often needs his one hand for things more important, so he prefers sex toys to get the job done. Sometimes, he’ll hold you in his lap and make you press a vibrator to your clit while he works at his desk, grabbing hold of your wrist and pulling it back when he feels you start to tense up because he doesn’t think you deserve an orgasm yet. Other times, he’ll tie you up in his bed and leave a remote control vibrator between your legs while he sits back, smokes a cigar, and enjoys the view, switching the vibrator off when you start to whine. 

“Listen to you begging. You’re making a fool out of yourself, you know. This is why you don’t get to decide when to cum. You’re clearly not capable of making those sorts of decisions for yourself.” 

On a few occasions, he’s made you sit on his desk and finger yourself, telling you off for doing it wrong and being such a needy little slut the entire time. He’s definitely guilty of not even letting you cum when he finally shoves his big cock into you, and especially of holding out his hand and making you thank him while you do all the work of grinding your aching cunt against his thick fingers. 

One thing that doesn’t feature in his teasing, though, is oral. On the late nights or very early mornings he climbs into bed and decides he’d like to lick your sweet pussy, he usually ends up overstimulating you because he gets so lost in the taste of your creamy cunt and the sound of you whining and whimpering for his tongue. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[gingersxng]

Keep Quiet

Pairing: f!reader x Yunho

Notes: sub!reader, dom!yunho, nipple play, light pain, teasing, fingering, kissing, finger sucking, cum eating, pet name (doll), dirty talk, overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t), Yunho has a big dick. maybe forgot something!

Words: 668

okay listen,

you’re in Yunhos room putting some clothes on after the refreshing shower you just took. you’re sitting on the floor in just your panties and searching through your jewellery box for something nice to wear.

you suddenly feel a pair of cold hands groping your breasts making you jump. you look up and meet the brown glittering eyes of your boyfriend, he gives you a smile.

you’re about to say something but instead of words a small moan leaves your lips. Yunho’s rolling your nipples in between his fingers slow and sensual, your back arches. he’s movements gets faster and more painful which makes it harder for you to keep quiet. giving you kisses along your neck Yunho stops at your ear and shushes you since the other members are home too.

when he’s been torturing you for a while stimulating your now red and sore nipples, he slowly drags his large palms down your stomach and stops when he reaches your pussy. you watch in pain biting your lip how his hand is resting on your cunt. Yunho gives you a kiss on your head and he stays in that position while his hand slowly begins to pull your panties to the side revealing your soaked swollen pussy. low hums vibrates on top of your head coming from Yunho as he draws small circles on your clit.

he slides his two fingers through your folds a couple of times making your stomach flex every time he repeats it. you’re resting your back against Yunhos chest and breathing heavy trying your best to hold yourself together but it was damn hard when you were being touched by the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

“so good for me doll”

he finally slides his long pretty fingers into your tight hole and leaves his thumb on your clit putting pressure on it while he curve his others hitting your g spot. a high pitched moan flies out and he’s fast to cover your mouth with his other hand.

“shhh, don’t want anyone to hear right”

“your tight little pussy taking my fingers so well”

you’re sweating down your back and between your tits, something your busy boyfriend loved to see. he has you bucking up against his fingers and he adds a third since you’re taking him so well and good girls deserves the best.

Yunho speeds up his thrusts and removes his hand from your mouth and replaces it with his own mouth, your tongues fighting each other. the empty hand takes a hold of a nipple and flicking it in a matching pace with his fingers that fucks you.

Yunhos actions makes your legs shake and you almost scream into his mouth, a familiar feeling grows in your abdomen and you’re about to cum. when he sees you’re close he stops. he’s pulling out his soaked fingers and puts them on your lips, he hooks his fingers on your bottom teeth and you whine.

you suck on his digits until they’re cleaned up and squeezes your shoulders leaning in to your ear.

“what a good tiny girl you’ve been and only for me huh?” you moan in response.

he’s once again back to placing wet sloppy kisses on your shoulders while he occupies both your nipples with his magic fingers. pinching them and tugging on them is getting you wetter and wetter and you’ll cum any second now if he continues. you squirm in his arms as you feel how your cum is seeping out your pussy and onto the red rug beneath you.

while you’re catching your breath you hear Yunho unbuckle his belt and stands up.

“that was just the warm up doll”

he then takes a hold of you and lifts you up and placing you on all fours on his bed. he places his leaking cock against your entrance, you shiver at the overstimulation that sneaks up on you as he enters.

“I’ll go harder with every noise you make”

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 32

MASTAPOST

Samson S. Skulker. Wealthy real estate owner, noted trophy hunter.  Been on safaris in Botswana, Indonesia, India, and other countries taking big game. Guy hunted just about everything. Elephants, rhinos, tigers, elk, only to come to Elmerton Bay, just an hour away by boat from Amity Island.

It didn’t take two brain cells to figure out why. The better question was why Phantom tried to point webbed fingers at him as to the whereabouts of Danny Fenton, a move that was transparently (goddammit Dick and your puns) a lie, according to Bruce. Tim Drake slipped into the man’s more private records without even trying.

Of course, getting the data out and parsing what it meant were two very different things. But he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing. Skulker did make cursory attempts at hiding his electronic paper trail, but cursory was absolutely not enough to keep 13-year-old Tim out, let alone his current self.

Firstly, the man absolutely hunted more exotic, more illegal creatures. That much was clear. Borrowing some of Barbara’s programmes, Tim found the man travelling to much more remote countries. His little vacations coincided with missing persons reports around the same time.

Missing metas, to be exact. Each person with a power set dangerous to themselves and others. Each person having disappeared without a trace and then never to be found again. The picture Tim was building was getting grimmer.

Secondly, the man was buying parts. Robotics parts, to be exact. Engines, weapons systems, hydraulics. Many of them sourced from Vladco, the company founded by Vlad Masters, an old college friend of Jack and Maddie Fenton, who were the parents to the missing teenager of Tim’s current case.

But Danny Fenton did not have the meta-gene, a fact Tim confirmed after yet another concerning breach of privacy. He filed that detail away for later investigating.

Tim pressed a key, letting his programmes run while he got a coffee. Oh sweet delicious coffee. He had once distilled almost pure caffeine into a syrup. It was the most horrible thing he’d tasted in his life, but the buzz kept him up all night, that was until his heart started giving out. That was less enjoyable.

What was also less enjoyable was the revving motorcycle heading into the Batcave. Two motorcycles, in fact. Just as Tim’s afternoon was looking to be peaceful and quiet.

“Don’t fucking give me that, Dickwing!” Jason called out.

“I’m fine, Jay, maybe you need to stop hovering over me like some mama bear.” Dick put down his helmet with maybe a little too much force.

Jason hopped off his own bike. “That’s bullshit and even Timbit knows it.”

Tim shrunk into the Batcomputer’s chair. He so did not want to be a part of this. He just waited for his older brothers to carry their argument out of earshot, like they had been doing regularly now. The men traded strong words with every footstep across the cave.

“Maybe I’m just a little high strung. It’s honestly nothing.”

“You literally cannot fucking say that when I saw you going full-ass Punisher five minutes ago. Like the traffickers yesterday were one thing. Those guys suck. This dude was literally just a mugger. Are you going out of your fucking mind?”

“Jason, I thought you were supposed to be the one who’s all for going full Punisher style?”

Jason groaned loudly, and then transitioned into a frustrated scream. “Do you even hear yourself?!”

The changing room door slammed shut.

That was the second argument in the last two days. If you told Tim that Mr Heads-in-a-Duffle would be lecturing the Golden Child over excessive force, he’d start working on a machine to send you back to the topsy-turvy alternate dimension you’d come from, but apparently his dimension was the topsy-turvy one the whole time. And he hated it.

Turns out Dick inherited more from Bruce than he liked to admit, including his awful coping mechanisms. And to be honest, he was way too tired to even begin to breach this subject.

He should be happy that his literal attempted murderer was going to be out of his hair for a good while, maybe even forever. But even entertaining the thought made him sick enough to avoid the topic in his head for hours, only to think about it again, and get himself sick again.

So back to Skulker it was. Joy.

It turned out his new friend Skulker had made himself a fucking Iron Man rip-off suit, capable of flight, diving, and packed to the gills with fuck-you bazookas, machine guns, and hydroplasm weapons. Hydroplasm guns that he’d sourced from the Fentons themselves, through a long and complicated chain of buyoffs.

And happy day, the man was kind enough to install cameras and microphones, and kept logs from both.

In a surprising twist, it was fiendishly difficult to hack into those logs. Tim was honestly beginning to sweat. He suspected Skulker’s friends at Vladco (namely Vlad Masters, the sleezeball. Tim never liked him at galas and this only cemented his low opinion) had some secrets that they didn’t want out.

No matter, it was only a matter of time. Tim continued typing.

And typing.

And typing.

What the hell was this firewall?! Tim pinched his arm just to make sure this wasn’t a sleep-deprivation hallucination. He could’ve sworn he’d gotten through that layer of security. It was like it was shifting itself to cover up his progress and force him to start over. Almost like it was alive.

Against the thunderous backdrop of his brothers’ clashing voices, Tim set himself on overdrive. If he could just act faster than it could correct itself, then maybe, maybe.

A plain error message informed him of the results long after he’d already seen them. Tim kicked the table for good measure. The only thing he could extract was two frames of video footage. They showed, respectively, a T-shirt and pair of sneakers that matched what one of the missing metas was wearing when they were last seen.

Was it damning evidence? Absolutely. But it also proved to him absolutely nothing that he wasn’t already suspecting, nothing that could point him in a new direction. Still, it made his stomach churn. He hoped those people would get a better second chance beyond the grave.

Maybe the fact that the data was this well-hidden at all proved something.

The locker room door swung open, his brothers in civvies and glaring at each other, trying to appear civil in front of (right behind) Tim, even though they’d literally just been shouting at each other ten minutes ago.

“Timmy!” Dick called out. “How long have you been awake?”

Tim gestured offhanded to his pile of only two used mugs. “Not long enough. I’m still working. Can you take it upstairs please?”

Jason huffed, and stalked off upstairs without a word, probably too disgusted to be in his and Dick’s presence much longer.

Dick clasped his hands. “It’s fine, Tim. Honestly. Jason and I are just having a little, err, disagreement, is all.”

“Hm.” Tim inputted another set of commands. He was starting to see why Bruce liked to say that now. Avoiding painful emotions felt so good. Dick made a pained noise.

“Well, ok. I’m just gonna head back to Bludhaven now. Say hi to Alfred for me! And contact me if you need anything!” And then he sped off.

Tim shook off the awkwardness like old clothes. Thank goodness for some peace and quiet again. Maybe that was why he was working so hard to help Bruce get the demon child back, so he could return to the status quo, and not this. This hell reality where Dick was as emotionally constipated as Bruce and Jason was the one acting as the voice of reason.

The first night when Bruce called home, the entire family was in an uproar. Dick got a pale look on his face, and was halfway about to take the Batplane and go searching for Damian himself, only for Bruce to remind him that they were all still needed in Gotham and Bludhaven, and whatever few leads there were, Bruce would pursue. It was effortlessly logical, but it was clear Dick hated it. He stormed off in a rage that Tim had only seen when Ethiopia was fresh, when he and Bruce were at their lowest.

And Jason? He got this look on his face that he’d never, ever seen before. Tim had laid awake one night just contemplating it for ages.

Actually, no. He had seen it once before. It was Tim caught Jason looking into what Bruce was doing in the months after Ethiopia. Tim had subtly hacked the phone camera, and the look Jason had then was the same as how he looked when Damian was declared missing.

Tim shook his head. It was a gruesome image, what Bruce had sent them. Damian’s clothes ripped to shreds. The ground stained with his blood. No body in sight.

A little brother who may or may not be dead, something he may or may not be glad or sick to his stomach about. Brothers who were acting like completely different people, and a monster of a man who had to be connected somehow.

A ping appeared in the corner of the screen. The government siren hunting branch appearing in Panama?

Sam Manson sat up in her bed, her body finding some way to release the dread and tension. She looked on at her phone in horror and macabre fascination in equal parts.

This had Danny written all over it. She didn’t even need to hear the anchor confirming it to know.

On the one hand, she really wanted to applaud him for fucking them up this bad. The comment section was ripping into the GiW for their actions in Panama, treating the country like it was some vassal state they could romp around in. She personally screenshotted the fucking beautiful mass car crash the GiW had gotten into trying to catch him, and saved it into her favourites folder.

On the other hand, she really wanted to slap him for fucking up this bad. This could’ve easily gone wrong. Danny what were you thinking?! They could’ve got him that time!

And finally, she wanted to yell in frustration, because they had a radio communicator there. Goddammit! If only Tucker had known, they he could’ve hacked in and they could’ve talked to their best friend and actually got an update on what the fuck was going on.

And finally, finally for real, she was so glad, because the GiW would’ve announced it on every news channel if they’d actually managed to catch him. Thank fucking goodness.

Ugh, this headache. She really needed to lie down again.

Knock, knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

Dread pooled in her stomach. “Come in,” she said, resigned to her fate.

Grandma Ida, the person she least wanted to see right now, opened the door. She was the kind of woman who never carried herself very seriously, except for in matters of sorcery, and especially when warning Sam on the dangers of her craft. Dangers that Sam had ignored in order to go all out. Now she marched into Sam’s bedroom like an executioner.

Grandma stood at the foot of Sam’s bed, scanning her closely. “I knew I smelled tinged blood.” She went up to the side, and palmed Sam’s forehead. Her hand was freezing cold to the touch. “You should’ve called me immediately.”

Sam averted her eyes. She should’ve, but she didn’t.

Her parents never failed to get a rise out of her; she rejected their notions of female beauty and social etiquette in every way, their attempts to hook her up with Tim Drake-Wayne, then Damian Wayne, and she hadn’t cowed to them or submitted since she was ten. But with Grandma’s withering disapproval, she couldn’t feel more like a child if she tried.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“I warned you many times of the risks, Sammy. You’re lucky to be here, and not in the hospital or worse.”

“I know.”

Sam moved to lie on her side, facing away from Granny. Granny had questioned her decision to fight alongside Danny, but allowed it under the condition that she did so safely, and turning your body into a popping water balloon, but with blood, was so not the definition of safe.

And Danny’s fate was still in question regardless. He wasn’t able to cross Panama, and who knows what Damian was doing. What if it was all for naught?

A hand was put on her shoulder. “Did you accomplish what you were set out to do?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“And was it worth it?” Yes. Absolutely yes. Danny bled every day for this god-forsaken town of ingrates. He’d bled for her mistake six months ago.

Granny seemed to understand her feelings. She nodded, and ruffled Sam’s hair, and the tension in Sam’s body drained away.

“Then I trust your judgement. Can you sit up? I’ve brought some more medicine for you.”

Sam pushed herself against the bunched-up pillows at the headboard. Her head spun from the motion, but she was never one to let her body’s limits confine her. “Thank you, Bubbe. I love you.”

Granny passed her a brew of herbal medicine, dozens of dried spices and mushrooms brewed together into a blackened sludge that felt like knives into your tongue, but which never failed to get her feeling better. It was a leg up from what big pharma tried to pedal for ten-fold the price.

Sam lifted up the mug to her face. And, oh yeah. Nothing like bitter liquid pain to help with a migraine. She let the hot tea flow over her taste buds, pathing them in cinnamon, star anise and a million other things.

She finished her tea in one satisfying gulp, running her tongue over her teeth and scratching out the lingering aftertaste. As she put the mug down, it revealed Grandma’s face hovering right in front of her. Sam yelped in shock. “Bubbe! You gave me a heart attack!”

Bubbe smiled devilishly. “So what did you do?”

Sam’s mouth gaped open. Leave it to her Grandma to almost kill her from emotional whiplash.

“Now come on, this is a monumental moment for a budding young sorceress like yourself. Why, when I was twenty-two, I used to run with some heroic types myself. We had all sorts of hijinks together.” Bubbe cackled and clasped her hands, eyes going wispy. “My friends got a heart attack when I pulled off my own hare-brained scheme to topple the evil overlord of the week’s central command. Hah!”

“What?!” Then Sam coughed, and lowered her volume. “What do you mean ‘heroic types.’ You just told me you went to some stuffy academy and eloped.”

Bubbe shrugged. “I did do that. Must have forgotten the extra stuff.”

Sam blinked.

She moved to sit beside Sam on the bed. “We got up to a lot of fun back in the day, and a lot of pain too. I did what I did to protect those I cared for. Did you, bubbeleh?”

She held Sam’s hand with a look that reminded her just how many years Grandma had lived, and how many adventures or stories she had yet to tell, how much heartache she’d had to endure to become the woman she was now. “I projected an illusion all the way off the coast of Panama. It hurt like nothing else in my entire life, but…” She paused. “We got Phantom out. He’s safe now, I think.”

Grandma Ida nodded solemnly, the kind of understanding that Sam craved from her parents every waking moment of her teenage career.

“I don’t want this to be a regular occurrence, ok?”

“Yes, I promise. This was an extreme circumstance.”

“Good. Now, are you well enough for some meditation? It would do well to keep your soul energy flowing.”

Ok, but you have to tell me what you got up to back in the day.”

Granny chuckled, and agreed to it. Sam kicked off her covers, letting her legs get some fresh air. She was probably pushing it, but she needed to recover as quickly as possible. Who knew when she would be needed again?

Maddie Fenton kneeled in the sand. Her hands clamped down on her gun. Her knees shook. Tears prickled in her goggles.

Her baby was right there. He was so close. So fucking close. She could almost touch him, even now.

And he ran away from her. And at first her heart shattered into a million pieces, just like it had when he’d come home after his first disappearance and flinched when she hugged him.

Then she realised. He was protecting her. Some metal menace was shooting at her defenseless son like it was some kind of sick game. The monster of a man had laid fucking landmines on a public beach.

It should’ve been her protecting him.

Bruce Wayne returned to her side, empty handed. They’d scoured this entire beach. Danny couldn’t have gone far, she had thought, only for their search to turn up with nothing.

That left only one option. That her enemy doubled back after fleeing, and snatched Danny up without either her or Bruce noticing. Maddie’s heart sank. She should’ve aimed for the head.

A name pinged in her mind. Phantom had whispered it to her. Skulker.

With nary but nod, she and Bruce mounted their jet skis again.

[smallestapplin]

Always busy

MDNI! Please, anyone under 18 do not interact, it makes me uncomfortable if and when you do.

🔞cw : afab!reader with neutral terms, pussy slapping, cock warming.🔞

I’ve had Ayato on the brain, and hardly anyone write him so-

🔞18+ only!🔞

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Ayato is a fairly busy man, he hardly has time for most things that aren’t work-related, you knew that walking into this relationship, you knew you’d get that sweetness mostly at night.

And you were always fine with that, knowing he had work to do.

But every once in a blue moon, you get so needy for him. Missing his warm hands on your body, missing his soothing voice in your ear taunting you.

You just want your husband, is that so much to ask Maybe that’s why you went to bother him in his office.

He’s always happy to see you, but those eyes of his always see right through you, knowing exactly why you’re here.

And it’s exactly how you ended up naked on his lap, your back against his chest leaning against him as you pant. It’s been so long since you’ve had his cock inside you, but he just won’t move.

“Stay still dearest, I can’t focus if you keep squirming like that.”

Easier said than done.

You whimper, laying your head back against his shoulder. His office filled with the sounds of his pen against paper, and your soft whines.

Ayato can feel your pussy squeezing his cock, he knows just how much you want him to bend you over his desk and fuck you, but these reports won’t write themselves.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been behaving, how long you’ve sat there like a good spouse keeping his cock warm. With each throb of his dick, your mind clouds with lust, the desire for more that he just won’t give you.

It’s probably been hours, you’re sure of that, but he won’t move.

Subtly you roll your hips, grinding down on him just to get an ounce of pleasure.

His gloved hand comes down, giving your clit a swift slap, your slick splatters with the harsh smack. You tense up, your back arching as you squeal.

“What a naughty little pet, surely I told you to behave.”

“M-m’sorry! I’m sorry! P-please, I’ll be good.”

You cry again as he lands another slap to your pulsing nub, your hips back into his hand trying to get more of the pleasurable pain.

Ayato sighs, bringing his hand up to his face letting you watch him lick his glove clean. He trembles at the taste, you’re by far his favorite meal.

“You taste as divine as ever.”

You bite your lip, your eyes locked onto the spit dripping from his fingers. Ayato chuckles at your need but surprises you by shoving his drool-covered fingers into your mouth.

You let out a muffled squeak as his middle and ring finger pressed against your tongue, but you don’t hesitate to start sucking and licking them clean.

“My, you truly are such a needy thing, I didn’t even have to tell you what to do. Stay like this while I finish these and I might give you a nice reward.”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as it dawns on you anyone could walk in and see your naked body onto a composed commissioner.

But you find the thought excites you.

You want everyone to know you belong to Ayato.

[pankowperfection]

Lessons Learned (Chapter 5)

Summary: Your first time together comes with changes to your relationship

Warnings: smut, sexting, illicit photos, riding, 18+

Rudy’s POV

God, what is happening to me? No matter what I’m doing, my mind wanders off to y/n. She kept surprising me at every turn. Her marks were actually improving on my exams without any interference from me, not to mention how she literally almost sucked my damn soul out of my cock. We’d exchanged numbers after our last “session”, against my better judgment , but man was I glad now. 

She must’ve been thinking about me too, texting me a photo of her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, the rest of her face cropped out. 

“Hi pretty girl, whatcha doing?”

“Wishing you were here…… I have a surprise for you.”

The next message almost makes me drop my phone. She’s propped up against the pillows in her bed, once again only her body within the frame. Her lush curves are barely concealed beneath fucking red lace. I can see the outlines of her nipples, instantly making my dick hard in my sweatpants. 

My eyes travel down her torso and fuck me, this piece of lingerie was crotchless. I can literally see the wetness on her pussy in the light from her lamp. 

“Do you like it?” Her next message pops up, always so unsure of herself.

“Like it? I fucking love it. Look what you did.” 

I reply with a photo of the tent in my lap, imagining the hungry look on her face when she sees what she’s doing to me. 

She’s apparently out for blood tonight, the final photo she sends hot enough to almost make me cum in my pants.

“Can’t wait to feel you inside of me, how sore I’ll be after you stretch me out.” She moved the phone down her body, taking a close up shot of her lower lips spread wide, showcasing her soaking entrance. Her clit is swollen and just begging for my attention, making me groan out loud.

Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. 

“I can’t wait either sweetheart. Now go to sleep before you get into trouble.”

She doesn’t reply again, my mind now occupied with images of her in every position while I fucked her senseless. I need a cold shower.

Y/N’s POV

You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, you weren’t a virgin after all. Maybe because it would be your first time with Rudy. You’d once again followed his instructions, red lingerie with matching red heels concealed only by your trenchcoat. As you raise your hand to knock the door opens in front of you, making you jump slightly. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Was just checking to see if the coast was clear.” Your stomach somersaults at the sight of him, his eyes alight with excitement and his adorable dimples appearing on his cheeks as he gives you his megawatt smile. He quickly ushers you inside, shutting and locking the door before going to take a seat on the couch. 

You walk over to the center of the room, stopping directly in front of him before giving him your sexiest smile. “Looks like you listened again baby. Let me see what’s under that coat.” His confidence is sexy, fire swirling low in your core at the sight of him alone. His eyes darken as they rake up over your body, eager to see you bare before him.

You have his full attention as you untie the belt at your waist, slowly opening each side of your coat. His eyes widen at the view as you drop the garment to the floor, doing a slow twirl so he can see your body from every angle.

“God you’re so sexy. Such a good girl. Come here.” He pats his lap and you saunter over to him, adding an extra sway to your hips that he can’t help but marvel at. 

You crawl over his lap on your knees, resting your hands on the back of the couch while his slide up your back. His semi-hard cock rubs perfectly against your clit as you settle, making your eyes fall shut and a soft moan fall from your lips.

Suddenly his hands are in your hair, angling your face to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. You unconsciously grind down on his cock, your moans being swallowed by each other as your tongues fight for dominance. 

He pulls away first, forcing your head to tilt backwards so he can mark your neck with his teeth. “Oh professor, mmm.” Your nails dig into his shoulders, pleasure quickly overtaking your system.

Open mouthed kisses trail down your neck to your breasts, his strong hands quickly freeing them from the material before his mouth wraps around your bud. Your breath catches in your throat when he softly bites down, jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your clit. 

“Look at you. You’re so wet you’re staining my pants.” Your eyes drop between your bodies, seeing he’s right. Your bare pussy has left a giant wet spot right on the fly of his slacks. You start to apologize but he stops you with a tight grip to your throat that makes your heart thump erratically. 

“I like it. I love seeing how much I affect you. Now tell me honestly, have you ever done this before?” His hands slide to your hips, helping to guide you while you rock over his erection. 

“Sex? Yes but not like this. College guys just want to jackhammer you until they cum then leave.” 

A hint of anger appears in his eyes, annoyed at the fact that so many guys could not realize the treasure they had in their hands. 

“Well, consider this another lesson then. I’ll help you get started and then I want you to ride me until you cum. Use me however you want.” 

He lifts you softly from his lap, quickly stripping out of all his clothes before returning to his previous spot. You anxiously hover over his length, wondering how all of it was actually going to fit inside you. He was definitely the biggest you’d seen, long and the perfect amount of thickness to leave you aching for more. 

He wraps his hand around his cock, dragging it slowly back and forth through your folds to collect your wetness. When he’s satisfied he lines up with your entrance, gently guiding just the tip inside. You both cry out, the feeling of being joined together absolutely euphoric.

“Shit, baby we’ve gotta be quiet,” he warns you and himself, desperately holding on to his control so he doesn’t flip you over and fuck you senseless. Tonight was about you and your pleasure.

“I’m not sure I can be quiet.” You start to sink down slowly, each inch disappearing inside you only making you want to scream more. You bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, copper taste spreading through your mouth. He sees your struggle, both hands cupping your face to pull you in for another searing kiss. 

“Do whatever feels good to you y/n. I’ll keep you quiet, don’t worry.” He places one hand over your mouth, effectively shutting you up as you start to rock forwards and backwards over him. He’s so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. 

Your hands slide to his shoulders, using him for leverage as you start to bounce up and down. His free hand gropes your breasts, rolling each nipple until they’re stiff and sensitive. As his fingers skate down your body you can’t help but tremble. The first brush over your clit almost makes you cum on the spot. 

You start to bounce harder, watching as Rudy’s features transform from his pleasure. He’s trying hard to contain his own sounds, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He starts meeting your thrusts, pushing up into you and making your head spin. A few moments later you cum hard, scream muffled by his hand as he resorts to sliding your body up and down his cock to get you through it.

“God y/n, you’re incredible.” He gives you your favorite smile, brushing the sweaty strands of hair back from your forehead. 

“You’re pretty incredible yourself Rudy.” 

The warmth in his eyes makes you blush, quickly looking away. 

“Don’t feel pressured, and you can totally say no. But, would you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

You fake a gasp, hand covering your heart that has started to beat harder in your chest.

“Professor, are you asking me out on a date?”

He grins, leaning in to quickly peck you on the lips.

“Yes y/n, I am. What do you think?”

“I’d love to.”

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @paradisehamilton @ailee-celeste @pankhoeforlife @outerbankspov @houseofperfecttaste @drewbooooo @maybankslover @maybanks-luver @blueicequeen19 @toystory2wasjustokay @onmykneesforrafe @penny4yourthoughts @maddie-routledge @ilovetheavenger143

[jorban-ederble]

This is gonna look crazy against my wall of reposts or whatever but I don’t care, I wanna talk to… SOMEONE about this but I don’t wanna talk to my friends about it. Besides, it’s like… 4-7 AM for them right now.

(TW: suicidal thoughts, transphobia)

(Before we get into this, if you’d like to skip it, I understand. Please have this little fact before you go or continue. During one of Alice In Chains’ shows, a guy in the crowd was pissing the guys off. Layne was kinda fucking around with him in response, and I think shortly thereafter, they played Man In The Box, which prompted Jerry to change the lyrics to “Can you suck my dick?” instead of “Can you sew them shut?” which I find very funny, and I always think about it whenever I hear that song now.)

Like, I’m happy for them and what they’re doing, don’t get me wrong. One is moving out with some friends, two’ve actually just gotten hired at a new job, and one’s now on meds and getting referrals for top surgery. But… I just feel so stuck. I feel so far behind from them, I feel like I’m stuck at 12. Hell, I wrote some lyrics about it or whatever, I feel stuck, I’ve felt stuck for a while. I want to move out of my house so bad, but I don’t have a job yet. I need to do more jobs with my mentor, probably start going through state to get the hours actually recognized so I have better chances of proving I’ve done this before and won’t need so much help when I’m hired, but I also wish my mentor wasn’t a fucking trumpie because I know he probably would either out me to my parents or wouldn’t support me or call me by my preferred name and even he/him when we actually go and do jobs together.

I want to start T so bad, I want to hear my name on the daily from my parents, but my mom doesn’t accept me and my dad fucking forgot because he’s a fucking severe alcoholic and he can’t fucking remember shit. We were all supposed to go to the theatre last weekend but he fucking forgot that. So he more than likely forgot I’m trans because I haven’t talked about it again since I came out (about mid-2022) and again, he acts like a fucking dementia patient. I just wish they could open their fucking eyes for once and hear my side of things, because I tried to come out to my mom and she didn’t fucking listen, she just spewed her shit about “how she doesn’t understand how someone can alter their body like that” or “why can’t I live as a woman for once?” Mom, I’ve lived as a woman my whole life up until 2020 and I didn’t care for it then, don’t care for it now. Maybe you’d understand it if you actually listened to REAL trans people, the ONE YOU LIVE WITH, rather than the pick-me detransitioners (I’m sorry I love and support anyone who’s detransitioned and ISN’T using it against the community. I love you, if you’re someone like that who’s reading this) and the fuckin’ politicians who regurgitate the same shit over and over about us. The lies, the hate… all of it. I’ve thought about showing my scars, showing how bad I’ve felt about myself before, how bad I feel that I’m their child - hell, their son if it’s easier for them - but I don’t think that’d do shit, honestly.

I keep wishing so badly I had the balls to speak up again. What happened to the kid from 5 years ago? When they wanted to be called a simple nickname, and came out straight up acting like they were gonna get that, even if they ended the statement with a “please”. Where’d they go, sometimes I wonder. Now I just lay down and take whatever without having the guts to cut them or anyone else off and say “no, I’m Layne/Armani, and it’s not changing. It’s final.” I just take it and walk on saying “Fine, sure, I’m that. I’ll be that for you.” Or whatever the fuck. When did I become such a doormat?

I keep wishing I could go to therapy, go on meds, go get the help I need. Because I need it bad. I feel like I’m not gonna fucking make it to 30, let alone 25. I’ve asked before, twice, and every time I didn’t get a thing. Now I just express sometimes, hidden behind jokes most of the time, that I am suicidal. Passively, sure… or they’re just intrusive thoughts, but… there are the times where I just think about it, and I can’t get off of it, and there was already one time this year where I really almost made something to kill me. How will that change once I’m on my own? How will that change within the next few years, even?

I’m so jealous of my friends, deeply jealous, that I don’t even know if I feel genuinely happy for them at times. I mean… I do. But do I really? And it makes me feel like such a dickhead of a friend, but I do really wish I could have their kind of families, have their kind of lives, their kind of support and happiness. Just for one fucking day, that’s all I ask. On and off the last few hours I’ve just been going back and forth in my head, grabbing a gun or a knife and either cutting nonlethally or potentially lethally, and I hate it. I wish I didn’t think like this, I wish my brain couldn’t be like this. But I also wish I was happier. I wish I was better, so very better about things.

[valentine-cafe]

(amab male reader, rq/drabble) thinking bout alessio 1311 being purposefully touchy / showy on stage with the other band members during a show just to make you jealous, and maybe it.... backfires a little. because after, he ends up getting ridden til he's breathless and overstimulated, his makeup all messed up with his tears :(( (or maybe he takes control halfway through ... I bet it's hard to keep a man as big as he is restrained without ~anything~ physical...)

. ˚◞♡ 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 1311 alessio / bttm amab!reader ꒱ you just couldn't help yourself, you needed to prove that he was yours again

𖹭. content warnings◞  explicit content . penetrative sex . handjob . sugar-coated degredation . multiple orgasms . jealous sex . 0.6k

𖹭. receipts◞  giiiiiddd this man is just something else when writing smut for him fucking hell

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“d-dios mio, eres. . . -hah - perfecto bebé — mm,”

calloused fingers rub into your soft thighs. switching only to cup your quivering dick as you bounced on his lap for all you’re worth. squeezing him like a vice. reminding him whose ass he comes home to every day.

and oh, he’d remember. with the amount of times he’s creamed you full. the amount of times he’s thrown his head back in ecstasy and ground his hips up into your tight hole. fucking his balls against your pliable flesh as you make him yours again.

“you remember it - mngh. . . remember it now papi? remember wh-who this cock belongs to?”

your slur as fingers flex around his strong jaw and you shove his head back. digging your nails into his olive skin. smearing your wet lips all over his dark lipstick. “s-so hard, ah. i-it’s so hard for me. me.”

sparks of bliss shoot up your skin and your back arches at the squeeze to the base of your cock. alessio cups his hand further and lets you fuck it. urging out strings of your messy cum.

“aww, awww still jealous baby? yeah?” despite his dazed out abyss eyes and slurry tone, he still manages to croon in a way that makes your tummy twist. punctuated only by his rough grab onto your ass. squeezing and driving you down as he fucks up erratically.

his hips are like a piston. harsh. precise. ramming into that one bundle of nerves that make your body curl and your eyes roll back. your riding turns into cross-eyed bucking.

for all you are now is a doll. pretty and limp. bouncing helplessly with every shallow, tempered thrust. whining even more when his lips clam around your nipple.

as though he weren’t doing enough to wring your head in.

“p-papi - papi— p-pappiiii,” is all you can whine. mixing with his own gasps and groans when you clench around him again. milking out another flood of his hot cum. squirting out of your tight rim and down your thighs from the sheer amount.

“o-oh yeah, that’s it. that’s it baby,” alessio grunts in tandem. thumbing your poor pulsing tip to make you join his release.

“don’t worry cariño. know you’re all mine. know this - mnn - cock is all mine. oh I know - I knooowwww. fuck. my possessive lil’ slut.”

he’d let out a breathy chuckle. if only to whine when you grab his shoulders and shove him down. snatching lead from him once more and stuttering your hips frantically. all while you dive down and capture his lips. shoving your tongue into his mouth.

his words weren’t enough. you needed to prove that he was yours and that you were his.

you’d do that by riding him until he’s trembling. sighing and quivering your name like a prayer. sucking on your nipples like a drug. cumming in you like an addiction.

“mine,” you rasp against his ear. tears just as clear in your eyes as you part from yet another messy kiss. with but a string of saliva to connect you both.

“m-mine. . . mine. say it - s-say it papi.”

“y-yours - yours baby - a-all fuckin’ y-yours — fuck.”

his eyes roll back. hips messily and deliriously bucking into yours as he breathes out shakily.

“f-fuck, yeah take one more. just one more. yeaaah th-that’s it. m’fucking slut.”

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. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[derangederensimp]

Attack on Titan One Shot Kinktober

#8 Praising Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader

CW: Slight Mean Dom Levi, Prasing, Tongue kisses, Teasing, hair pulling, ass slapping, oral male receiving, unprotected sex, breeding kink, possessiveness, Creampie.

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“You like when I praise you huh Brat? How about you do something that deserves praising” Levi said, crossing his arms, staring down at you on your knees.

“He’s such an asshole for a short man. Pent up anger for sure” you said aloud, your comrades eyes opened wide as you kept talking, you finally caught on when you looking up to see them gawking at you.

“Fuck, he’s behind me isn’t he?” You said, gritting your teeth before looking back.

“Get off your ass, come to my office. We’ll discuss your punishment for talking shit about your commander. Brat” Levi said. His eyes boring into your skull as you stood up. Following behind him a few steps as you often made the mistake of stepping on the back of his boots.

To Levi it made no sense for you to talk about shortness when you were shorter than him. He begged Erwin to not put you with him but Erwin knew the two of you would eventually get along despite how much the two of you butt heads. To him your constant bickering made it seem like you two were just a married couple.

Levi was 9 years older than you and yet you still called him an old man every chance you got. Even though he was 31 and you 22 you’d act like he was a crotchety old man.

Once getting to his office you plopped yourself onto the chair while he sat at his desk. He stared at you till you finally got uncomfortable “is my punishment you boring me to death” you said. “I like you better when you don’t talk” he responded. “But no, that's not your punishment. I'm just trying to think of what I could do to make you stop disobeying me.” Another moment of painful silence you had enough, standing up and turning your back to him to walk away but before you could grab the doorknob he clutched your wrist “did I say you were free to go?” Furrowing your brows you raised your arms to surrender, taking a seat once again.

Once he sat back down he chuckled to himself which you didn’t find amusing “what is so funny commander shithead” spat. “Oh nothing, just a rumor I heard from another brat. It’s quite funny, you act so cold but really you wish to have your commander's attention and my full attention is on you right now. And yet your still acting like a brat” he watched your eyes widen and cheeks turn pink.

“I see it’s not a rumor then. How cute needing someone else’s praise” Levi said, sitting up more in his chair resting his elbows on his desk.

The next thing you knew you were on your knees before him. “You like when I praise you huh Brat? How about you do something that deserves praising” Levi said, crossing his arms, staring down at you on your knees. The feeling between your legs growing unbearable.

You worked at taking his pants off as he ran his finger through your hair “working so fast you must really want to impress me huh y/n” Levi said. His cock springing from his pants hitting his lower stomach. You giggled to yourself thinking that maybe his height went to his dick instead. He scolded you for laughing but let you continue stroking his cock. Lolling out your tongue you slapped the tip against it and swirled your tongue around it. Levi hissing and grabbing a fistful of your hair “Don’t tease me, brat”

Taking him into your mouth you fit as much as you could inside while You stroked at the rest of him “Your mouth feels amazing f-fuck” Levi groaned. He helped guide your head along his cock. “Come on, you can do better than that” he clicked his tongue.

Hallowing out your cheeks you took him deeper into your mouth humming on his cock before you started to gag. “Good girl” he moaned, sucking him faster drool spilled from the corner of your mouth “you make such a mess, brat” he watched as you you squeezed your thighs and he knew just what that meant but he wasn’t going to give in so easy.

“Get off your knees” he pulled his cock from your mouth. He put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss, he waited for your mouth to part before he stuck his tongue in your mouth. Once he pulled away only a string of saliva stuck to your lips before he turned you and softly nudged you towards his desk making you bend over it “ganna stuff you my cock, maybe then you’ll learn to obey me” Levi said.

He yanked down your pants and panties swiping his finger between your slit and rubbing it onto his cock “your so wet and I haven’t even touched you. Did you get turned in sucking me off brat? Let’s just see how loud you moan on my dick”

Aligning himself with your entrance he put the tip in teasing you with it before he thrusted in and out. He would’ve stayed still and let your body adjust but you moved your ass back on him letting him know to keep going. “F-fuck brat you feel so good” he moaned. “L-levi harder” you cried, he did as you asked for your reward for sucking him so good. He didn’t care how loud your moans got, he was only focused on making you cum now.

He slapped your ass before gripping your hips and slamming you down onto him. “You like my cock?” He asked, all you could do was moan out yes over and over again. He slowed down just a bit so he wouldn’t cum too fast. Both of your moans filled the room with the sound of your bodies slapping against each other. Your cunt squeezed his cock making him hiss at the feeling “you wanna cum? Cum on my dick” He said in between breaths. Your body doing as he demanded, your cunt pulsating on his cock squeezing him so tightly.

His own release soon approaching “Let me fill you up, make everyone know your mine” he cooed into your ear. “H-huh?” You managed to get out, “don’t huh me, use that big brain of yours. What do you think I mean?” Levi said, it finally hitting you what he meant.

“P-please” you said, his pace picking back up, you felt your second orgasm creeping up with his time his cock hit your g spot. All it took was one more thrust for each of you, you came all over his cock while he filled you up fucking his cum into you a white ring forming around the base.

“Good girl” he said pulling out, and pulling your panties back up. “Will you finally listen” he asked. You nodded your head quickly as you got dressed. Once the both of you were dressed he gave a peck on your lips putting his hands on your cheeks and holding your head still. “You’re mine now”

-

Don’t forget to leave a note! Or a comment 🖤

Kinktober Masterlist

Taglist: @yellooaaa , @immindingmyown , @dovas-world , @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn , @ilovestevelacy2228 , @nothisispatrick300 , @chrrybl0ss0m

[mono-moonchilds]

FREAK │JHS

⤑ series: smutty song series (smutty little scenarios based around smutty songs)

⤑ pairing: idol!hoseok x femblack!reader

⤑ genre: smut!! somewhat angsty at the end but not really (y/n just in her feels a little)

⤑ rating: explicit (18+)

⤑ word count: 2.3K

⤑ summary: Freak like me. You want a good girl that does bad things to you. You never been with no one as nasty as me. Spice up your life, come get a freak. Freak like me.

⤑ warnings: public groping, handjobs, finger sucking, light choking, softdom!y/n, subbish!hoseok, face fucking, deep throating, riding, car sex, public sex, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, fingering, nipple sucking, y/n just missed her man a lot.

⤑ Song: Freak by Doja Cat

⤑ A/N: omg thank you for so much interest in the teaser?? i really did not expect it to get that much attention. im a lil nervous now lol but i hope you guys enjoy!!

Sweet. Innocent. Cute.

Is probably how anyone else would have described you if asked.

You liked to put on a show, giving shy smiles, quietly hanging under him when you guys went around his bandmates. You had everyone wrapped around your finger, sucked deep into this fake persona but Hoseok knew the truth.

That while you were sending those innocent smiles you were also underneath the table grasping at his cock, leaning over whispering the filthiest shit into his ear every chance you got. Acting clueless when his members would ask him what was wrong like you weren’t the problem.

"Are you feeling sick honey?”

You questioned him with big wide eyes completely contrasting how in the same exact moment your thumb swiped across his head, massaging the precum that’d escaped into it.

Letting out a choked cough Hoseok nodded his head. He looked over at you, sending a discreet warning look to which you ignored, giving him a gentle smile, before turning your attention back to Jimin who was talking about something that he’d lost track of a while ago.

Hoseok couldn’t focus on anything with the way your soft hand reached down gently squeezing his balls, slowly massaging his length, before going back up to his sensitive tip.

He had to admit, you were a woman of your word.

Last night you’d talked about how once you saw him he wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him. Describing in bold detail what you wanted to do to him, what you wanted him to do to you, Hoseok just never thought it would start here.

With every stroke he felt himself growing closer. With his index finger he tapped on your inner thigh trying to warn you, the last thing Hoseok wanted to do was cum in front of his best friends, but of course you didn’t stop. You just grasped at his dick a bit tighter, giving it long hard strokes just the way he liked it.

“Shit…” Hoseok swore under his breath. The light taps on your thigh changing to a tight hold but you still never looked his way. A whimper left his mouth, eyes fluttering closed and then-

"I think we are going to have to call it a night guys.” Your hand pulled away. Hoseok's eyes popped open another swear word leaving his mouth as he felt his orgasm disappear just as quickly as it came. “Hoseok was complaining about a stomach ache earlier.”

You looked over at him and maybe if your hand hadn’t been down his pants literal seconds ago even Hoseok would’ve believed your little lie.

“Ye-yeah sorry guys. I thought I’d be able to get through the dinner.”

A slew of disappointed groans rang out amongst the table.

“Hope you feel better.” Yoongi said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You both said your goodbyes, everyone telling Hoseok to feel better. Strategically you placed your sweater into his lap before getting up.

“We’ll see you next time guys.” You waved before sliding his hand in your own, directing him away.

With every twist of your hips the little tennis skirt you were wearing would bounce up slightly giving Hoseok a peak at the pale pink lace panties you were wearing.

Hoseok isn’t even able to get a word out before you have him pressed up against the elevator wall as soon as the door closes. With your full breasts pushed up against him, you look up at him, lust sparkling in your dark brown eyes.

‘I missed you so much.” Your hand found its way back into his sweats wrapping around his cock.

“Shit…” Hoseok breathed out. “I can tell.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Of course. You know that.”

And you did, a knowing smile spreading across your face.“I’m so glad you're back. There’s only so much I can do on my own. Your touch,” You planted a kiss on his clothes chest. “Your taste.” Another peck. “You can’t leave me like this.” A pout formed on your lips.

“I know, baby.” With one swift move Hoseok took his foot lightly, kicking your feet apart enough, slotting his thigh between your legs. You breathed out, eyes fluttering closed. “You're so wet.” He could feel the dampness seeping through his clothes.

Ever so slightly you rolled your hips, your glossy lips falling apart. “Missed you so much.” You repeated with a whine.

He watched as you pulled up your skirt, dipping your hand into your panties, pulling out two slick covered fingers. A moan left his lips and without needing to be told Hoseok leaned forward circling his tongue around. A low whimper left your mouth as you watched him. A dark look filled your eyes as ever so slightly you pushed your fingers deeper into his mouth.

The elevator stopped, soon followed by a ding making the two of you pull away. Your quick to smooth down your skirt, seamlessly transforming back into the girl everyone knew you to be. Hoseok wrapped his hand in yours pulling you out of the elevator.

He didn’t want that girl.

Hoseok wanted his girl.

The one with the filthy mouth. The one that stroked his dick under the table despite there being a room full of people. The one that sent him long videos of her bouncing up and down on a fake cock whining about how much she missed him.

His filthy-mouthed little vixen that covered it all with a sweet face.

Your legs could barely keep up as he pulled you through the parking lot. Once you made it to the truck Hoseok unlocked it, nudging you towards the back seats.

“Someone could walk by.”

“You just almost made me cum in front of my entire team. Do you really give a shit?”

A wicked smile flickered across your features.

There was his girl.

Hoseok barely has the car door closed before you're on him. Your hands and lips are everywhere on his skin. A loud moan leaves Hoseok’s mouth as you grind your wet cunt down onto his cock.

“Wanna suck your dick.” You murmur against his lips. “Can I? Can I please suck your dick?”

With the way you were looking at him Hoseok couldn’t say no. (Not that he actually wanted to.)

You giggle excitedly as you move off his lap making Hoseok wonder how someone can be so sexy yet cute at the same time.

With a few tugs Hoseok’s sweats and boxers are pulled down, a low moan leaving his mouth as the air smacks against his cock.

There is a greedy look in your eyes as you scramble to your knees on the leather seats with your ass arched in the air, skirt falling forwards. Hoseok expects the usual teasing, the peppered kisses on his tip followed by kitten licks but instead you go straight in taking his dick in your mouth, pushing it down your throat.

With your eyes squeezed shut you swallow him down until your nose is resting on his skin. Hoseok groaned, head falling back onto the headrest as he watched you. “Fuck….baby,” He’s whining when you pull off of him, jerking his wet cock in your hand as you suckle his balls into your mouth.

Your thumb rolls into his tip spreading the little bits of cum all over. Dropping his balls from your mouth you move back up, pushing just the head into your mouth swirling your tongue around like it was a piece of your favorite candy. Hoseok has to force his eyes closed trying his hardest not cum right then and there.

He can hear a soft laugh leave your mouth as you become aware of what he’s doing but of course you don’t let up. Like the little demon you are, you just shove him back into your mouth, swallowing around his length as you take it in. The little gasps and moans leaving Hoseok’s mouth makes you proud. You’d missed hearing him lose it in person so much.

There is a nudge at his hand and Hoseok opens his eyes to see you nudging his hand with your own trying to push it towards your head. Hoseok already thinks he knows what you want but just to be sure he mumbles a quick “Can I?” You nod your head and not needing to be told twice Hoseok rests his hand in your curls, gripping them ever so slightly.

You tap his thigh signaling to him that he could go. Hoseok is moving his hips forward slowly at first but it doesn’t take him long to lose control, dick smacking the back of your throat every time he thrusts in. You love it though, fingers finding their way to your clit as he fucks your face with fervor.

The obscene noises that escape your mouth each time he pushes in eggs him on. “Holy shit, baby please.” He can feel the pressure building up in the bottom of his belly. Hoseok tries to slow down but when he stops his thrusts you just go back to sucking him down.

“Wa-wait baby please. Gonna-gonna cum.” Of course you don’t listen. You swallow around his dick one more time before thick spurts of cum bursts into your mouth. Hoseok shudders as he cums, letting out a loud cry as the pleasure racks through his body.

You hold him in your mouth swallowing everything down, waiting until his shaking stops before you pull away. With a proud smile you show him a clean tongue making a fucked out grin spread across his face.

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathed out. Eyes feeling heavy as he tried to force them to keep open. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard in a long time.”

“I’d hope not. I’m the only one who's allowed to do that to you.”

“You are, baby. No one but you.”

You leaned up pressing a kiss on his lips then neck. “Please play with me.” You whispered, taking his hand guiding it to your cunt.

You were soaking wet. Panties drenched through and through. Moans spilled from your mouth as Hoseok’s fingers rubbed against your clit. You looked so pretty, mouth slightly ajar and eyes fluttered close. Every sound you made went straight to his dick. Hoseok leaned forward, pushing up your top, taking a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the nub, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking.

Moving from your clit Hoseok pushes his finger into your cunt. Despite him being gone for long, it only took him a few seconds to find that spot pushing up against it as he scissored his fingers into your hole.

Your back arched up, pushing into him more. “I could come like this….buh-but I don’t wanna. Wanna-wanna ride you.”

“Please,” Hoseok immediately begged.

“Can you handle it?”

He nodded. Looking down you could see he was hard again. Hoseok wasn’t sure how long he’d last but none of that mattered.

“Just a little sen-”

But before he could even get the last word of his sentence out you’d already grabbed his cock, sliding down on it. There was no build-up, as soon as you had him in you, you took off. The truck filled with the sound of skin slapping as you bounced up and down.

Hoseok had to force his eyes closed. The fear that if he watched you he’d burst right there, but not even that helped. The moans, your nails digging into his skin, it just egged him closer.

There was no real rhythm as you fucked him, only plain desperation. Often going from bouncing then to grinding. Your hips moved eagerly in search of an orgasm.

He felt your hand find its way to his neck, fingers pressing lightly against it. “Look at me.” You ordered softly.

Hoseok listened, his eyes first falling on your breast that jiggled in his face with every bounce, then on a pleasure-induced smile that filled your face as you looked down at him.

“Love you so much.”

Hoseok opens his mouth beginning to say it back, but the only thing he’s able to get out is an ‘I-’ before he feels everything hit.

There’s no time to warn you as his hips shoot up, pleasure coursing throughout his body. Hoseok can hear himself saying something but none of it makes sense. It's just a jumbled-up bunch of words.

You don’t slow down either. He didn’t think it was possible but you start moving faster. Each thrust of your hips seemingly pulls more and more cum from him.

“Fuck..baby please.” Hoseok cried out. He wasn’t sure what he was even begging for. If he was begging you to slow down or keep going. It was so much but it felt so good.

You just kept using him and using him until with a familiar clench a loud scream left your throat. You fucked him through your orgasm and only when you were done did your body fall slack against his.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“Don’t ever leave me again.” Is the first thing you say. You lean back off resting on his shoulder to look at him.

No longer is the girl from just a few seconds ago there anymore. It was just the soft,sweet one that everyone knew and loved.

The one that would call him sometimes crying over how much she missed him and would send him morning texts that counted down the days until the two of you saw each other again.

You looked at him begging with those big round eyes for a yes and even though it’s a promise that both of you know he will never be able to keep, knowing that just in a few months he’ll probably be back on tour, Hoseok agrees

[toru-oikawas-milkbread]

5 Minutes | Osamu Miya

Pairing: Osamu Miya x f!reader

Prompt/summary: Spending a couple of minutes in the backroom with your husband was originally to get a few things needed and take some inventory while a few of the other workers were in the main part of the store, but when you kiss him and he doesn’t resist, you just can’t help but touch him, feeling his abs and eventually ending up on your knees. You didn’t think you’d ever recover from the embarrassment once you leave the backroom with shaky legs, but you’re surprised to find that everybody is gone and the embarrassment waits another day

Word count: 4.9K 

Warnings/contents: Smut: Light squirting, light clit stimulation, pussy penetration, light begging, praising. Strong language, fluff, 18+

Notes: Slowly losing both my patience and my sanity (both of which were already alarmingly low 😂), but have a ball with this chapter, guys. Completely forgot I had this to post until I came on here. I’ve successfully done nothing aside from breakdown today! 🥳 with that being said, I may or may not come back and post more, but I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I may add colors onto my Haikyuu text posts, maybe not. No promises I’ll do anything aside from simply exist today!! 

So for now, Osamu: 

In this chapter, you and Osamu are both 24 years old! The masterlist for the 5 minutes series in in the name if you would like to go and check out the other characters as I post them!

<>~<>~<>

Minute 5

Fingers were soft in your hair, gently giving you a tug every now and then. You barely looked up at the man, sucking hard on his shaft and swirling your tongue around him to make him give more soft, breathy moans. The backroom was quiet, almost eerily so. You were afraid to be back here alone, getting creeped out from all of the dark corners in the room, but when Osamu was with you, things felt fine— and when Osamu’s dick was in your mouth, things felt better than fine.

You bobbed your head on his shaft, moaning shakily around him and making the man give a soft hum as he rubbed your forehead with his thumb. Osamu was relaxed back against the wall, slowly sliding down and yet not caring to do more than press a hand to the wall. Things hadn’t been too sexual between the two of you lately, but you weren’t necessarily going through a dry spell, you were just spending less time in bed in a physical way and instead the two of you were snuggling on the sofa, cooking dinner, joking and laughing, having dinner with Atsumu, going to his old home this last weekend and seeing his mom. You’d been busy with other things, having not thought too much about sex.

Truth be told, you could never do this and he would be fine. He would understand. He wouldn’t care. He didn’t marry you for your body, he married you because you were his best friend— because he knew you’d be the person to sit on the counter and put frosting on his nose when you make Christmas cookies and be the person he held close when it stormed, fingers in his hair while he dozed off and listened to your steady heart that always soothed him to sleep.

A soft moan came from you around Osamu’s cock as you shifted on your knees. The ground was hard, but with these few minutes alone, you couldn’t help but want to kiss him beforehand. You hadn’t thought an innocent hand up his shirt feeling his lightly defined abs was going to lead you here, but you certainly hadn’t complained then and you weren’t complaining now.

“We should get back soon,” Osamu said softly, catching your eye as you hollowed your cheeks around him and made the man moan. “I don’t think ya want people to come looking for us and finding ya like this.” He said, but you only raised an eyebrow at the man who gave a soft laugh. “Okay— maybe you’re fine with it, but nobody’ll ever let me live it down.” You went to pull back, but shockingly the man stopped you. “Well… not… right now.” He said, making you smirk around him before you took him back down your throat, gagging around him quietly and giving his thigh a squeeze. “You’re so good at this,” he said with a breathy sigh.

You hummed in response to his words, sliding your tongue around his shaft and bobbing your head again around him. He relaxed his head back against the wall, nudging his hat up on his head when he pushed his fingers beneath it to run them through his hair. Despite not being too sexual as of lately, Osamu truthfully didn’t ask you to suck his cock all too often in general and didn’t always say yes when you offered to do it in bed, so it had been awhile since your mouth had been around his cock. As good as you made Osamu feel, you’d missed this.

Even if the floor was hard, if the backroom typically scared you, if someone might catch you— you couldn’t resist it when he didn’t turn you down when your fingers fiddled with the button on his jeans. You couldn’t say no to your thoughts— to getting on your knees and sucking on his cock. You missed feeling him in your mouth, truthfully planning on sucking on his cock on the drive home tonight, but he’d given you this opportunity perfectly and you couldn’t stop. You were disappointed he’d mentioned stopping soon, though eagerly sucking on him when he specified— soon, not now.

“Will ya let me eat ya out tonight?” He asked. “Let me taste ya?” You peeked up at the man who met your eyes and licked his lips. “Lets get the vibrator out tonight— I’ll make ya feel so good. I’ll make ya squirt all over the bed. And my face.” He sent you a wink, making you give a little laugh around him, but you couldn’t help shifting on your knees again— this time not because it hurt. “You like the thought of that?” He asked, watching you press your hands to your knees and lean in to take all of him inside of your mouth and bob your head along his thick shaft. “Mmm, baby— it feels so good,” he sighed contently, closing his eyes as you edged him towards an orgasm. “‘Gonna make me cum…” He mumbled so quietly you almost couldn’t hear.

You spoke around him— something he swore was “So cum” and he couldn’t help it. His fingers tightened in your hair, hips lightly jerking against your jaw and making you gag as he came in your mouth, biting back a moan and panting. You slowly pulled back, letting go of his cock with a quiet ‘pop’ while you swallowed his cum and panted along with the man. He sighed, looking down at you and hesitantly letting your hair go.

“So fucking good at that.” He said with a little smile, offering you a hand to help you up. “I just wish it didn’t have to end so soon.” You glanced at the clock on the wall and chewed on the inside of your lip.

“Well… who said it did…?” Osamu gave a soft chuckle, leaning down and pressing his lips to your neck as he adjusted his pants, making you think that he was turning you down and almost made you sigh before he spoke softly by your ear.

“I guess yer right, nobody did.” You gave a soft hum, pulling back to look into his pretty eyes. You bit your lip, watching his eyes flick to your lips a few times as you looked at him. “What do ya want, baby? I think we can spare just another couple minutes. Do ya want me to go between these sexy thighs of yours?” He asked quietly. “Ya want me to see how much I can make your clit throb for me before I make ya cum?” You thought for a moment, glancing down and stopping his hand from buttoning his jeans.

“You know what I really want?” You started softly, peeking up at him with a pleading look you knew he almost never turned down. “I want you to fuck me.” He seemed hesitant, glancing back at the door and then the clock before he nodded.

“Alright, baby. I’ll give ya what ya want.” He said, shocking you. Truthfully, you thought he’d say no, but deciding to give it a shot— after all, the worst he could do is turn you down and give you something else. You knew he wouldn’t leave you alone, so you figured you may as well go big or go home, and you couldn’t have been more glad you hadn’t turned down the thought of asking him for sex. “Come here, we don’t have a whole lot of time.” He picked you up, making you give a cute sound in shock and then a laugh as you wrapped your arms around him and got gently pressed to the wall.

Minute 4

Osamu held your thigh, gently sliding your underwear to the side and both of you were equally glad that you’d chosen to wear a skirt tonight instead of jeans. You shifted back against the wall while he pulled himself from his boxers, leaning in to kiss your neck as he teased your entrance with his cock, giving a soft sigh against your skin.

“Yer pretty wet,” he said softly. “Did ya get this way suckin’ on my cock?” You gave a sweet hum and slid one of your hands up in his hair, the other feeling over his shoulders over the relatively tight shirt he wore.

“You know I love sucking your cock,” you said, meeting his eyes. He looked surprisingly lustful, glancing at your lips as he pushed his cockhead inside of you and made your eyes flutter shut with a soft moan. “Oh, you’re so big…” You mumbled as he teased your entrance, sliding out and pushing himself back in.

“Ya gonna be okay?” He asked quietly. “If ya need more, we can go home,” you pressed a finger to his lips and softly shushed him.

“Don’t pull out. Just go in.” You whispered. “I want it.” You promised, moving your finger so you could kiss his lips. He was quick to kiss you back, holding tight onto your legs, though sliding them closer to your ass now that he didn’t need to hold himself by your entrance and instead carefully rocked himself inside of you. Soft whines came from you against his lips, but you kissed him deeply, passionately— fingers curling in his hair and eyebrows furrowing inwards as you moaned into his mouth and kept him close.

Osamu moaned into your mouth in return, groping at your skin while you tugged lightly at his hair and grabbed tight on his shoulder. You moaned his name, making the man twitch inside of you as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. You complied easily, swirling your tongue around his with flushed cheeks as he thrusted inside of you. You were clenching tight around him, but every moan from you was sweet, soft— you didn’t sound pained, and so long as you sounded like you were okay, Osamu continued to tease you, coaxing your tongue into his mouth and sucking on it.

Your ears burned at the teasing gesture, making you seem to sink more into the man who steadily moved inside of you. This position made you tight— it felt so good around him that he found it hard not to move faster, but he was working his way there, enjoying the feeling of how wet you were around him and deciding to put it off on his near future self to figure out how to not look like he’d just had sex with you in the backroom when he already felt some of your wetness dripping down to his balls because he couldn’t care in this moment.

“‘Samu,” you mumbled, pulling back to meet eyes with the man, though both of you looked at each other through half-lidded, lustful eyes, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips as you felt his breath on yours, your nose brushing against his. “Will you go a little faster?” He nodded softly, gripping tight onto you and starting to move his hips faster against you, making you give a shaky moan that you had to bite back, resting your head back against the wall instead of kissing your husband like you were planning on doing. “Fuck…”

Osamu leaned in, kissing your neck sweetly— his wet lips pressing soft kisses to your neck and resisting the urge to give you a mark that everybody would see, though his teeth softly grazed your skin and made you seem to tighten around him.

“Will ya let me fuck ya again when we get home?” He asked, sounding almost desperate. “I wanna feel ya again. I wanna make ya moan my name. I wanna give ya a hickey so bad.” He mumbled, kissing your skin.

“Yes— and it’s not my neck, but you can give me a hickey somewhere else, if you want.” You said, watching as the man pulled back a bit. “You can pull my shirt up.” He licked his lips, holding you carefully in one hand and bringing his other up to lift your shirt with your blessing— though you helped him pull your bra up and held onto your shirt and bra for him. “You can suck on them and watch them this way,” you said, knowing how much he loved to eye your boobs as they jiggled in front of him in any circumstance.

Osamu hummed, leaning in and kissing your bouncing breasts.

“I love ya so fuckin’ much.” He said sweetly, sucking on your skin and easily giving you a little mark, but he didn’t stop. His lips traveled around your breasts, softly sucking and leaving faint marks he knew would go away tonight, but there were a few times he sucked too hard when you whimpered sweetly, knowing they’d take a day or two to disappear on their own. You reached down, groping at your breast and holding it still for the man who nearly drooled. “So fuckin’ much,” he mumbled, taking your nipple into your mouth as you giggled but making you gasp when he sucked hard on your breast.

“Oh— ‘Samu,” you mumbled, wishing you could grab his hair or hold it back instead of your shirt and bra, but it felt so good with his mouth around your nipple that you couldn’t care to move, watching him suck on your skin while he thrusted steadily inside of you, the sound of his belt quietly jingling lost from your ears as you grabbed tight onto your clothes and rolled your eyes back into your head as you had a short orgasm around his cock. “Oh, fuck, ‘Samu…”

Minute 3

“Ah, I can’t wait to make ya cum even more at home,” he said softly, kissing your breast again before he moved to kiss your lips. You gave a soft moan against his mouth, tender as he thrusted evenly inside of you and worked you towards another quick orgasm. You let go of your shirt and bra, grasping onto his shoulder and shoving your tongue into his mouth, making the man give a soft moan as he easily gave into your desires, fingers reaching up to grope at your breast and pinch your nipple, making you moan against his tongue. “Oh, fuck,” he mumbled. “Hold yourself against the wall, baby.” You nodded at his words, carefully resting back against the wall while Osamu let go of your other leg, reaching to rub at your clit and making you moan softly, meeting his eyes and flushing deeply.

“Oh, ‘Samu— feels so good—” You moaned desperately, watching him pucker his lips for a soft shush that you nodded along to lightly. “‘Samu— ‘Samu, it feels so good,” you said quieter, biting your lip and making the man hum sweetly as he moved faster inside of you and made your eyes roll back into your head again. You moaned pathetically, toes curling as he thrusted inside of you and steadily worked you towards another orgasm, one that this time came faster and harder.

Osamu was quick to press his hand to your mouth when you made a noise louder than before, giving a soft chuckle as your cheeks burned. He didn’t stop his hips from thrusting into you, ignoring the wet spot he knew was going to be on his jeans, thankful he’d chosen the black pants today and unable to stop himself from making you give more sweet moans against his hand as he moved inside of you.

He pulled his hand back from your mouth and pressed his forehead to yours, listening to your panting and giving a soft sigh beneath his breath.

“That coulda been bad,” he said with a little snicker. “Guess we haven’t done anything like this in awhile.”

“Yeah, you never make me stay quiet.” He hummed, kissing your lips sweetly.

“Why the hell would I want ya to stay quiet when ya could scream my name instead?” You gave a soft giggle, but he was right; he’d always let you be loud with him, making sure the two of you were in places where you didn’t have to stay quiet. After being with your ex who you could never be anywhere but home with, you found it refreshing to be able to make noise instead of bottling it up.

Besides, Osamu always loved to hear you. To make you whine, moan, even scream. He wanted you to be noisy, to hear his name come from you even time after time only seconds apart. He didn’t want a quiet partner, he didn’t want you to be ashamed of moaning and he’d always made that clear.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, nuzzling your head closer to his. “You feel so good,” you said, licking your lips. “I can’t fucking wait to be home with you,” you mumbled out between pants. “Will you fuck me against the door? And then on the sofa? And then in bed? And then in the shower?” Osamu gave a deep chuckle that made your clit throb for him.

“Are ya sure ya want me to leave ya without the vibrator for so long? Will ya even be able to cum at all once we get to bed after all that?” He teased, making you flush as you met his eyes.

“Mhm.”

“Ya sure?”

“Mhm.” You moaned softly and leaned into the man. “Please daddy, will you finger me in the car and make me gush around you by the door?” Osamu’s cheeks warmed as he licked his lips with a soft hum, his fingers rubbing at your clit and making you moan since they hadn’t moved since you’d cum.

“How could I say no to ya when ya say it like that,” he said with a soft sigh. “I’ll give ya anything ya want, baby. Ya know I will.” You gave a sweet moan and pressed your forehead to his shoulder, grabbing tight onto his arms, feeling his biceps beneath your grasp while he reached back for your thighs and grabbed assuringly at you.

“Mm, you always give me what I want.” You said, kissing his neck softly. “In bed and other times. Nobody makes me feel as good as you,” you sighed, licking his neck slowly and making the man hum as he leaned his head into you, a shaky moan leaving him quickly afterwards as he glanced at the time on the wall and chewed on the inside of his lip.

“Ya think… I have time to cum?” He asked, glancing at you as you looked at the clock. “Would ya mind?” You gave a soft chuckle and shook your head.

“You can fill me up 20 times before we leave the room and I wouldn’t mind.”

Minute 2

“What I wouldn’t do to have that much time with ya,” he sighed while you leaned back in and kissed his neck, softly sucking on his skin and moving his shirt to work a hickey onto his shoulder where nobody but you would see.

“Mmm, ‘Samu,” you mumbled by his ear sweetly. “‘Samu, fuck… fuck, I want you to fill me up,” you mumbled, kissing his ear gently. “Please— fill me up with your cum, ‘Samu— fucking fill me up with you.” He gave a soft moan, resting his head against yours while you moaned close to his ear. “Mmm, it feels so good,” you mumbled, kissing his neck softly and making the man hum sweetly.

“Ya feel so good, baby,” he said softly. “So tight, baby.” He sighed, his short nails digging into your thighs with how tightly he grabbed at your skin, but you could have cared less as you licked and kissed along his neck, trying to work him towards an orgasm before the two of you had to get back like he’d brought you to one— like he always brought you to one. There wasn’t a time with Osamu that you had been unsatisfied or left feeling like he was only in it for his pleasure.

“Oh, ‘Samu,” you mumbled, sucking gently on his neck and making the man give another little moan as he thrusted deep inside of you. “Fuck, I want you to cum in me so fucking bad— can’t wait to go home and make a mess with you.” Osamu chuckled by your ear, pulling back to meet your eyes with a small, mischievous smile on his handsome face that made your cheeks warm. You almost distinctly remembered the first time you’d viewed Osamu as more interesting— he seemed so plain when you met him, especially alongside his loud brother, but you gave him a chance you never stopped being glad for.

“We’ll make a big fucking mess, baby.” He promised, kissing your head. “But for now, I’m gonna fill this pretty little pussy with my cum.” He said quietly, kissing your head softly two more times. “Ah, fuck— yer pussy’s so tight,” he hummed, kissing you sweetly. “Mmm, I don’t ever want this to change,” he whispered, kissing you again. “Just want it to be you and me forever,” he mumbled, moaning into your mouth right afterwards.

“It is,” you said between kisses. “Just you and me forever,” you promised, kissing him and making him hum as his thrusts seemed to get sloppier inside of you. “I don’t ever want somebody else inside of me,” you said, nuzzling your nose against his own. “I don’t ever want anybody else to cum inside of me, I just want you.” You promised, reaching up and giving his hair a tug. “Oh, you feel so good—” Osamu put his hand back over your mouth, pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes as he panted. You gave a muffled moan against his hand, something that made his heart race.

“Fuck, I just wanna hear ya so bad,” he said, kissing your nose gently. “I don’t ever want somebody else to hear ya. Is that too selfish? Can I be selfish?” He knew you couldn’t reply, but the look in your eyes was enough. “Mmm— it’s okay, we can be selfish with each other. I want to be the only person who’s ever inside of ya, too. I don’t ever want somebody else to see ya like this— I just want it to be me.” He said with a soft grunt. “I never wanted anybody else to have ya like this. I always wanted it to be me, but I thought… maybe ya’d never wanna be with me like this.” You sent him a saddened look, so he moved his hand back from your mouth.

“I always wanted you,” you assured him, and it was always true. After spending some time with the less expressive twin and seeing how fun he could be, you gained a crush on him— fast. He was quick to meet your standards, to become the only man that you wanted, to become the only man you thought about. Even when it was a small crush, you flushed around him and wanted to be alone with him just to hear him talk about things he might not have with others around.

Because he was interesting, but his brother was always stealing the show. And as much as you adored Atsumu and loved to be around him when he came to the shop and on holidays, you wanted Osamu alone. You wanted to talk to him, get a better understanding of him, and then one glorious evening, kiss him.

You could remember it so vividly even now. The way his hand held your cheek, a kiss that was so inexperienced on both of your ends was so sweet— until you bumped foreheads, something that you bursted out laughing about and made him laugh, too. That was how things always were between the two of you— fun. There was no “It was your fault this happened,” only mutual blame and a husband who never made you feel unloved or unwanted even on his or your own worst days.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, thrusting sloppily inside of you and slowly pulling you from your thoughts as he kissed your neck and gently sucked on your skin beneath your jaw. You bit your lip, fingers tugging gently on his hair.

“Osamu?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you so much.”

“I love ya so much too, baby.”

“I’m so glad I married you.”

“I’m so glad ya married me too, baby.”

Minute 1

His kiss was soft but desperate after he spoke, feverish, soft lips pressed hard to yours with warm cheeks and hands groping at your breasts. You gave in immediately to the kiss, eyes rolling back into your head when he thrusted deep inside of you and hit a spot he knew always made you squirt out around him with the right pressure.

“Mmm, ‘Samu,” you mumbled between heated kisses, your lips and chin wet, but you couldn’t care as you tugged his hair and made the man give a moan into your mouth. “Mmm— feels so good,” you mumbled, meeting his tongue with your own and flushing when his fingers rolled your nipple between them. “Mmm, so good…”

“Ah, fuck— I’m gonna cum,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours and catching his breath from the heated kiss. Your fingers twirled his hair around them gently, occasionally rubbing his scalp and making the man give a soft hum as he pushed inside of you. “Mmm, baby…” He mumbled. “I’m gonna cum.” He kissed your cheek, pressing his forehead down to your shoulder and biting his lip as he felt it coming with every deep thrust inside of you. “Fuck… fuck….”

It took a short two more thrusts inside of you for him to come undone, nuzzling his head hard against your shoulder as he pressed his body to yours with one final thrust, hands grabbing hard at your skin— so hard you’d be surprised if there weren’t marks, but you didn’t have the time to care when he panted, pulling back and meeting your eyes.

“Fuck, ya really take it out of me, baby.” He mumbled, kissing you sloppily. You were quick to kiss him back, snugly keeping your legs around him, and he didn’t complain. You giggled into his mouth when he twitched inside of you and gave his hair one final tug before you pulled back.

“We should go,” you whispered regretfully. “Someone is gonna come looking for us.” He sighed, though he nodded, knowing that you were right. Carefully, Osamu pulled himself out of you, gently setting you on your shaky legs and letting you use his shoulders for balance while he adjusted his pants and looked at you almost desperately.

“Can ya tell?” You looked between his legs and blinked, meeting his eyes before you looked back at his crotch.

“That your jeans are wet, no— not unless you touch them and I doubt someone else is gonna touch your dick.” Osamu gave a soft laugh and kissed your head.

“Only you and me.”

“But…” He sighed as you trailed off and adjusted them.

“I can’t make it go away.” You gave a soft hum and kissed him.

“It’s okay— maybe nobody will notice.” He seemed to think for a moment before he shrugged, reaching down to help you adjust your underwear and giving a soft sigh as his fingers brushed against your pussy.

“You’re really wet,” his fingers lingered by your panties, missing the way you bit your lip as he looked between your legs.

“Osamu— we gotta go,” you pressed quietly, not wanting to and yet knowing that if you gave into his advances, he would most likely stay with you in here and someone may come looking. With a sigh, Osamu pulled his fingers back and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled back, carefully letting you go and looking at you almost pathetically. “They’re gonna know.” You gave a soft, almost awkward chuckle and nodded.

“They’re gonna know.” He looked to your shaky legs, offering you an arm that you took as you walked slowly with the man from the backroom and back towards the front of the shop. “But maybe they just… won’t mention it.” You mumbled, looking down as you walked. “It’s dark in here.” Osamu frowned, looking around the shop.

“It is dark in here.” He brought you to the counter, letting you lean against it with shaky legs as he walked towards the front door. It was locked, there were no cars in the parking lot anymore and he’d parked your car in the back out of pure habit. Osamu looked back at you with a raised eyebrow while you watched him. “Good thing I have keys— they left.” You gave a sigh in relief and hung your head.

“Oh, thank god.” Osamu chuckled, walking over to you and pressing his hands on either side of you on the counter, leaning in to kiss you. “That was going to suck. Big time. More than I do.” He laughed at your joke and kissed your head.

“Guess we saved our embarrassment for another day.” He gently reached down, a hand grabbing your thigh to catch your attention. “Do ya wanna go home? Or do ya wanna…” He trailed off as you looked at him hesitantly.

“But… cameras.”

“Alright, baby— let’s go home.” Carefully, Osamu picked you up, making you laugh as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He grabbed his keys from his pocket and walked with you to the back door, opening it and locking it carefully behind himself. “Let’s go home,” he said again, this time with a relieved sigh. “I’m gonna make ya scream my name this time, baby.” You hummed, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I can’t wait.”

“Ya don’t need to, I’ll bury my fingers in ya in the car.”

“Mmm, you get me so excited for it just mentioning it.”

[aizawaskittenwhore]

𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

≛ 𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴.

≛ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

≛ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1𝘬

≛ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢 /𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘥𝘰𝘮 (𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪), 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘥𝘶𝘩.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

i’m gonna be honest

that whole “innocent bby deku🥺” shit is played out. this man will demolish your pussy and will not apologize for it.

izuku has the full capacity to be rough in bed, so don’t let his sweet and demure presence fool you

he’s really into overstim surprisingly enough

watching you stir and keen as you cum again for the third time in a row fills him with a sense of pride

knowing nobody else could make you whine like this, make you sputter and stumble over each word, make you cream all over the dick the way he does

he also adores fucking you to the point where you can’t form a comprehensible sentence

he’ll give you deep, slow strokes while holding a bullet vibe directly to your swollen clit, pine eyes sparkling as he watches you plead for him to stop, yet buck your hips into him, chasing another orgasm.

calls you bunny instead of puppy bc ew

“you’re so insatiable, bunny. you like it when i—ah, fuck!—tease your pussy like this? ‘like it when i take what’s mine?”

the pleasure is overwhelming, insurmountable as he brings you to that prepice over and over again until you’re crying.

he’ll then flip you onto your stomach, hands digging into the dimples and slopes of your hips before absolutely impaling you on his length

he’s thick, and comes in at a solid 6-7 inches, so you’re always sore after a round or two

also

breeding kink. like a major one.

izuku wasn’t always the most confident in his abilities as a boyfriend let alone a lover

so when you started letting him cum inside you it was a huge boost

likes breeding you before work so he can think about the guys that hit on you in the break room smelling the scent of sex all over your body as you walk past them, sticky white fluid creeping down the leg of your pantyhose.

he couldn’t keep other guys from looking at you, but he could damn sure remind you of who you belonged to.

oh, and he’ll slide two fingers in once he’s done and scoop as much of his cum between them as possible before slipping them in your mouth so he can watch you suck it all off

this mf is possessive and nasty.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

facefucking.

that’s it. send tweet

nah but in all seriousness, katsuki loves watching your eyes well up with tears as you squeeze and milk his dick for all it’s worth.

he’s a good 7-7.5 inches

not an insane amount of girth but the length more than compensates for it

most definitely uses it as a punishment

and isn’t afraid to do it while you’re in public either

which brings us to his exhibition kink

he’s very prideful when it comes to his reputation as a hero, so you would think that it would keep him from doing anything scandal worthy

wrong

it only adds to the searing arousal he gets from watching your tongue fondle his sensitive head, knees bruised from being beneath him for so long

it’s a power trip for him, especially if he’s in costume

depending on your behavior, he’ll be generous and let you swallow while praising your performance

or he’ll wrap a hand around the back of your neck, slide your mouth off of his spit-soaked cock, and stroke himself until his cum splatters all over your eyelashes, fully debauching you in the desolate alleyway

he’s made you walk back home with cum all over your face before, after you’d been particularly bratty over the course of a week

“katsuki! i can’t walk back home like this, what if someone notices?!”

“should’ve thought about that before you decided to visit me while you weren’t wearing any fuckin’ panties. nasty little girl...now hurry up and get a move on, and you better not wipe it off either.”

loves the thrill of humiliating you

unrelated, but he’s an ass man through and through, taking such pleasure in watching it jiggle and ripple under each heavy blow he delivers

takes photos of the marks afterwards and has an album for em.

he also loves fucking you on different surfaces around your penthouse (and his agency)

the man is territorial

so what better way to mark his territory than by making his gorgeous girlfriend squirt and cream all over it?

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰:

babe i am so sorry for your neighbors

cause if there’s nothing else shinsou loves it’s to make you scream

he’s got a corruption kink, but not in the way most people do

he doesn’t give a damn if you’re sweet and innocent, or if you’ve got the mouth of a sailor and could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch

what matters to him is making you lose your composure.

one day you’d been anticipating a call back from a job interview you’d gone to a few days prior

and shinsou just so happened to be observing your blissed-out expression as he ground into you from below, your body atop his

when your damned phone started ringing

being the sly little shit that he is, he saw an opportunity

“answer the phone pretty girl...don’t wanna keep them waiting, do you?”

reaching for your buzzing cell, you press the green ‘accept’ button, raising the device to your ear as you jolt forward

“hello, may i speak to y/n?” a chipper voice chimed through the receiver.

“t-this is sh-she. how can i—ah!—help you?” you garble your words, trying to suppress your moans

hitoshi merely takes this as a challenge, opting to drive into you deeper whilst trying to keep the noise down, it’s less fun when it’s obvious what you two are doing

his dick is thick as FUCK. 6 going on 7 inches but honestly you couldn’t give less of a fuck with the way he’s stretching you

surprisingly enough you managed your way through the phone call, telling the white lie of “helping the neighbors move”

but little did you know this was only the beginning of hitoshi’s new favorite pastime

he’s another exhibitionist too

so uh...good luck with that

remote control vibrators on dinner dates, fingers stuffed deep inside your sloppy cunt while he makes small talk with your mom at the dinner table,

even kneeling beneath your desk and sending you to heaven and back while you’re on a video call with your fucking boss.

he’s addicted to watching you fall apart, and is more than willing to apply that pressure.

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

dabi’s dick would fuck anyone stupid.

let’s make that clear.

it’s canon that he’s got a jacob’s ladder, blah blah blah, but let’s discuss how fucking pretty it is

creeping in at a firm eight inches, and about 4 and a half in girth with a drool-worthy mauve tip, his shaft slightly lighter than the rest of his tanned, unscarred skin

it’s dangerous, barbells running up the underside of his shaft or not

definitely into temperature play

and i’m not talking about that soft shit like warming up his fingers whilst they’re plunging in and out of your sweet center

no no no

that fucker will BRAND you and will not apologize

you’re his pretty little cumdump, and he’ll stake his claim upon your body how ever the hell he pleases

degradation is a given.

“—what a fuckin’ whore. tch, you really think you deserve this dick?”

“how about you get on your knees and beg for it then if you’re so damn needy.”

“quit your god damn whining, or i swear i’ll leave you spread out on this fuckin’ bar for shiggy to find. maybe i’ll even get a promotion for giving him such a slutty little bitch to use.”

“what’s wrong? does it hurt sweetheart? can’t take it after you talked all that shit earlier?” you shake your head no, thighs trembling as you struggle to maintain the position dabi’s folded you into. “...good.” he smirks, eyes gleaming with malice before pounding you to filth, cries spilling from your mouth as you beg for release, knowing he won’t give it to you.

making you cry? a specialty of dabi’s. your tears get him harder than anything; to watch your lips quiver as you sniffle, wiping away tears while he palms himself through his sweats

has shown you off to shigaraki, and will not hesitate to tongue your fluids off his digits while carrying on a full conversation with the other man.

after all, when you know your toy’s better than someone else’s, you tend to brag.

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪:

speaking of this mf

he’s the reason gamer boys get the rep of having massive dicks

cause god damn did you not expect this man to be slinging around eight bordering on nine inches of dick. four and a half to five inches of girth. poor you.

he’s also got a penchant for angry sex, so if that’s not enough of an indication that you’re going to have trouble walking afterwards i don’t know what is

but one thing he loves more than taking you apart piece by piece and cumming inside of you with zero remorse?

doing it when he’s in the middle of a game, and he’s online with the party’s voice chat.

“mmm—god, you really will do anything i tell you....swallowing every inch while these guys get to listen, and you’re not even embarrassed, you’re getting off on it!”

“i love little sluts like you, always doing whatever it takes just to have a cock pry them open at all times. that’s what you are, right? my little slut, made for me to do whatever i want to.”

yes, he’s made you whine so sweetly for him, cry as you beg him to touch you, while he plays fucking valorant.

and you can’t count how many times he’s mocked the way you gag and choke on his massive length while he played genshin impact with random guys online.

is a sucker for a good set of nudes, and isn’t afraid to ask for them on a regular basis

plus he just likes taking pictures/videos of you in general, saving them to a private album of his phone for him to use when you’re not there

he may parade you around as though you’re a lifeless fuckdoll, but if nothing else he’s possessive, and would rather relive the pain of losing to all might than let another man see you the way he does

but i’ll be honest, tomura’s not always a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a huge dick.

he’s also a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a thing for being dominated....and a huge dick.

see, it balances out!

it started with a bet that if he lost another round of mortal kombat you got to peg him

it took a lot of convincing, but he agreed to the terms, certain he’d win regardless

and after button smashing like your life depended on it with subzero, you managed to secure the win.

a grin stapled itself to your face after being treated to two hours of tomura’s incessant sobs and wails

“mhm—please...i can’t take it—ah! fuck, fuck, fuck! right there!”

“don’t make me work for it, i promise you’ll never be player two again, just please let me cum—m’ so close..”

game nights are always fun with him, you can count on it.

𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴:

my god my god

i’m gonna say it right now: keigo doesn’t eat pussy for you.

he does it for him.

and that makes all the difference in the fucking world when he’s pulling you to sit on his face

scruff scratching at your inner thighs deliciously as he makes you squirt alllll over aforementioned facial hair, rolling your hypersensitive clit between soft lips and a fluid tongue

he could stay between your thighs for hours and hours on end

will propose to devour you in the most inappropriate of places

and honestly? isn’t the least bit ashamed about it. elevators, in front of large office windows just a few stories above the street where you’re just barely visible to the people below,

on endeavor’s decorative towels after he spread them out on the floor so he could fuck you senseless on top of them, etc.

the flame hero had pissed him off earlier, and he needed to exert some petty rage. this was most sensible use of his energy.

also in case it wasn’t obvious: breeding kink. duh.

no thoughts head empty just hawks begging to breed you during his rut

“come on pretty girl, let me make you a momma....can’t wait to stuff you full of my chicks....”

he blushes so deeply when he’s close to cumming

and boy does he fucking whine

dick is just as pretty as he is, he’s a good 6 inches with a three inch girth; tip flushed and pink

definitely cherishes intimacy during sex

and will certainly go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable/desired

he could have all the money/fame in the world

and it still wouldn’t compare to the feeling of your thighs suffocating him while he slurps at your cunt like it’s his last meal.

[ppersonna]

my only wish - knj | m

“ santa can you hear me? i have been so good this year. and all i want is one thing. please tell me my true love is here ” - my only wish (this year), britney spears

✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

✹ genre- smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst if you squint, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, idiots to lovers, brief mention of YoonMin

✹ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), daddy kink lolol, namjoon has a big dick, oral sex (m/f receiving), cum swallowing, light cum play, dirty talk, light degradation (very light tbh), praise kink, lots of mentions of joon being a beefy boy, masturbation,

✹ a/n- its here!! finally! my contribution to rockin around the christmas tropes. big big big shout out to @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @untaemedqueen​ @underthejoon​ @yeojaa​ @snackhobi​ for being my co collaborators. and a warm shout out to @wwilloww​ and @hobi-gif​ for being some very lovely betas. thank you thank you! i hope you enjoy!

There are few things you hate most in this world. 

 Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange…

 But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things: 

 Christmas. 

 And Kim Namjoon. 

Christmas, in your opinion, is nothing more than a consumerist holiday, anchored on ensuring you’re guilted enough from November 1st to the 25th of December to spend your hard earned money on shit your friends and loved ones won’t even use. It’s a time for people to pretend they love giving and caring, while shoving you out of lines in stores, buying up all the groceries as if it’s the end times, and forcing party after mindless party for “celebration” that ends in seeing your boss drunk and pants-less by the punchbowl. 

 And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon. 

 On paper, he’s your colleague, to put the terms friendly. In reality, he’s your opponent, your adversary. He’s annoying, rude, stuck up, and not to mention a douchebag heartbreaker. He’s everything you hate wrapped in one disgustingly handsome face. 

 The man never misses a chance to steal a case from underneath your nose, rub the praise he receives from your bosses in your face, and look ridiculously delectable in his tight suits that he insists he wears around the office. He absolutely infuriates you. 

 And now, as you sit in the company-wide meeting, your heart sinks as you realize the worst thing about Namjoon—he’s about to get the promotion you’ve been vying for your entire career.

 That position was as good as yours—at least, you had thought.

 That was until lead counsel, Seokjin, stands in front of all the attorneys present and calls out Namjoon’s name, commending him on winning his latest case—the case that you had done the bulk of the work for. Seokjin even tells the rest of the lawyers in the room that Namjoon is “someone to watch” with a glint of pride in his eyes. 

 The smug smile Namjoon sends in your direction as he teasingly nibbles on a pen with his sultry mouth is enough to make you want to tear his eyes out and use them as olives in the martini you sorely needed.

 Namjoon smirks as he walks past you once the meeting ends.

 “Make sure you watch me, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 

 His hand rests on your lower back and you hate how much he aggravates you, and hate even more so that he frustrates you sexually as much as he does intellectually.

 Unfortunately, your body can’t keep up with your mind’s distaste for the elder lawyer. His presence around you makes your blood vessels tighten and your head feel light—nipples prickling against your bra when he winks at you.

 “Asshole,” you whisper under your breath as you pack up your notebook.

 “Oh, ___!” Seokjin calls out just as you’re about to leave the all-glass meeting room.

 Your head suddenly screeches to a very frustrated, sexual halt when you turn to face the lead counsel of your company.

 “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

 “I’ve got a case for you.”

 The smile on his face makes you relax. Maybe he sees your potential. Maybe he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing Namjoon. Maybe you’ll be the “one to watch” and you can rub that right in Namjoon’s perfect, stunning face.

 A thick manila folder slides across the oak table towards you from Seokjin’s hands. The impressive volume of the dossier makes you giddy with anticipation.

 “I know you won’t let me down.”

 You nod, nibbling at your lips, before bowing to your superior and dashing out of the room as fast as your Louboutins can handle.

 It’s not until you sit at your desk, a cramped little cubicle next to Park Jimin, your best friend and paralegal assistant, that you open the folder.

 Your heart sinks as your eyes hurriedly rush over the title page.

 Personal Injury Suit.

 A dejected sigh leaves you as you throw the folder onto your desk and slouch back in your ergonomic office chair.

 “What’s up, pussycat?” Jimin smiles as he rolls his chair over to your side of the cubicle. “Namjoon got you worked up again?”

 You groan as you take off your reading glasses, setting them aside to rub at the burgeoning headache building at your temples. You had momentarily forgotten all about Namjoon in the hurried hope that you’d land a case of significance, something you could finally use to prove yourself.

 Instead, you gained yet another in-and-out, settle outside of court case. Likely some elderly geriatric suing a corporation for too-slippery floors.

 “Another fucking personal injury suit,” you whine as you thrust the folder into the lithe paralegal’s hands.

 He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

 “Man, Seokjin really has it out for you.”

 You level a look at your best friend, before nodding and holding your head in your hands.

 “Namjoon is getting all the good cases! He gets the media attention, the litigation deals, everything! It’s like I’m not even given a chance to show what kind of lawyer I can be when I’m stuck with all the nursing home and car accident suits!”

 Jimin bows dutifully, nodding his head as you express your woes.

 “I can do more than just personal injury litigation… and Seokjin knows that! It’s just that Namjoon keeps getting all the air-time!”

 “I know, babe. I know.”

 With one last sigh of disbelief, you take the folder out of Jimin’s hands and sit upright at your desk.

 “Well, I guess if I’m going to be a personal injury lawyer, I’m going to be the best fucking one yet. Let’s get to work.”

 “Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

  Namjoon sighs as he listens to his mother blabber on and on through his phone. He leans back in his chair and surveys the wide expanse of his corner office.

 Seokjin gave him this space, an upgrade from the desolate cubicles when he won his last big case, Kim Taehyung, artist v. the city of New York. He can’t help but smirk as he glimpses you from his window, pouring over a case file. He notes the curve of your back in the silk blouse you’re wearing and the way it tucks into your pencil skirt. He wishes he could see the outline of your ass and watch as it sways back and forth when you walk.

 “I just don’t understand why you can’t ever bring anyone home for the holidays!”

 His mother breaks him from his silent reverie of detailing every aspect of your backside.

 “You know your grandmother will not be alive much longer! And all she wants is her only grandson to be happy and in love! And a few grandchildren won’t hurt!”

 “I am her grandchild, Mom.”

 She’s silent for a moment.

 “Well, I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren either.”

 He groans again and presses his fingers to his forehead, a headache bubbling up behind his eyes.

 “Don’t you act like that, young man! You have a big empty house, big car, big life, and no one to share it with. I just want you to be happy.”

 She continues on and Namjoon can’t help but let her words sink in.

 He has it all. Expensive luxury apartment, enormous bed, gorgeous kitchen, money to spend on traveling and enjoying life. Yet he spends most of his time here, stuck in his office. He’s utterly alone, regardless of how many social guests he tries to entertain, horrid dates he attempts to go on. He’s always left alone, and he feels it deep at the very bottom of his heart—the loneliness and desire for a companion.

 “Mom! Mom!” He interrupts her diatribe on the futility of his adult life. “Stop!”

 “Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

 “I’ll bring home my girlfriend for the holidays, okay?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

 “A girlfriend?” she asks, tentatively. “Really?”

 “Yeah,” he breathes, wincing already at the lie he’s spoon-feeding his poor mother—all in the name of getting her off his back. “She’s kind of shy, so I didn’t want to tell you about her yet, but now seems like the best time. I’m... I’m even thinking of proposing.”

 The words come out of Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop them. His mom bursts into screams of delight, and he can tell she’s running to his beloved grandmother to tell her the news.

 “Oh, Namjoon! This is all we’ve ever wanted for you. I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to meet her! Oh, goodness, I can’t want to tell your father. Goodbye, son! I’ll see you two soon!”

 She hangs up before Namjoon has a chance to even breathe.

 “Fuck.”

 He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces. 

 How the hell is he going to find a fiance in the next 3 days before the holiday break? 

 There’s Jennie, his ex.

 He thinks about it for a moment, before quickly dismissing it. No, much too clingy and possessive. She’d take it to be real, and he’d be stuck with her.

 His last hookup, Jihoo?

 No, too aloof. His mom would never buy that they were a love-sick couple on the brink of engagement.

 A crash outside his office startles Namjoon, making him stand and exit the large corner suite.

 The commotion is coming from your cubicle, where he can see you’re struggling to use the decrepit computer. The crash must have been from you slamming the keyboard to the desk, causing the individual keys to pop off the board.

 “Shit! Jimin, help me put this keyboard back together!” 

 You shimmy out of your chair and onto your knees, an excellent sight for Namjoon if he wasn’t so concerned about your well-being.

 The paralegal is standing above you, watching as you kneel to gather the pieces of the obliterated keyboard.

 “Oh no, honey. It’s against my personal constitution to be on my knees unless it’s for a handsome man.”

 “God, Jimin, come on.”

 “Hey, it’s not my fault you hulk-smashed the life out of that poor keyboard.”

 Namjoon smirks, turning back into his office and sliding into his desk. He easily opens his MacBook and emails Yoongi in IT, requesting a brand new computer for your desk—no holds barred. He wants the top of the line for you.

 He suddenly has just the person in mind to be his fake fiancée. 

  A brand new, gorgeous computer is at your desk the next day you arrive.  You nearly spill your hot peppermint mocha when you see the sleek machine atop your old plastic desk instead of the broken clunker that was there the day before.

 “What the hell?” You ask Jimin as you set your coffee down gently as if any movement might scare the new computer away. “Did you order this?”

 “I love you, but I would never order you something this nice.” 

 You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit down to marvel at the modern machinery. At least Jimin is honest.

 “Maybe I’ll call Yoongi and ask him where it came from,” you wonder aloud, hand hovering over your phone.

 “YOONGI?” Jimin screeches, eyes suddenly wide and crazed.

 “Yeah? The IT guy?”

 “I know who Yoongi is, you dumbass! Here, let me call him! I’m your assistant!”

 He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

 “You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

 Jimin smiles cherubically, completely ignoring your confusion. He’s suddenly the picture of a model employee.

 “Don’t you worry! I’ll be right on it!”

 He hops from your desk with your cell phone gripped tight, and saunters away to a secluded area out of your eyesight.

 “What the fuck is going on today?” You ask out loud, settling into your chair and unloading your bag of files.

 “How's the new computer?”

 The sudden intruder makes you jump, nearly spilling your coffee, yet again.

 “Fuck!” You shriek as you attempt to right yourself and the dangerously hot liquid sloshing in the paper cup. “You scared me!”

 The chuckle that comes from behind you makes your stomach flip. You know that laugh. You could recognize that laugh a hundred miles away, in a hurricane, with headphones on.

 That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

 “I—How did you know about my computer?”

 Namjoon takes a knee, bringing his face to your level in your chair. He’s close to you, so dangerously close. You can smell the Giorgio Armani cologne applied to his pressure points—the heat of his skin warming the scent and mingling with his own subtleties. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head. He smells so comforting—like a home you never knew you were missing until he arrived.  

 “I saw it when I walked in this morning.” 

 He breaks you from your daydreaming of warm, firm hands caressing your body and you’re thrown headfirst back into reality—the reality where you can’t stand the man mere inches from you.

 You push back from where you are and stand, eager to get away from Namjoon’s sudden interest in close proximity. He smirks and rises from his spot, pocketing his hands in his tight cream suit.

 “Care to join me in my office for some coffee?” He asks.

 His office. The one he scored after he won the Kim Taehyung case. The bitter betrayal still lingers in your mouth. 

 For the longest time, you had been equal in every sense; both living in the dingy cubicles with the computers long-destined for retirement. Then, Seokjin awarded him with the corner office, the one with the view of the entire city. You’d never forgiven either of them.

 “I have my own coffee.”

 Namjoon smirks as he eyes your paper cup, clearly a quick grab from the 7-Eleven around the corner.

 “Looks fancy.”

 You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

 “Please,” he asks again. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

 Namjoon’s face loses its snark, and you’re curious about what could cause the man to become so serious.

 “Fine.”

 You motion with your arm towards his office, encouraging him to walk ahead. He smirks again, ah—there’s that smirk, before he turns and heads into the gorgeous corner room.

 He lingers by the door as you enter, waiting until you’ve crossed the threshold to close the door behind you. It surprises you. Something about being in a closed room with Namjoon sets you on edge. You can nearly imagine the man bending you over that fine oak desk, hiking your skirt up and spanking your ass until it’s red.

 “Coffee?” He asks as he moves towards the in-office espresso machine.

 “Are you fucking kidding me? You have a Nespresso in your office?” 

 All desperate and wanton thoughts of Namjoon sliding into you leave once you see the stainless steel contraption in the room's corner. Of course he has a $500 coffee machine in his office. He has everything you want.

 “You like it?” His question is cocky. He already knows the answer.

 “Fuck off.”

 Namjoon grins and turns the machine on, pulling out two mugs while you sip your now lukewarm coffee. It suddenly tastes disgusting.

 “So, what’s the deal, Namjoon?” You ask as he rests against the wall and waits for the coffee to brew. “You said it was important.”

 Namjoon nods, a more reserved look taking the place of his usual cocky grin on his face. His gaze turns down to his shiny dress shoes.

 “I need a favor.”

 “No.” Your answer is quick.

 Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

 “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

 “Yeah, well…,” you huff. “I’m not interested in helping you.”

 Namjoon leaves his post by his elaborate coffee maker, forgetting about the piping-hot liquid drizzling into white mugs, as he stands in front of you. There’s that fucking cologne again. Why does he have to smell so good?

 “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

 His sudden closeness to you sets your brain off—your steely resolve begins to crumble.

 “Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

 His face lights up again. God, he has such a handsome mouth.

 “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my family Christmas party.”

 If you hadn’t had such a good grip on the convenience store cup of coffee, it’d surely drop from your clutch and splatter on the expensive carpet of Namjoon’s office.

 Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

 “You—You what?!”

 Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

 “Look, I…” he struggles. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend, so she’d get off my back about it.”

 “And why am I suddenly your best option for that?!” 

 You step away from the man, determined to clear your mind as the scenario weaves its way through your head. 

 Namjoon’s girlfriend. He wants you to be his girlfriend.

 Well, his fake girlfriend.

 He would hold your hand. He would kiss you. He would touch your body in ways you convince yourself you don’t think of often. 

 “You’re the only girl I know who’s got a good enough poker face to go along with it. And honestly… you’re the only girl I really know well enough.”

 His last admission shocks you. Namjoon seems like the womanizing type—one to bring a different girl home every night.

 “That doesn’t explain why the fuck I would want to help you.”

 Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

 “If you help me, I’ll take all your shitty cases that Jin is giving you.”

 Your eyes narrow at the tall man. It seems too good to be true.

 “How d'you know about them?”

 Namjoon shrugs and grabs a mug full of freshly brewed expensive coffee.

 “I can hear you complain to Jimin about it every day.”

 You grumble under your breath, sucking on your teeth as you try to process the terms of Namjoon’s deal.

 “So you want me to be your fake girlfriend for your family…” you muse.

 “Yes,” he agrees. “And I’ll do all your worst cases for the next 2 months. I’ll even give you my next big one. I know you want that.”

 God, he’s right. That’s all you want. A chance to prove yourself to Seokjin, to the company.

 With an aggravated sigh, you relent. 

 “Fine! But it better be a good fucking case. And, I’m using your coffee maker every morning.”

 Namjoon can’t help but chuckle, loving the fire in your voice. 

 “Deal?” He murmurs.

 He holds out his hand to shake on it, and it takes you by surprise how warm and soft his large hands are once you slide your own into his grip.  

 “Deal.”

 Jimin is not going to let you live this one down.

  Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

 He’s sitting on your couch, legs crossed underneath him as he hoists his wine glass filled to the brim. He holds it away from his body as he shakes with laughter.

 “You’re telling me,” he wheezes. “That you agreed to be Namjoon’s fake Christmas girlfriend? You hate that man!”

 Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

 “Yeah, well, it was my only option. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

 “Okay, Godfather,” Jimin snickers. “Lord knows you still want to bone that man, anyway.”

 “Jimin!” You admonish. “I do not! And that wasn’t the deal!”

 He sips at his red wine with an impish smile. You hate it when Jimin looks at you like that, like he can see behind the lie you’ve so carefully crafted of your hatred for Namjoon.

 “Then tell me, what was the deal?”

 You fiddle with the stem of your own wine glass, sighing.

 “He’s offered to take all our shitty personal injury suits for the next two months. And he’s giving me his next big case.”

 Jimin actually looks surprised—as if he didn’t expect Namjoon to provide a deal so worth the cost.

 “Wow,” he breathes.

 You nod in reply, taking a large gulp of the pinot grigio in your glass.

 “You’re still going to fuck him though, I know it,” Jimin adds.

 You splutter your wine from your mouth, hand reaching over to gently slap Jimin on his taut abdomen.

 “Shut up!” You cry.

 Jimin looks proud of himself, sipping his red wine gleefully while he settles further into your couch. Wine nights with Jimin is the highlight of your weeks. Together, you bitch over cases, coworkers, dating struggles, and eat too much cheese and cured meats and nurse a hangover the following day with brunch.

 “Hey,” you say to Jimin as you set your wine down on the coffee table. “Did you ever talk to Yoongi?”

 Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

 “Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

 “Oh my god,” you groan. “Yoongi from IT. You stole my phone to call him today? To ask about my new computer?”

 Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

 “Oh. Yes, I did.”

 “And?” You encourage the blonde to answer further.

 “And he’s doing well,” Jimin replies demurely.

 “Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

 Jimin makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth and bites his lip.

 “I… might have forgotten to ask.”

 Your mouth drops open.

 “You literally stole my phone out of my hands to call him! What did you talk about?!”

 There’s his blush again. The shade of pink on Jimin’s cheeks would be adorable if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his answers.

 “I have a date tomorrow night.” He takes another sip as you let the reply sink in.

 “Oh. My. God.” You gasp, a smile now overtaking your features. “You have a crush on Min Yoongi!”

 Jimin sets his wine glass down next to yours and turns to you.

 “I had no idea if he was into me! But when I called, I totally forgot why I was calling him and we sort of just… started talking and next thing I know, he’s asking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”

 You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

 “You little slut—using my phone to get yourself a date. On company time!”

 Jimin sticks his tongue out at you, before grabbing a pillow and slapping you with the overstuffed cushion.

 “At least I didn’t agree to be his fake girlfriend!”

  It’s the sound of your phone ringing at 7:32 am that wakes you from your spot on the couch, wine glass still clutched in your hand.

 “What the fuck?” You grumble, eyes blearily seeking the offending object disturbing your sleep.

 Jimin grumbles next to you, kicking at your foot as if it will stop the phone from ringing.  

“Stop,” he whines and cuddles into his fetal position. “Turn it ooooff.”

 You locate your cell phone and groan as you recognize the name on the caller ID. Namjoon. What the fuck could he possibly be calling for? And why did he have to call at seven in the goddamn morning? 

 “What do you want?” You snap as you hold the phone to your cheek and throw yourself back onto the couch.

 “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

 Namjoon’s voice, as sexy and sultry as it sounds, still aggravates you.

 “Why are you calling me? It’s Saturday. Its seven am.”

 Namjoon chuckles and you fight the shiver that works through your spine at the sound.

 “I tend to keep human hours on the weekend.”

 You can’t hold back the sarcastic guffaw that escapes you.  

 “Okay, Mr. Perfect,” you sigh. “That doesn’t explain calling me.”

 Jimin kicks at your foot again. 

 “Stop talking,” he grumbles.

 God, Jimin is such a diva when he’s hungover.

 “Meet me at the cafe on First Street,” Namjoon says casually. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

 “Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

 “I’m literally already here. Hurry before your coffee gets cold.”

 You let out a whine that could rival a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum.

 “Fuck you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 There’s no care about your phone when you end the call and throw it to the floor.  Jimin grumbles and rubs at his eyes.

 “Why the fuck are you having phone sex with Namjoon so early in the morning?” He asks.

 “Jimin, I swear to God.”

 He wraps himself in the throw blanket and buries his face back into the couch while you stand and retreat to your bedroom to throw on some semblance of appropriate clothing for the occasion.

 “Fucking Namjoon,” you grumble under your breath as you change into jeans and a sweater. “Fuck him and his stupid, sexy face. And his unbelievable ass. And his stupid, probably enormous penis. Man, I hate him.”

 As you’re re-entering the living room and grabbing your important items (keys, wallet, lip gloss just in-case), Jimin pops his head out of his blanket cave.

 “Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly less annoyed and more pathetic. “You’re leaving me?”

 “I have to go meet Namjoon for coffee. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.”

 “You’re really going to let me suffer here? Alone? With no coffee?”

 You spin around to face your best friend, who’s giving you an absolutely soul-crushing pout and puppy eyes.

 “Yes. Call Yoongi.”

 His precious pout is wiped away, and a devious smirk takes its place.

 “Great idea!” He says as he digs around for his phone. “Be careful out there! It’s icy! Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall on Namjoon’s dick.”

 Your only reply is one singular middle finger in Jimin’s direction as you exit your apartment.

  Namjoon can’t help but smile as he sips his warm coffee. The cafe is warm and bright, despite the chill outside. 

 Things feel peaceful. Tender flakes of snow trickle down outside and frost up the shop’s window. There’s something about this time of year that strikes him down to the core. Something cozy, something warm.

 It’s odd to think this will be his first year not celebrating the holiday alone.

 Even if it is... well, fake. 

 The bell over the door chimes an arrival, and Namjoon can tell by the grumbles and grunts and stomps of snowy boots that it’s you.

 “Over here!” He calls, raising a hand and turning to face you.

 Wow, he thinks. You look gorgeous, even without trying.

 You hurry your way over to the booth and plop yourself on the opposite side, immediately lunging for the obvious mug of coffee waiting for you on the table. You don’t waste a minute gulping the liquid down your throat, then spluttering when you realize it’s still hot.

 “I thought you said it was getting cold!” You cry, airing out your burnt tongue. Namjoon can’t help but imagine that tongue sliding up and down his cock.

 Not now. Wrong time and place to get a boner.

 Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino. 

 “I got you a fresh one.”

 You make a face, but your features soften. As if you’re pleased with the idea that Namjoon cared to freshen up your cup.

 “Oh, well--”, you manage. “Thank you.”

 Namjoon doesn’t reply, but merely tips his head. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Normally, you’re both normally so wound up in aggravating the other that a moment of calm is strange, but not unwelcome.

 “So, why the early morning wake up?” You finally ask, fiddling with the handle of the mug.

 Namjoon settles his cup down.

 “We need to get to know each other. Deep shit, you know. The shit that lovers would know about each other.”

 He notices you, watches as you nibble at your lip. You try hard to hide it behind the mug you lift to your lips, but Namjoon notices. 

 “I’m hoping maybe we could spend the day together,” he adds. “I need to get some Christmas gifts for my family and… well, it’s rather lonely doing it on my own.”

 There’s a slight smile at the ends of your lips.

 “And you needed me at seven thirty in the morning to do that?”

 He stifles a laugh.

 “Like I said, I operate at regular human hours. Even on weekends,” he replies.

 With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

 “Fine,” you say. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

 He watches as you settle into the seat of the booth, hands gripping the warm mug like it’s a personal heater. He notices you’re only wearing jeans and a sweater--no properly warm clothing for the snow storm ahead. He’ll have to fix that, and soon.  

 “What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks.

 You level a look.

 “Spending it pretending to be in love with you.”

 Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

 “I meant after that.”

 You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

 “I don’t like Christmas. I don’t do much other than force Jimin to kiss me under the mistletoe and watch shitty movies with a gallon of boxed wine.”

 “Hmm,” he hums. “You’re sort of a Grinch.”

 A scowl comes over your face.

 “I am not! I just don’t buy into this whole ‘prove how much you love me by buying me things’ shit. It’s a big scheme, I tell you! Capitalist propaganda! They encourage you to spend all your money, and if you don’t, they shame and guilt you by telling you you don’t love your family enough.”

 Namjoon can’t help but laugh as you rant. It’s what makes you such a talented lawyer—your ability to feel a passion so deep within you you’re able to convince a stone-faced jury of your side.

 “Don’t laugh at me!” You cry. “I’m serious! My family doesn’t celebrate, I don’t celebrate. I’d rather just buy gifts for my loved ones when I see something they’d like. Why do we have to put a time of year on it?”

 He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

 “I suppose that makes sense,” he muses. “But you’re still a Grinch. And a Scrooge. You’ll definitely get visited by some Ghosts at midnight.”

 “Ha ha,” you snark sarcastically. “Hilarious, Namjoon. Don’t tell me you’re a big festive guy.”

 “Somewhat. It’s my Mom’s favorite holiday. It’s why she’s so bent out of shape about me having a girlfriend. Something about family and love and shit.”

 You nod, understanding him completely. Your own mother, despite her reservations towards the holiday, still makes a fuss over your single status. There must be some Mom code to obsess over your children’s woeful dating life.

 “Well, I say let’s get on with it then. Ready to hit the shops?” He asks.

 You’re mid-sip of your finally cooled coffee and you send a desperate look to the man in front of you.

“Already?!”

 “We’re burning daylight, baby.”

 Namjoon stands and you can’t help but feel a roar of flames in your belly at the pet-name. Your cheeks are surely flaming up and you admonish yourself for getting so peaked about such a trivial name.

 “Please don’t tell me we’re walking,” you murmur as you sneak a peek outside.

 The snow is falling down harder now, and you’re dreadfully underdressed for the weather.

 Namjoon tsks at your lack of outerwear, but then shakes his head.

 “No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

 You roll your eyes and grimace.

 “Of course. You have a fucking Nespresso machine and a Range Rover. Asshole.”

 Namjoon doesn’t even think about it as he grabs your hand and laces his fingers in between yours. If anyone asked, he’d say it’s practice—to familiarize himself with the way your fingers slot between his own so it’s not such a foreign concept when he does it in front of his family.

 “Yeah, but I’m your asshole now, princess.”

 Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

 Normally, you dread the lines and the crowds and the confusion and the expense.

 But with Namjoon, you relax and banter away with the tall lawyer. You’re completely at ease as you walk through crowded aisles and sort through racks of cashmere sweaters and stacks of fuzzy blankets.

 “Mom will love this, don’t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.

 You’re about to answer with an affirmative when you catch yourself. You don’t even know his mom. You’ve never met the woman. Why does it feel as if Namjoon is someone you’ve known your entire life? 

 Why do things feel so easy with him?

 “Sure, Namjoon,” you reply. “Seems like something most mother’s would be into.”

 He smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile too, one that nearly knocks you on your ass. Your body is sent into overdrive constantly. He holds your hand, he places his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a thick crowd. He calls you baby and princess and doll.

 It’s confusing.

 It’s amazing.

 You can’t tell if you love it or hate it.

 Namjoon pushes the shopping cart and walks beside you, chatting easily about his various aunts and uncles names that you likely must remember at some point but you just can’t think about anything but Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

 You hate him. He stole that corner office from you. He’s going to take the promotion you want from right under your nose. He has a goddamn Nespresso in his office and a Range Rover. 

 And yet, you can’t help but fall in place next to him and listen to him tell stories of his childhood, weaving tales of uncles who snuck him his first sips of alcohol and aunts who spoil him rotten. He’s easy to listen to, a natural story-teller. Your body feels warm, as if you’re sitting on a large hearth by a roaring fire. He’s comforting.

 It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once. 

 “And that’s when my cousin Jungkook got caught smoking cigarettes. My grandma beat our ass so bad I couldn’t sit for a day.”

 Namjoon finishes his story and turns to look at you. You’ve been staring at the man for nearly a minute straight now.

 “Hey,” his voice is soft. “You listening?”

 You shake out of the trance Namjoon’s deep voice sends you into.

 “Yeah!” You reply with a smirk. “Sounds like this Jungkook is a guy I’d like to meet.”

 Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

 “Hey, you’re my girlfriend, remember.”

 You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

 “Fake girlfriend. I’m still a single, desirable lady at the end of the day.”

 Namjoon hesitates before answering. He wants to reply something snarky, something sarcastic and witty. But he takes a moment to pause, allows himself to fully immerse himself in you. Even hungover, in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweater, you’re still an absolute catch. You’re the definition of desirable and Namjoon can’t help but allow himself to desire.

 “Hmm, is that what you call it?” He asks, now allowing the sarcasm to permeate his words. “I was thinking you’re more of the spinster, cat-lady type.”

 “Hey!” You pout as you slap at his arm. “I’m allergic to cats!”

 “But you don’t deny being a spinster.”

 “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

 He grins and pushes the carts towards the candle aisle, a sure-fire gift for his aunties.

 “In due time, my love.”

  By the time Christmas Eve arrives, you’ve spent nearly every day with Namjoon. At work, he brings you fresh coffee from his Nespresso and buys you lunch. You’ve even landed his big case, an incredibly complex lawsuit that will showcase your skills. Namjoon gives you pointers and space to talk through the case with him.

Namjoon is, in fact, simply being kind. And it unsettles you.

 Your heart and brain are at war with each other constantly. You should hate him, loathe him. He’s going to nail that promotion regardless of what you prove to Seokjin.

 But your heart tells you he deserves it. He’s an incredible attorney and has earned every ounce of respect. You want Namjoon to get that promotion just to see that smile on his face. He’d do incredible things as Seokjin’s protege to take over the firm.

 You hate to admit it, but Namjoon has melted the ice around your heart. And you’re dreading the day after all this is over, because it will be the day Namjoon stops holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your temple. It will be the day he stops pretending this is all real.

 It’s Christmas Eve and you’re sitting in Namjoon’s expensive Range Rover, plush leather seat toasty from the built-in seat warmer. You can’t help but marvel at the way the oncoming headlights brighten up Namjoon’s features as he drives you down a snowy mountain lane. They always hold the Kim family holiday party at Namjoon’s late grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, a quiet getaway for the family to gather and spend the night together to wake up on Christmas morning and gather around for presents and food.

 Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

 It’s something you’ve dreamt of often, but denied yourself any actual possibility of it. Namjoon was always out of reach, and it was easier to hate him for his success he rightfully deserved than it was to admit the feelings that were always inside.

 And now, although it’s artificial, you can’t bear to think of not spending your time with Namjoon anymore.

 You steal a glance again at him, and smile as you hear his faint humming. He loves Christmas music. You learned that early in the week during another early morning coffee and ‘get to know you’ before work. Namjoon couldn’t stop singing Mariah Carey’s classic pop song under his breath as it played over the speakers in the cafe. 

 “It’s so pretty up here,” you muse as you force your vision away from Namjoon’s gorgeous face to the snowy scenery outside. 

 The snow is falling gently, not enough to cause a blizzard but enough to make it seem like you’re trapped in a picturesque snow-globe. Leaving the city and entering the magical forest stirs an emotion inside you you hadn’t felt in some time.

 It’s Christmas Eve and there’s just something magical.

 Ugh. Unbelievable.

 Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

 He nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite place in the world, I think.”

 “I can see why,” you sigh. “It looks like a painting.”

 Namjoon glances over at you peering through the window. His heart hammers in his chest hard as your glittering eyes bounce around from tree to tree, a pretty smile on your face. The diamond ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a literal ton and he nibbles at his lip.

 He bought it for the showmanship of it all, initially. It was his first purchase he made when he set up this whole rouse.

 But now, it feels real. It feels like he’s really about to get on one knee and ask you, the girl he’s absolutely head over heels for, to marry him.

 And then it will be over.

 He’ll make up some story to tell his mom about how it didn’t work out and you’ll go back to being his coworker, and nothing more.

 Namjoon can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 Nothing more.

 He pulls into the driveway before you even have time to realize you’re there. He puts the car in park and smiles over at you. 

 He looks so cute in his puffy winter coat, hair pushed to the side and a smile that’s all dimples and cheeks.

 Fuck.

 “We’re here,” he whispers. “You ready?”

 Suddenly, the nerves of meeting your fake boyfriend’s entire family slap you right in the face. You hope that you’re a good enough actress to get Namjoon through the night and into the morning.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 He nods and squeezes your hand, an unspoken comforting ‘I got you’.

 Namjoon gathers his wrapped gifts and stacks them all in his arms, ignoring your pleas and giggles to help carry them in.

 “No, no,” he assures. “I have to make sure my mom sees me being manly and helpful.”

 As if on cue, the front door opens and Mrs. Kim is bursting out into the snowy night.

 “Namjoon!” She shrieks, completely overjoyed. The rest of the family is standing by the door, eyeing you carefully with smiles and whispers. You pray to whatever Christmas God that’s listening that you can do this.

 Namjoon sets the pile of gifts down just in time to wrap his delicate and tiny mother in his arms, hugging her tightly while she gleefully buries her face into her tall son’s chest.

 “Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

 Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

 “Missed you too, eomma.”

 The scene has you misty-eyed and you swipe at your eyes to stop the tears. There’s no way you’re ruining the fantastic makeup you did for the occasion, but the reunion of Namjoon and his mother is heart-warming. He clearly cares for his mother more than he would outwardly admit. 

 Namjoon and his mother unwrap from each other and Namjoon turns towards you.

 “Everyone, this is ____,” he breathes. “My girlfriend.”

 His mother’s gleeful squeals now turn to you, and within an instant she’s gathering you up in just as tight of a hug as she did to her son.

 “Oh, darling, we are so happy to meet you,” she beams.

 The excitement in her voice makes you feel bad—like you’re conning an old woman out of her retirement. You’re instilling a sense of hope in the kind woman, and you can’t help but send Namjoon a look as you wrap your arms around her and return the embrace. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t read.

 “I’m happy to meet you too,” you smile as you pull apart. “Thank you for letting me come.”

 “No thanks necessary,” she admonishes with a wink. “We had to beg Namjoon to bring you. It seems he wants to keep you all to himself.”

 “Eomma!” Namjoon snaps. “Be appropriate!”

 She nudges you with her elbow knowingly, which makes your cheeks flame hot, before she leads the way back into the house.

 “Come in, come in! Let’s get out of this snow.”

 Namjoon encourages you to step inside with a gentle hand at the small of your back—a touch that makes your body light up brighter than a Christmas tree.

 “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear from behind. You can feel the warmth of his lips and your body reacts.

How is it that any simple act makes you desperately horny for the man? You pray for some respite from your sexual frustration over the next day. How are you going to last over 24 hours?

 Namjoon deposits his massive haul of gifts under the tree and returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you close. He introduces you to uncles and aunts and cousins. He even introduces you to his infamous cousin, Jungkook, who smirks at you in a way that makes Namjoon pull you in closer to his body.

 “Are you doing okay?” Namjoon finally asks after the rush of relatives greeting you dies down. He turns you towards him, to face him directly with his hands on either of your shoulders. “You’re killing it.”

 You can’t help but smile. Namjoon’s family is all incredibly kind and funny. They welcome you into the family with ease and it chips away a little more each time at your heart.

 Because this is all fake. 

 One day, Namjoon really will have a girlfriend to bring to Christmas and to show off to his relatives and it won’t be you. You’ll be back at your apartment, watching shitty TV re-runs and binging on Chinese takeout, as you do every year. It’s a jab at your heart each time the bitter truth rears its ugly head.

 “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

 “Look!” Jungkook shouts. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!”

 Namjoon blushes a shade of red that likely matches a blush on your own cheeks. Sure enough, the green branches of the mistletoe taunt you from above. 

 You’ve never kissed Namjoon before. In all the skinship and closeness of the last week, you’ve still yet to close the gap to kissing the man. 

 “Oh, come on Kook, that’s a stupid tradition,” Namjoon murmurs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

 “Well, if you’re not going to do it, I’d be more than happy to take your place.”

 Jungkook wraps a loose arm around you and gives you a charming smile. He must be very popular with the ladies, you think. That’s a charming smile.

 “Hey!” Namjoon grabs for your hand and tugs you out of Jungkook’s predatory gaze. “She’s my girlfriend.”

 Namjoon looks at you for a moment, assessing your comfort level with everything about to take place. His lips look so inviting, so plush and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on the way his lips pucker so gently and naturally.

 And then it happens. Namjoon lowers his face towards you and it feels as if the world is in slow-motion. It’s happening.

 The first press of his lips is soft and conservative. You take a split second to register, but instinctively you press against his lips with determination and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

 He groans softly as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. His hands grip at your waist and bring your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitching and rising from the kiss that’s gone from innocent and playful to passionate and deep. It feels like the world around you has stopped and the only thing that matters is Namjoon, his mouth, his body against your own. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and you want more, more.

 “Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook’s voice shatters your illusion of being all alone with Namjoon. “Now you’re just showing off.”

 Namjoon pulls away from you, eyes dazed as he tries to right himself. 

 “You two are just so perfect for each other,” Namjoon’s mother says, who’s suddenly appeared in Jungkook’s place. “Let me show you your bedroom.”

 “Oh, we’re sharing?” You ask without thought. It’s a large house, with ample bedrooms surely for you to have your own space.

 Namjoon nudges you in the ribs gently, eyes widening and mouthing a ‘what the fuck do you mean?’ 

 “Of course dear, don’t be silly,” his mother replies with an eyebrow waggle and a chuckle. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He would sneak into my room after my parents went to bed and keep me up all night long. Your grandfather would ask me if I had terrible dreams that night, because I looked so tired.”

 Namjoon makes a face. “Eomma, please,” he begs. “Please don’t talk about my parents like that.”

 As his mother guides you down a long hallway, your mind is whirring with too many thoughts of Namjoon, of sharing a bedroom with Namjoon, of seeing his sleeping face and waking up next to him. It’s all too much, too overwhelming. You pray there’s a couch in the room you could sleep on, because you’re far too weak and you’d rather fight the desperation in your body than face the fact that you want nothing more than to curl right into Namjoon’s strong arms and let him hold you all night to sleep.

 Fuck.

 “Here we are!” 

 His mother opens the door with grace, and flicks on the light. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. A king sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony with a view of the sprawling snowy scene outside. It’s cozy and warm and decorated with its own Christmas tree.

 “Wow,” is all you can muster.

 “Aish, Mom,” Namjoon sighs as he drops his bags. “You didn’t need to do all of this for us.”

 Mrs. Kim holds his hand in both of hers. “Well, I know how special this Christmas is going to be,” she winks. “I want you to enjoy your time here. Now, I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Dinner is in an hour, so ‘freshen up’!”

Another wink, and Namjoon makes another face. She definitely wants grandchildren, that much is for certain.

 She closes the door behind her and you’re left standing in the room, overnight bag in hand.

 “This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

 You’ve never experienced Christmas like this—with decorations and warmth and family. It’s as if the love of the Kim family permeates the very walls of the expansive cabin, like it’s built into the foundation itself. For a moment, you allow yourself to soak it all in. This is all yours. It’s your Christmas and you finally understand why so many make such a fuss over it. The results are nothing short of remarkable.

 “Yeah, she really does the most,” Namjoon laughs. 

 He takes the bag from your hand without your notice and you step towards the balcony to peer into the night. The landscape looks as if everything has been covered in soft marshmallow. The snow is untouched—picture perfect.

 “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

 Namjoon settles your bag and his on the bed, watching as you soak in your own wonder. The smile on your face is not one he sees often, one of pure joy. Namjoon swallows hard as he realizes he wants to be the one to always put that smile on your face.

 “Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

 You turn from the still-life view outside and back to Namjoon, where he stands at the foot of the bed. He looks so different outside the office. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a flannel shirt, his puffy jacket hanging by the door. No cream suit, no slicked back hair or shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Just simply Namjoon.

 He’s no longer the man who steals the limelight in the office. He’s no longer the man you see as your adversary or your rival.

 He’s the man who’s showing you the magic of Christmas, the spirit of love and kindness that embodies the season.

 He’s the man you’ve fallen in love with.

 And yet, he’s the man who will leave once this is over and return to his proper life, and you to yours. He’ll return to sleeping with models and movie starlets, and you’ll return to binge watching Great British Bake-Off with Jimin and a carton of Chicken Tikka Masala.

 And Christmas will never feel as special as it does now. 

 So, you’re determined to soak in it for a little longer. It’s going to hurt regardless, so why not push that hurt off until tomorrow and allow yourself to pretend you live the lie you’re spinning for Namjoon’s family?

 “I think I’ll just freshen up and change into my dinner outfit, then?” You ask out loud, grabbing for your overnight bag and heading towards the ensuite.

 Namjoon, who expected a witty retort, takes a moment to reply.

 “Oh,” he coughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll err—, I’ll just get ready out here.”

 You quickly escape into the bathroom, closing the door and resting on it as you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

 The tension in the bedroom with Namjoon was too thick, too powerful, especially after the kiss you just shared. His cock had been there, straining in his jeans as you licked into his mouth. The kiss felt so natural, as if you had always kissed Namjoon like that. Your heart beats loud and hard in your chest just from the thought of it.

 You really needed to get a handle over yourself. You still have dinner to get through, and an entire night in a bedroom with Namjoon. A bed with Namjoon.

 No, you won’t allow yourself to go that far. You can pretend you’re his girlfriend, but all thoughts of his delectable body doing scintillating things to yours is strictly off-limits. You shake all thoughts of a thick, heavy cock sliding into your mouth and warm hands spreading you open, and set about fixing your makeup and changing into the gorgeous cocktail dress you purchased for the occasion. It wasn’t often you got to get dressed up. The emerald green velvet dress clings to your body and highlights your curves. It’s a sexy dress, definitely, but also appropriate for a formal evening with your boyfriend’s parents.

 Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

 After fixing your hair and buckling your heels, you take one last glimpse in the mirror for good luck and exit the room.

 Your breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you see Namjoon. 

You’ve seen him dressed up for court and for TV appearances millions of times, but you’ve never seen him like this.

 He wears a blood red button up without a tie, a few buttons open to emphasize the casual look, tucked into the tightest and sexiest slacks you’ve ever seen. They hug his thighs and sit at a spot on his waist that you just know is rippling with cut lines from his work in the gym. His hair is tucked back with a bit of hairspray, and he’s fixing the sleeves of his shirt when he sees you.

 His eyes widen and his hands fall to his sides as he soaks in your appearance.

 An absolute vision.

 He can see the gentle valley between your breasts and the way your dress pushes up your cleavage and displays your collar.  The dress follows the delicate curve of your waist and hips and ends at your knee, but teases him with a glimpse of thigh that has him wiping his mouth in case he’s drooling. 

 “You look incredible,” Namjoon murmurs as you step closer.

“So do you.”

 You swallow hard as he continues closer to you, breathing harshly as he stands right in front of you. You could reach out and unbuckle his expensive slacks and fist his cock right there. You’d fall on your knees for him, if he asked.

 There’s a moment of silence as Namjoon’s face inches closer and closer to your own, each unable to verbalize just how desperate either of you feel for the other.

 “Namjoon, I—,” you start. You want to tell him. You want to tell him everything—that you don’t want this to be fake, that you want this to be real, and you want to be his and his forever.

 “Yes?”

 You swallow hard, shaken by just how close his lips are to yours. He’s inches away and all you can focus on is the way his plush lips look and how well they fit against your own under the mistletoe.

 “I just—, I really um, I’m just very…” 

 You’re not making sense. Comprehension of language is quickly soaring out the window because the only words you know are ‘Please, for the love of God, kiss me and make me yours’, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them out loud.

 Namjoon’s hand cups your cheek, as if he can tell what you’re trying to say.

 “Yeah,” he breathes. The inches between you turn to centimeters, to bare millimeters. Your eyes flutter close as you feel his breath dance over your lips and your heart beats so loud you’re sure the entire household can hear it. He’s right there and moves in to close the distance—

 “Knock Knock!!”

 The forceful, cheery voice of cousin Jungkook forces both of you to jump away from each other as if you’ve touched a burning stove. Your head feels light, like you’ve forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes and you’ve suddenly taken in too much air.

 The wooden door squeaks open and Jungkook pokes his head in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Auntie sent me to get you. It’s dinnertime!”

 Namjoon rubs his face frustratedly. “Yes, thank you, Jungkook.”

 Jungkook doesn’t leave, however. He smiles at you and winks. 

“Would you like an escort to dinner, madame? You look tastier than the roast beef downstairs.”

 A blush creeps over your cheeks as Namjoon storms to the door where his cousin laughs.

 “That’s enough, Kook. We’ll be down in a minute.”

 He sends you one more grin, then retreats from the door and closes it behind him.

 “Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for—Jungkook, or the moment before.

 “It’s alright. Let’s go?”

 Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

 “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

  Dinner with the Kim family is as delightful as every other interaction with them has been. They’re polite and funny and ask questions about your life and your family.

 They ask how you met Namjoon (at work), what your favorite quality about him is (his smile and his ass), and what your first date together was (coffee at seven in the morning).

 You tell stories of Namjoon in the office, of your best friend Park Jimin who’s secretly trying to date the IT manager, of your parents and Christmases past.

 By the time dessert is served, Namjoon’s mother looks at you as if you’ve put the very stars in the sky.

 Namjoon doesn’t miss that look either. He can see the way his family is falling in love with you and somewhere deep in his stomach, he feels the guilt rising. All of this is a lie. Not only is he going to break his own heart, but every heart of his family member’s too. 

 “We’re all just so overjoyed that Namjoon has found someone to share his life with,” his mom speaks softly. It’s the first time she’s been thoughtful and quiet. She’s a woman who’s larger than life, you’ve found, so the softness in her tone strikes a chord. “You’re absolutely perfect for him. I’ve never seen him happier.”

 Fuck. 

 “Thank you,” you murmur sincerely to his mother. “I’ve never been happier.”

 Namjoon peers up from where he’s been pushing around his uncle’s famous chocolate cake on his plate to watch as you speak.

 “Truthfully, I never cared much for Christmas. I thought it was a rubbish holiday and spent it alone every year with a bottle of wine and some takeout. Namjoon really changed that for me,” you smile at the man and place your hand in his lap to hold his free hand. “He showed me more about Christmas in one week than I’ve felt in my entire life.”

 Namjoon’s mom wipes away an errant tear and he squeezes your hand under the table.

 “I guess the Grinch’s heart has grown 3 sizes, after all.”

 Namjoon’s joke lightens the soft mood, and suddenly there’s chatter around as the family members move about to wash dishes and clean up the mess of dinner. Everyone leaves the table except for you and Namjoon.

 “That was some good acting,” he whispers with a sad smile.

 “Right,” you whisper back, nibbling your lip anxiously. “Acting, of course.”

  You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

 Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

 And sharing a bed is another.

 And of course, the only pajamas you thought to bring tonight is a very sexy long shirt that says “no coffee, no talking” with a bedazzled pair of shushing lips. That’s it. Just a single shirt. Not even a pair of shorts or pajama pants.

 You slip into the bed first, as far onto one side of it as possible. It’s a king sized bed, and it still feels too intimate, too close.

 Namjoon exits the bathroom after his shower, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas, leaving his bare chest on display.

 Sweet lord in heaven, you nearly cry out loud. He’s absolutely ripped, pecs defined and droplets of water from his hair streaming down. You want to chase each drop with your tongue and circle back again. You shut your eyes tight and clench your teeth. Why, oh why, does he have to look so fucking sexy at a time like this?

 Namjoon sees you at the edge of the bed, shutting your eyes closed like you’re a shy schoolgirl afraid to see a naked man’s body. He feels guilty for making you be here. He knows you’ve likely got better things to do than spend time with a man you openly hate.

 “I’m sorry,” he apologizes for nothing in particular. 

 You ignore it. Instead, you’re trying to think of every un-sexy thing in the world you can possibly imagine. Taxes, a bunch of bees, old people, shark attacks.

 There’s absolutely nothing that can stop the image of Namjoon’s perfectly sculpted body from bursting into your mind. You’re nearly pleading with yourself to just go to sleep and contemplate how hard you’d need to hit your head to knock yourself out as fast as possible.

 “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says as he grabs a small throw blanket from the closet and throws it to the ground by the fire.

 It snaps you from your musings of how best to forget how badly you want to suck Namjoon’s cock through his pajama pants.

 “What?” You sit up in the posh bed and finally make eye-contact. “Why? It’s freezing. There’s a literal snowstorm outside.” You motion to the window of the balcony. What was once a gentle snowfall is now a full-on winter storm.

 “There’s a fire. I’ll be fine, I sleep hot anyway.” Namjoon’s voice is low and without energy. He almost sounds sad.

 God, is being with you that hard for him? You know you’re just the artificial replacement until he has the real thing, but you’d actually hoped Namjoon had found it as comforting and warm as you had.

 “Namjoon,” you sigh. “This is a king-sized bed. You don’t need to be waking up with back pain because you gallantly slept on the floor.”

 To emphasize your point, you tug back the blankets on the other side, beckoning him to join.

 He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s weighing the pro’s and con’s and sliding into bed next to you in his mind, then stands and pads his way on the plush carpet towards the bed and slips in.

 There’s an entire football field of distance between you two in the bed, but it feels like he’s right beside you. You imagine sliding in right next to him, wrapping your arms around his taut chest and pressing soft kisses to his stomach.

 You squeeze your eyes closed again. Stop it, you horny slut.

 “Thank you, again.” Namjoon breaks the silence. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

 “Yeah,” you swallow hard. “Of course. What else was I going to do? Jimin’s probably sucking Yoongi’s dick right now, so I’d be watching baking shows alone.”

 Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

 “You know, I don’t even really want that promotion at work.”

 You’re surprised by the sudden change in topic, but you turn over to face Namjoon.

“What?! Really?”

 Namjoon nods and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m that good of an attorney to get it, anyway.”

 His statement makes you sit up in bed again, staring at the man in disbelief.

 “Are you fucking kidding me, Namjoon? You’re the best lawyer in the firm.”

 Namjoon says nothing, just turns to stare at you curiously as you continue.

 “You’re like… literally better than Seokjin, too. The way you handled the Taehyung case was nothing short of historical. Like, that was an impossible case, and you nailed it. That was your ‘OJ’ case, you know?”

 Namjoon barks a laugh.

 “My what?”

 “Your OJ case!” You use your hands to emphasize the importance of what you’re saying. “Like, they’ll write about you and how impossible the odds were of winning that case. And you won it! Not even Seokjin could have won that case.”

 He’s silent again, watching as you speak directly from your heart with all the fire and passion you feel about the things you care about. It’s what makes you such an incredible lawyer, too.

 “Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

 You settle back down from your excitement, suddenly bashful at how fanatical you became.  

 “You’re welcome,” you murmur. “You deserve that promotion. And the office.”

 Namjoon smirks.

 “And the Nespresso?”

 Your eyes narrow and send a glare to him he can see even with the faintest of light in the room.

 “No, no one deserves the Nespresso, except for me.”

 He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

 “Goodnight,” he whispers.

 “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

 There’s a beat of silence and your eyes flutter shut easily. It’s quiet, and all you can hear is the crackle of the log in the fireplace and the wind blowing past the balcony windows as the storm outside rages.

 “Oh,” Namjoon whispers again. “And, Merry Christmas.”

 You can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

 “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

  “Happy Christmas!” A voice bellows through your bedroom at approximately seven fifteen am.

 You groan, immediately grimacing and burying your face into your firm, warm pillow.

 “Nooooo,” you whine, trying to hide from the offending noise.

 Namjoon shakes awake, and notices Jungkook standing at the bedroom door once again.

“It’s time for presents!” He giddily explains. “And, they gave me the job of waking you two up.”

 “Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

 “You look a little wrapped up,” Jungkook smirks, eyeing your sleeping body. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t get distracted.”

 Namjoon rolls his eyes and watches as the door closes, before he turns his attention towards you.

 Somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve scooched yourself to his side of the bed and draped your body around his. Your face is buried in his chest and your legs are haphazardly intertwined in his own.

 He bites his lip. His cock is rock solid, not just from his usual morning wood, but from the way he can feel your tits through your shirt, and from the sight of your pink panties. Namjoon wants to take them off with his teeth and bury his face in your delicious cunt, and his cock is nearly screaming at him to get on with it.

 “Hey,” he whispers to you, actively ignoring the demon that is his turgid length. “Wake up.”

 This causes you to cling harder to his chest, rubbing your sleepy face on him.

 “What is it with you and early mornings?” You ask, blearily raising your head to peer at him judgementally.

 Namjoon bites his lip, curious about your reaction to the tight embrace you’ve got on him. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to break the spell. Frankly, he wants to push your sleep shirt up and stuff you full of his cum.

 “Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

 You take a full minute to recognize what’s happening.

 You’re no longer on your edge of the bed. You’re wrapped around the man like a koala, legs strewn over him without care and clinging to him like he’s a lifeline.

 “Oh!” You gasp as you jerk out of his grasp. 

 In your movement, your leg brushes over an obvious tent in Namjoon’s pants, making him groan softly. You shut your eyes, embarrassed at how disgustingly horny you are for the man who’s not even interested in you sexually.

 “Christ, I’m so sorry,” your cheeks flame bright red and you scoot further from him.

 “No, no, don’t be,” Namjoon wheezes as he tries to fix himself. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s great. It happens. Don’t worry.”

 He continues to stammer out reassurances as he leaves the bed and bolts into the bathroom to fix his unruly tented pants, leaving you sitting atop the bed washed with shame.

 “Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you rub at your cheeks. “Get a grip of yourself.”

 Inside the bathroom, it only takes Namjoon a few fisted jerks of his cock and the mental image of you beneath him, begging for him, until he’s silently cumming on an expensive towel. He bites his free hand to stifle the moans he makes as his cock pulses.

 By the time he arrives back in the bedroom, you’ve changed into a hoodie and yoga leggings that accentuate your ass so delectably that Namjoon thinks about turning right back into the bathroom for a second round.

 “I’m sorry!” You nearly shout when he walks into the room. “About the bed. You were warm and I was cold. That’s all.”

 Nmajoon simply nods, doesn’t want to have to explain how he wishes he could wake up like that every day. Doesn’t want to describe in vivid detail how he’d wake you up with his tongue buried deep in your cunt.

 “Let me grab a shirt and we’ll head out, yeah?”

 Your eyes dance over the defined ridges of his body, a little crest-fallen at the idea that this might be the last time you see him shirtless, but you nod anyway.

 “Yeah.”

The ring box sits in a deceptively large box beneath the tree. Namjoon wrapped it last night and hide it at the very back. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as his family passes around gifts and opens each with squeals of delight.

 His mother gave him new ties for the office, ones that Namjoon prefers. She’s even gifted you with jewelry, which makes your eyes water at the sentiment.

 It all begins to be too much. It’s harder and harder to hold back the tears as each of Namjoon’s family members gives you gifts. It doesn’t matter the value, not at all. The fact that they specifically set out to include you in their gift-unwrapping makes your heart snap in two.

 This is all too much, it’s too real.

 It’s everything you never dreamed you could have. A loving partner who lets you sit in the space of his legs and rubs your arms soothingly. A family who goes out of their way to include you in the abundance of love and company. A cabin so warm and cozy.

 The tears don’t stop.

 It’s at the end of the gift exchange that you finally allow yourself to breathe. 

 “There’s one more,” Namjoon whispers as he moves from behind you and fetches a large box from behind the tree. “It’s for you, princess.”

 Curiously, and suspiciously, you eye him as he sets the enormous gift in your lap. You had done nearly all his Christmas shopping with him, and can’t remember a single thing he would have gotten for you.

 “I hope it’s the Nespresso from your office,” you snark with a smile. His family members all laugh and exchange knowing looks to each other.

 Namjoon doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches as you begin to carefully unwrap the large box, which reveals another box, slightly smaller. He can’t help but grin as you continue to unwrap the nesting-doll style gift until you’re down to the smallest one, the one that holds the ring box.

 With one last tear of paper, your eyes widen as you recognize the velvet box.

 “Oh--,” you breathe as you delicately pry open the gift.

 Inside sits a dazzling and gorgeous diamond ring. It catches the light from the fire and sparkles like a firecracker.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper as the tears flow again.

 He’s proposing.

 Namjoon settles himself onto one knee and tucks an errant piece of hair behind your ears.

 “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew from day one that you were always the girl I wanted to marry,”

 Namjoon’s speech sends daggers to your heart. He’s so convincing for something so counterfeit. 

 “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, much longer than we’ve been together. You’re who I want to come home to every night, and who I want to wake up with every morning.”

 It hurts. It hurts so badly that you’re crying even harder as he continues to speak. His family must think you’re simply overcome with emotion and love that the crying doesn’t give it away, but inside you’re absolutely dying.

 There’s no way you can recover from this.

 Tomorrow, Namjoon will take the ring back to where he got it from and return to what he had before. He’ll leave you behind, broken and hopelessly in love with a man who faked a relationship so well that you fell for it, hard.

 “____, will you marry me?”

 You take several large, gulping gasps to reply. You can’t shatter the illusion. Namjoon’s parents are weeping with joy, while his relatives record the moment on their phones and wipe away errant tears. Even Jungkook looks soft, proud of his cousin for taking the next step in his life.

 Oh, how you wish this were all real.

 “Yes,” you lie with a smile. “Yes, Namjoon, of course!”

 Namjoon grins and pulls you to standing, gathering you in his arms as he hugs you tight. His family cheers and hollers in the background, and you sob into his shoulder as you cling to him.

 He easily slides the diamond ring out of the box and onto your finger, where it sits and taunts you. The weight is heavy, and you whimper at the realization that this will never be for you. It will sit atop a pretty model’s finger sometime soon, when Namjoon resumes his regular life.

 “Oh, my darlings, I am so happy for you!” Namjoon’s mother appears and wraps you both in a hug, weeping and kissing cheeks. “We must discuss planning!”

 It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The tears and weeping turn to wracking sobs, which quiets the family as they watch you hold your face in your hands.

 “I’m sorry,” you apologize through your grief. “I—I just need a moment.”

 Without another word, you turn from the scene and bolt back towards the bedroom.

 It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

 This must be too much for you, too much for you to pretend to love him. He knew it was too much and he should have discussed it with you beforehand.

 “She’s just a little err--,” Namjoon tries. “Easily emotional. I’ll go check on her.”

 His family understands as Namjoon hurries towards the bedroom and gently opens the door.

 You’re sitting over your overnight bag, trying to shove any clothing into it you can, while you sob openly.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have told you. I sort of... told my mom I’d be proposing to my girlfriend.”

 There’s pain in your eyes as you snap your head up to look at him. It nearly destroys him.

 “You should have warned me!” You gasp. “Namjoon, I can’t do this.”

 Namjoon lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets of his pajama pants.

 “I get it. I know you want to go back to your regular life. I can take you home now.”

 You’re silent for a moment, standing and moving towards the man.

 “Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

 He raises his head to look at you curiously, brow knitted together with confusion.

 “I’m in love with you, you asshole!” You cry, pushing at his chest. “I can’t continue to pretend this is real anymore. I love you, I absolutely love you and I can’t go on watching you pretend you love me too. It’s too much for me to handle.”

 Namjoon’s world freezes in time as he watches you slide the ring off your finger. He grasps your hand to stop you, his eyes boring into your own.

 “I never had to pretend.”

 Before you can speak, Namjoon cups your cheek and pulls you in close, mouth sealing over your own in a desperate kiss.

 You don’t fight it, not at all. You sink into his grasp and kiss him back with fervor, with all the pent-up emotions you’ve held back all this time.

 “I’m in love with you,” he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss. “I meant every single word I said.”

 More tears stream down your cheeks, and Namjoon is quick to wipe them away with his thumb.

 “I know it’s maybe too soon for us to really be engaged, but I—I want that, with you,” he adds. “I want you to be my girlfriend… for real.”

 “Are you being serious right now?” You ask as your hands cling to Namjoon’s waist.

 He can’t help but to laugh, nodding in reassurance as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

 “Never been more serious in my life.”

 “I can’t believe you’re mine,” Joon murmurs into the nape of your neck.

 You were supposed to be driving home to your apartment now, back to real life, but the snowstorm raged on and Namjoon decided it might be best to spend yet another night in the cabin. Together. As a couple. A real couple.

 You didn’t put up much of a fight.

 He’s pressing soft kisses into your tender skin as he closes the door to the bedroom.

  “All mine, all mine.” He chants it like a mantra. 

 You’re trying to maneuver your way into the dark bedroom, only guided by the light from the fireplace. Namjoon stops you and pulls away from your neck, eyes soaking in every inch of you.

 “You have no idea what I’ve been dying to do to you,” he speaks after a moment of appreciating your beauty.

 “Hmm, I think I have some idea,” you say, a finger at Namjoon’s chest, directing him towards the bed. “I’ve been dying to suck your cock, Joon,” you whisper in his ear as he makes his way backwards. “Will you let me?”

 Namjoon nods in a daze as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you kneel. Your eyes are full of hope, full of lust. It makes his cock harden further.

 “Please do,” he breathes. “I’ve wondered what you’d look like with your mouth full of my dick.”

 You smile as you tug at his flannel pajama pants, pulling them down thick thighs and calves until they’re completely off. Your mouth waters at the sight before you. Namjoon’s cock is thick, head weeping with pre-cum and straining hard against his taut chest. He’s been working out more, you can tell. His arms are full and strong, and his chest is so firm and defined. 

 He’s an entire three-course meal.

 Before you move closer to his cock, Namjoon stops you.

 “Take your shirt off.”

 You comply easily, already settling well into an obedient role. He discards the shirt to the side and marvels at your breasts. He can’t wait to mark them up, suck them until you’re crying.

 “Perfect,” he sighs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

 He allows you to resume your work, eyeing the length of his cock before wrapping a hand around it and gently pumping.

 “Shit,” he breathes as his head falls back. “I’ve dreamt about how it’d feel having my cock in your hands.”

 “What else have you dreamed about?” You ask with a teasing smile, bringing your lips to the tip to paint tiny stripes. He tastes salty, somewhat earthy, and the pre-cum that’s gathered at the top gets swept up by your tongue. 

 Namjoon can’t believe how lucky he is. Can’t believe how incredible it feels to have you here, licking at his cock like a lollipop. He’s enchanted by the way your delicate tongue swirls around his head, testing and teasing.

 “You look so good, princess,” he whispers as he tucks stray hair behind your ears. 

 You’re encouraged by his sweet-talk and soon descend to take his cock fully in as far as you can go. You’re definitely out of practice, but you steel yourself up to take him completely to the back of your throat. Namjoon’s desperate moans and cursing only encourages you further.

 Soon enough, you’ve started a rhythm of bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and pumping your hand down his thick length. The noises leaving your mouth are sinful—slurping and sucking and whining around him. Namjoon’s got a hand on the back of your head, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail and coaxing your bouncing head further down his cock.

 “Oh, shit, baby,” he grits through a tight jaw. “I’m gonna cum baby girl, fuuuuckkk—oh god, yes baby, just like that.”

 You slurp and swallow around his cock as much as you can, head bobbing at a frantic pace while you cast your eyes upwards to the man to watch him come apart. He meets your eye contact and loses it at the fire burning in your beautiful eyes.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps as his cock pulses. “Cumming, baby—ohhhh, shit, take it all, baby.”

 After slowing your pace completely, you sweetly moan around his length as his salty cum splatters on your tongue. Bringing Namjoon to climax with your mouth is already one of your favorite hobbies, and you’re desperate to do it again.

 When he’s completely spent in your mouth, you pop off carefully and present your tongue to your boyfriend, who smiles.

 “You gonna swallow my cum, baby girl?” He asks, cupping your cheek sweetly.

 You nod in reply, and he groans as he watches you close your mouth and visibly swallow his load.

 “Fuck, that was so hot. Fucking kiss me already,” he demands, pulling you up gently by the hand and pressing his mouth to yours. He doesn’t care if he can taste himself still lingering in your mouth. In fact, he thinks your mouth should always taste like him.

 Namjoon holds you close as he kisses you, tongue diving around and seeking purchase in your mouth. His hands are roaming your body, cupping your breasts and caressing your curves. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t think there will come a time in his life when he won’t love touching you.

 His hand smoothes over the satin of your panties and he smirks into the kiss as he feels how wet they are.

 “Oh my,” he tuts as he rubs at your clothed slit. “All this from sucking my cock, princess?”

 It’s too late to be ashamed of it. You simply nod and whimper as his thick fingers rub at your core. You’re dying to feel those fingers inside you, scissoring you open to prepare you for his massive cock.

 “P-please,” you gasp, needing more of him. “Please, Joon.”

 He lets out a breath of contentment, loving the way his name sounds in your breathy moans. In one quick swoop, he flings your panties off and onto the floor and slides down to his knees where you knelt moments before.

 “I want to see this pretty pussy up close,” he murmurs as he lays you out at the edge and spreads open your thighs as wide as he can. 

 You’re gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering. He licks his lips as he watches your folds drip with arousal and takes a delicate finger to trace the slit gently.

 “Fuck,” you gasp as he swirls his finger around your sensitive clit. It’s been so long since someone else has made you orgasm, you’re sure you won’t last a second with the man of your sexual dreams face-first in your cunt.

 “This is my pussy now,” he states as he leans in close and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. “I’m going to make you cum every fucking night, baby. Gonna claim this cunt as my own.”

 You’re trembling from his words and his actions as he soon buries his face into your pussy and eats as if he’s a man starved. His tongue swirls around your hole before swiping up to your clit, making your back arch and keen off the bed. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit and sucks gently, lewd noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom.

 “Namjoon!” You squeal as he slides two of his fingers inside you and slowly pumps. They’re thick and perfect, and they’re better than you could have ever dreamed.

 “Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes as he licks at your clit. “I know you want to.”

 He’s right. You’re desperate for it and the string inside your belly that tightens with each thrust of his solid fingers has it nearing a snapping point.

 Namjoon speeds up, adds a third finger and fucks into you like a man on a mission. He watches your face pinch in agonized delight and is hypnotized by the way your tits bounce with each thrust up. His cock is rock solid again, aching to bury itself deep inside your womb and coat you with his cum.

 “That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes as he watches your body quiver. “Cum on my fingers, let daddy see you fall apart.”

 He presses his lips to your clit one last time and sucks, and it sends you reeling over the edge into bliss. Namjoon moans as he feels your cunt convulse and squeeze his fingers as if they’re his cock, and he nearly whines at how good it’s going to feel when he’s balls deep inside of you.

 “Fuck!” You cry as your back lifts off the bed and your legs shake. “Oh, my god!”

 Namjoon kitten licks at your pussy as you come down, cleaning up the juices that coat his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does it, sucking up your essence like it’s an expensive wine he won’t waste a drop of.

 “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as you try to catch your breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my office.”

 The smile on your face turns lustful as you spread your legs open once again and present yourself to him.

 “Why don’t we practice right now?”

 Namjoon grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few pumps as he stares at your gorgeous body—laid out and ready for him.

 “Merry Christmas to me,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your lips and lines himself up.

 In one swift motion, he slips inside your juicy channel and buries himself to the hilt. You’re so wet and warm and tight that Namjoon falters and groans out loud.

 “Holy shit,” he cries. “Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.”

 Namjoon filling you up to the brim is something you’ve only ever dreamt of, and now that it’s happening you feel intoxicated. He’s so thick inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could handle, and the burn is so sweet.

 “Fuck me, Joon,” you beg as he continues to still inside you. “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

 It’s the magic word for Namjoon and instantly he’s snapped back to feral, ready to claim you as his own. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, delighted by the squelching juicy sounds of your cunt as he takes you.

 “That’s right, baby girl, I’m your fucking daddy,” he grunts. “Take this fat cock for daddy.”

 Your legs quiver with each thrust and Namjoon sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently on the bud which makes your body thrum with electricity. He’s marking you, claiming you inside and out, you realize. You whine and keen for him to continue, and Namjoon growls as he doubles his pace. 

 He thrusts into you without abandon, desperately seeking his release that will have him spilling his cum anywhere he possibly can.

 “Mmm, look at my pretty princess,” he groans as he stares at your blissed-out face. “Taking daddy’s cock so good, being a perfect little slut.”

 His words make your eyes roll back into your head. You’d never had someone speak so nasty to you while being so kind and praise-worthy that you don’t think you can now ever live without it.

 “G-gonna cum, daddy!” you cry as you feel your body nearing the edge. “Please let me cum!”

 Namjoon gasps for air and drops a thumb to your clit to rub circles on the sensitive bundle.

 “Yes, baby girl, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock, princess.”

 Namjoon’s unrelenting pace and thumb handily stroking your clit brings you to the end, sending you screaming into orgasmic delight.

 Namjoon nearly weeps at how good your cunt feels convulsing around his cock, walls coaxing him and gripping him tight as if your pussy is begging for his own release. 

 “Cum inside me daddy, please,” you beg as you try to catch your breath. 

 Namjoon needs no more permission. He gasps as your channel tightens around him impossibly and sends him into his own release. He whimpers as his cock pulses with ferocity, loads of cum splattering your walls.

 He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath.

 “Holy shit,” you gasp as you feel yourself returning to Earth.

 Namjoon laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, before nodding.

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage.

 After a few shuddering breaths, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s naked body and hold him close, as close as you can.

 “If this is what Christmas is all about, sign me up.”

 Namjoon buries his face into your neck and kisses you sweetly, before lifting and giving you a playful smile.

 “I guess all Scrooge needed was a good fuck. Dickens got that part all wrong.”

Returning to work after the New Year was easier this year than it had ever been in your career.

 Namjoon was given the promotion. He told Seokjin he wanted to keep his corner office near you because he “likes the view”, and that he would give all his top cases to the best lawyer in the office—you.

 Jimin won’t stop screaming when he sees the diamond ring on your finger. You haven’t wanted to take it off since the moment you put it on. Maybe it’s not an engagement ring quite yet, maybe it’s just more of a promise. Either way, Jimin is ecstatic and confused as he shakes you down for answers.

 He walks with you to your desk, chattering away about his week with Yoongi, while you sip your convenience store coffee.

 “What the fuck?” Jimin asks as he notices something on your desk. “What is that?”

 As you round the corner, your eyes catch sight of a gleaming silver contraption on your desk, right next to your brand new computer.

 A Nespresso.

 A smile crosses your lips as you approach the expensive machine and notice a folded up card on top.

 Inside, the card is simple.

 “To the only girl in the world who deserves a Nespresso. Love, Namjoon.”

taglist - @ardoren​ @devilion14​ @bykookie​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @holynamtiddies​ @thejooncrew​ @dee-ehn​ @yrc1963 @fireheart2003​

[33roda]

Kaeya X Dom!Reader <3

tags: tiddy sucking (m!receiving), butt fingering, (m!receiving), brat taming kinda, gn!reader I think !!

____________________________________

Yet another exhausting Abyss Order attack, finally over with.

It was a quite difficult one at that, having required a whole army of knights at the gates of Mondstadt, so Kaeya invited the team to a drink at Angel's Share, out of all places. Even after all the energy that used up, he's still in the mood for drinks?

Well, that didn't matter anyway, because either way, you would've been forced to go either by Kaeya or by Lisa. You sat quietly next to Kaeya, listening to him chat with the other knights.

"Ah, another success.. Of course, we couldn't have done it without our Honorary Knight here," he chatted, sounding as sarcastic as ever. "You truly are a new storm after all."

He rested his hand on your shoulder while holding up his third glass of sparkling wine of the night, chuckling at how Amber was already tipsy after one sip of beer. Jean held her up, furrowing her eyebrows tightly, looking for where Lisa went. Probably off to flirt with the new naive bartender. Everyone's enjoying their time here while she had to babysit Amber and Lisa?

"Of course, Y/N. It is truly an honor to celebrate this with our new Honorary Knight." she stumbled as she continued holding up Amber and wiping her drool with napkins, her slurring drowned out by the noises in the background. You let out a polite smile, showing your appreciation to everyone on the table.

"Thank you, Grand Master. It was a pleasure working with you today." The table was awkward. Too formal, too stiff, but Kaeya didn't seem to mind it, just smirking and slowly sipping on his wine. You almost started wondering and fantasizing about when it'd be time to leave, but as soon as you thought of that, you felt Kaeya's hand slide off your shoulder and started gently caressing your thighs. Ah, expected. Of course there had to be an ulterior motive to his invitation, not that you minded. Taking advantage of the loud, distracting chatter in the background, he ducked his head next to your ear just enough so you could feel his hot breath against it.

"You sure look bored, Y/N. Quite rude of you to not respect etiquette," he whispered against your ear and chuckled. "I have something more fun for you later. Meet me outside the bar once the rest leave."

Ha. Finally, something interesting this night. You had nothing to lose anyway, so why not entertain his request? his actions motivating you to just get the night over with, you try to be more friendly with Jean to lessen the tenseness in the air, her unaware of the touching and groping exchanged between you and Kaeya underneath the table.

Lisa would never seem to return, and Jean eventually got tired of the Outrider hiccuping and slurring on her words next to her, deciding it was best for everyone to just go home. Exchanging goodbyes to everyone, Kaeya escorted them outside, looking back and shooting you a wink and a smug smile before leaving the tavern. Oh what you'd do to wipe that smug smile off his face, and you'd be sure to do just that tonight. You started packing up your stuff, taking your sweet time with it, thinking about how you're keeping The Cavalry Captain waiting. You can already picture how he'll be squirming and begging to be touched.. What a pretty sight, you thought, as you exit the tavern door to be greeted with silence for a second; then the husky voice of a grumpy-looking Kaeya.

"Took ya long enough, Honorary Knight," he raised an eyebrow, waiting for an excuse or an apology, getting a figurative slap in the face when he got teasing instead.

"Oh, so sorry, Captain, did my touch make you so needy in there you couldn't wait for a few minutes?," you cooed, giving him as much of a smug smile as he was giving you earlier.

"Hm," he scoffed. Resistance? from a new knight like you? that's new. He was known to be irresistible, to both men and women, being all dolled up with his fancy fur and chains. At least he still has you in his hands, he thought.

Thank Barbatos the streets were empty ‒ if anyone saw you leading the Captain to your house in the dead of the night, the rumours would not sound pretty for either of you. But rumours were the least of your concerns, being in your room with Kaeya holding you against the wall and leaning down to whisper in your ear as you twirled his ponytail in your fingers from behind.

"Getting you here was easier than expected, Y/N," he taunted, "I'm starting to think you've wanted this for some time."

"In your dreams," you looked up at him. To be honest, he was a very attractive man - looking down at you with half lidded eyes and that smirk that never seemed to fade. He shot down to kiss you, but it was too early, you thought. He had to earn it. You grabbed his ponytail, forcing him to throw his head back and expose his pretty little neck to you. His eyes going wide as you started tracing circles on his exposed chest - now that was a sight to appreciate. Funny, he's the captain yet his skin felt smooth and silky against your calloused hands.. now you understand why he liked showing it off so bad. Switching hands to grab him by the face, you snickered, "It seems like you've been the one planning this, Sir Kaeya. Actually, how about you let me be your master tonight, hm?"

"You think it's that easy? Insulting of you, Y/N," you raised an eyebrow at the disobedience, even with your hands grabbing his cheeks, his words coming out slurred. Should've expected that from a smug fuck like Kaeya. "Prove yourself to me."

"You really are a brat. Not surprised, honey." you said, letting go of his cheeks and immediately diving into his chest to lick and suck at it, leaving it with red and purple bruises. Sliding your fingers across his wet chest and under his shirt, you flicked his nipple with your thumb before squeezing it, feeling him shudder standing in front of you. "What's wrong? can't handle it? need to lay down?" you didn't even let him finish before shoving him down into the bed, impressing him with your sudden strength. Giggling, you pinned his wrists down next to his head. "Just let me have my fun with those pretty tits of yours." Surprisingly, he didn't complain - instead, he just bit his lip and turned his head to the side, allowing himself to be touched. "Such a good boy, really,"

"Th-this is just a one time thing, Y/N, don't get your hopes up," he stuttered out between little gasps and squirms, "I promise you, I'll be stuffing you full tonigh- ngh!" he choked, feeling you move his shirt to the side and start lapping at his nipple. If he wasn't hard before, he sure as hell is now. Riling him up was easier than expected - although he'd never admit that. You continued nibbling at him, feeling his hardness underneath his pants on your stomach. Poor Kaeya, getting hard just from this?

"Sensitive, are we?" you commented between licks. "No wonder you love showing off your chest so much. Makes me think how you'd like showing the rest of you off?"

"You'd love to see that, huh?" he remained smug.

"Why yes, I would, Captain," you purred. You started unbuckling his belt and stripping him all the way down to his underwear, leaving so much more area for you to lick, kiss, and just ruin. "Such a pillow princess. Are you like this with everyone else?"

"N-no!" he exclaimed, looking insulted. "Just strip me already, Y/N." Honestly, it was pretty funny how he tried to mask his horniness, even with his dick as hard as ever under you, face flushed and breathing heavily.

"I'm not stripping you unless you call me your master. And if you strip yourself," you held up his chin with your fingers, "I'll just leave you here, naked and horny, with no pleasure at all. Your choice, Kaeya."

"Master.. please, please strip me - I need more, anything, please," he sounded like he was about to cry. How adorable, his pride crumbling right before him, all just so he could have your touch..

"Good boy."

You pulled down his tight blue underwear down to his ankles, freeing his oh-so-pretty cock. He was certainly impressive, but unfortunately, his dick would be useless to you tonight. "How pretty," you hummed, tracing every vein with your fingers, feeling every throb. "You want more, don't you? I want to hear you beg for more."

"More, please, I n-need you to touch me master, please," gasping, he tried rutting against your hand, rubbing himself on you, anything - but failing. "I want it so bad,"

Having the Cavalry Captain being your little bitch wasn't so bad after all. Laughing at his little whines and pathetic attempts to get off on your hand, you grabbed him and started pumping gently, watching his reactions in pure amusement. His usually striking eyes shut closed, eyebrows tight, his mouth wide open - it was all a sight to behold. Groans and whimpers filling the room, he continued trying to thrust harder into your hand, chasing his release. But baby, he had no idea the plan was entirely different than he thought.

He really thought it was just a bit of teasing, then you'd make him cum with your hands, or fuck you tight. But you stopped pumping him, leaving him whining and begging for more, a look of pitiful disappointment on his face. It almost made you feel bad.

"It's not gonna be that easy, pretty boy," you slapped his thighs, "legs up for me baby."

"H-huh?" he looked genuinely confused, still in a daze from the sudden disappearance of your hand on his cock. Not letting him waste any time, you lifted his legs all the way up by yourself.

"Can't even take orders?" you smacked his ass, making it jiggle and let out that filthy noise. You were impressed how loud it was, honestly. "What would the other knights think seeing you like this, Kaeya? maybe you want them to hear you get fucked? see you all spread out for your master?" Not even giving him a chance to respond, you shoved your fingers in his mouth, he could only hum little "mmphs" and nods in your direction. "I never knew our Captain would be such a slut," you watched in amusement as he coated your fingers in drool, looking up at you in desperation. "I'll give you exactly what you want." smiling at him, you rubbed your saliva-coated fingers against his hole for a few seconds before shoving a finger in to prep him. He wanted more, evidently, by the way he kept humping down against your finger with hesitant moans.

"Y-You're doing it all wrong," he slipped off your fingers with heavy breaths, "let me show you how it's done, master," You raised an eyebrow, and as soon as you were gonna grab him by his throat and punish him, he spread himself out even further with his hands, looking to get a reaction out of you. It was his first time doing this with someone else, but he's definitely fucked himself in front of a mirror before. Who wouldn't love to watch his body like that, anyway?

Shoving two fingers inside himself, he started looking for his spot, erratically humping the air looking for more stimulation, anything; but the most you'd do is stroke his thighs with a smile on your face, teasing him even further. He was obviously just trying to put on a show for you, make you watch him stretch himself out and look at him make the most erotic faces for you - he'd even make sure the whole of Mondstadt heard him get fucked, as if he wasn't gonna wear your hickeys like an award in front of the other knights tomorrow. Watching him fuck in and out of himself, listening to the filthy noises his ass made; you couldn't help but cross your legs a little. "Do you like it, master?" he whimpered.

"I know what you're doing, prince," you answered, "trying so hard to get more.. such a desperate bitch, don't you think?" he nodded in agreement. "Well, since you've been so good.." turning him over, you pushed his face down into the bed. He was already arching his back for you - his pretty hole all wet and ready to get fucked. "You'll still have to work for it, though," you laughed, hearing him groan in protest into the bed. Gently pushing your digits into him, you ordered, "Fuck yourself on my fingers, Kaeya."

Immediately obeying, he pushed himself back onto your fingers, dick flailing under him, sobbing and begging for you to just fuck him yourself - maybe if he obeyed for a little, you'd finally do it? "Such a good boy. And to think you wanted to fuck me?"

You wouldn't let go until you found his spot, curving your fingers towards his navel, making his legs give out from all the pleasure - the Captain was simply a doll in your hands to play with. Even when his legs gave out, only then would you finally fuck him yourself, his tears staining your bed alongside his cum. Fucking his spot even when your arms got tired, you had to make him cum again. His moans getting more and more high-pitched with every fuck into him, squirming and grinding his ass against you, he finally came again with a throaty moan filling the room. You pulled out of him and gave his ass a quick smack, letting him take his breath before turning over to face you. His cum all over his stomach and chest was a sight to remember, dick twitching, his face blushy and pretty lips open gasping.

Sliding your fingers across his chest, you picked up some of his cum and put it near his mouth, waiting for him to put his tongue out to lick it. He did just that, making eye contact with you, and even holding your wrist in place so he could lick it all up. "Good puppy."

He'll definitely be limping around the other knights tomorrow.. Not that he minded. He'll absolutely be teasing you again at the Knights of Favonious headquarters, anyway.

[scuttling]

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

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