#flip is a bossy dom

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[hoshifighting]

do you think you could write some bratty sub minghao? I feel like he’s totally a brat when he feels like it hehehe

bratty sub!minghao

WARNINGS: smut, sub!minghao x dom!reader, tit slap, orgasm denial, teasing, face riding oral [ f. receiving ], hair pulling.

in a dom side, he would be a hard dom. in contrast, if he were the opposite, he would be a hard sub bratty sub.

minghao’s the brattiest sub you’ve ever had to deal with, hands down. like, he’s not even trying to hide it—rolling his eyes, crossing his arms, letting out that annoying little huff every time you tell him to do something. you’d think he’s allergic to behaving. “yah... why do you always have to be so bossy?” he whines, dragging out the word as he looks at you like you’ve just personally ruined his life. his pouty lips are so damn pretty it’s hard not to kiss him.

“bossy?” you echo, quirking a brow. “hao, baby, you’re about five seconds away from finding out exactly what bossy looks like.”

his response? an eyeroll so dramatic it could rival a reality tv contestant’s. “whatever,” he mutters, flipping his hair. “like you’re gonna do anything about it~~”

oh. oh. challenge accepted.

next thing he knows, your hand’s in his hair, pulling hard enough to make his mouth drop open in a shocked little gasp. his eyes go wide, his bratty mask cracking just a little as you tug him closer.

“what was that?” you ask, your voice calm, but your grip firm. his breathing’s already shaky, and you can feel the tension in his body as he tries —and fails—not to react.

“n-nothing,” he stammers, the slightest tremble in his voice. but he’s still got that glint in his eye, that little spark of disobedience that drives you crazy.

“nothing, huh?” you hum, tilting your head as you study him. “then why are you squirming so much, baby? can’t handle a little discipline?”

he scoffs, but it’s weak, barely holding up under your gaze. “i’m not squirming,” he mutters embarassed.

“oh, really?” you let go of his hair, only to deliver a sharp slap to his nipple. the sound echoes through the room, and he yelps, his body jerking instinctively.

“what the hell—” he starts, but you cut him off with another slap, this time to the other nipple, making him hiccup silently.

“what was that, hao? you were saying something?”

he’s blushing now, his cheeks a furious pink as he glares at you. but he doesn’t say a word, just bites his lip and looks away, his bratty confidence shaken.

“thought so,” you say, smirking as you trail your fingers over his heated skin. “maybe this’ll teach you some manners.”

but, of course, minghao being minghao, he can’t let it go. “you’re so mean.”

“mean?” you laugh, leaning down until your face is inches from his. “oh, baby, i haven’t even started being mean yet.”

and then comes the real punishment—your hand sliding down between his legs, teasing him by playing with the shiny pre cum on his cock head, just enough to make him whimper, but not giving him anything more.

“please,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“please, what?” you ask, feigning innocence as you pull back just enough to leave him on the edge.

“please, i... i need—” he cuts himself off, his face turning even redder.

“you need what, hao?” you press, your smirk widening as he squirms beneath you. “use your words.”

he groans, his head falling back as he tugs at the restraints holding his wrists now. “i need to cum,” he finally admits.

“aw, that’s too bad,” you say, your tone almost pitying as you pull your hand away completely. “because brats don’t get to come.” you’re already shedding your clothes when minghao, with his clever little smirk, pipes up from his spot on the bed. “so… are you gonna let me eat you out?”

he’s always watching you with those sharp, scheming eyes, already trying to figure out your next move. always too smart for his own good. you don’t answer, just slide your top over your head and toss it aside. his gaze drops to your bare skin, and you can see the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard.

“oh, come on,” he presses. “don’t leave me hanging here. you’re just gonna ignore me?”

you bite back a smirk, taking your sweet time with the rest of your clothes. minghao shifts on the bed, his fingers twitching like he’s dying to touch you but knows better than to try.

“you’re so quiet all of a sudden,” he says, trying to look cool, butedning up sound more desperate than ever.

you step out of the last piece of clothing, completely bare now, and climb onto the bed. minghao’s breath hitches, his lips parting as he watches you crawl over him. you roll your eyes, settling yourself over him, your knees bracketing his head. his smirk fades instantly, replaced by a look of pure, unfiltered need.

“oh, you’re… you’re gonna—”

you lower yourself onto his face, cutting him off, and his reaction is immediate—his tongue darts out to meet you as he closes his eyes.

“that’s right,” you murmur, grinding lightly against him, your breath hitching as his nose bumps against your clit.

his response is muffled, but you can feel the way his tongue works, desperate and eager, trying to please you. “you’re lucky,” you coo. “i treat you so well, give you everything you need… and how do you repay me?”

minghao groans against you, his tongue faltering for a second before redoubling its efforts. you can feel the frustration radiating off him, but he doesn’t stop—not for a second.

“you don’t respect me,” you continue. “you’re such a little brat, hao. always testing me, always pushing.”

his tongue moves faster now, llike he’s trying to prove you wrong. you can feel him shaking beneath you, putting everything he has into pleasing you.

“there you go,” you murmur, tilting your head back as you feel yourself dripping more and more with every lick. “put in some effort for once.”

you’re close, so close, and minghao knows it—his tongue working overtime, his moans vibrating against you.

but just as you’re about to cum in his mouth, you lift yourself off him. his mouth follows instinctively, his tongue flicking out into empty air as he lets out a pitiful whine.

“no, no, no,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to pull you back down by rubbing his chin on your inner thigh. “please, i was—i was doing good—”

you laugh cruel, watching as he squirms beneath you. “oh, baby,” you say, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “you really thought i was gonna let you have it?”

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 smut scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others—distinct, isolated, and unforgettable.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set before the events of the game. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Submissive Chris Hartley. Pinning. Anal sex. Shower sex. Riding. Blowjob.

Recently reached 300 followers and i wanted to do something special <3

Words counts: 8000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

Cocky and relentless. Teasing that borders on merciless, using his natural charisma to push buttons and see you squirm and blush beneath him. He doesn't stop until he's left you utterly wrecked, trembling and begging for more. He'd enjoy having full control, alternating it with whispered reassurances or moments of tenderness.

Mike Munroe sat in the chair beside you, leaning back with his signature cocky grin plastered across his face, a textbook in front of him that he hadn't opened once since arriving. He had the look of someone who didn't really care about studying, which, frankly, was true. This entire night was a ruse, a flimsy excuse to be alone with you under the pretense of needing help with an exam.

The plan had seemed solid in his head. You'd sit close, explain things to him with that focused, determined look he loved and he'd lean in, let his charm work its magic and, eventually, your studying would devolve into something much less productive.

Mike had always been good at getting what he wanted. A flash of his smile, a sly remark and most people melted. But now, as you sat at the desk flipping through pages and genuinely trying to explain a concept he couldn't care less about, Mike was starting to feel… frustrated.

"You're telling me I have to memorize all this crap by Thursday? Who the hell needs to know about… what even is this—" he glanced down at the page in front of you, squinting as if the words offended him “—polynomial functions for real life? What, am I gonna solve equations at my job interview?"

You sighed, trying to ignore his dark eyes locked onto yours instead of the textbook in front of him. "You signed up for the class, Mike. I didn't force you to take it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "But that's why you're here." He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, his face mere inches from yours. "You make it all make sense. You're, like, my personal genius."

Your stomach twisted at the compliment, even though you tried to brush it off. This was just Mike being Mike, wasn't it? He was like this with everyone. Charming, flirtatious, impossible to ignore. You'd seen him in action before: the way he smirked at the girls in class, the playful winks he threw at random people in the cafeteria.

It was just his thing. And yet, being on the receiving end of it made your heart race in a way that was becoming harder to ignore.

"Your 'genius' thinks you should actually start paying attention," you said, nudging the notebook closer to him. "Try solving this one."

Mike groaned dramatically, dragging the notebook toward him like it physically pained him to do so. "You're cute when you're bossy."

"Mike—“

"I'm kidding." He shot you a lopsided grin before glancing at the problem you'd written out. He picked up the pen, twirling it between his fingers as his brow furrowed in mock concentration. "Okay, so, uh… the square root here is… this, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how off he was, shaking your head as you leaned over to correct him. The faint scent of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of spice, hit you as you got closer and you froze for a moment, suddenly all too aware of how close you were.

Mike noticed. Of course he noticed. His grin widened and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking from your face to your lips and back again.

You cleared your throat, quickly retreating to your seat. "Focus, Michael."

"I am focusing," he said, his voice warm and husky now, enough to make your pulse race and your breath catch. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of toned stomach. He caught your eyes flicking down and smirked. "On you."

Your face burned and you buried it in the textbook, pretending to reread a section. "Don't you have an exam to pass?"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," he said, waving his hand lazily. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you're sitting there all cute and stuff."

Your heart stuttered, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, words stuck in your throat as you kept your focus ahead.

He shifted on the chair, his eyes trailing to your lips as you read aloud from the book. God, you had no idea how good they looked, slightly pursed as you concentrated on the material. He could only think about how soft they would feel against his, how warm they'd be as they moved down his body.

His gaze darkened, drifting lower, watching the way your throat moved as you spoke. He wanted to trace his lips there, feel your pulse against his tongue. The idea made his pants feel uncomfortably tight and he shifted again, trying to will the thoughts away.

The study session continued, with you trying your best to keep things on track despite Mike's constant interruptions. He'd accidentally brush his hand against yours when reaching for a pen, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. He'd lean in close under the guise of needing help, his lips so close to your ear that his breath tickled your skin as he murmured, "Explain that one more time?"

The shift you made brought you closer, your thigh brushing against his and Mike had to work hard not to react.

"Here," you said, pointing to a diagram you'd sketched out earlier. "This is how you get everything right. Got it?"

Mike barely registered your words. He was too busy realizing how he could feel the faint heat of your body. His eyes dropped to your hands as you gestured toward the page, wondering what they'd feel like gripping his shoulders, his hips, his—

"Mike”

"Hmm?" He blinked, forcing himself to meet your gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay? You keep zoning out. You said you needed help with this, right?"

Mike sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I need help," he muttered, though he wasn't talking about school.

As you leaned forward to grab some papers on the desk, his eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, the way your shirt shifted slightly to reveal just a hint of skin.

It was torture.

Sweet, delicious torture.

"Can we take a break? I feel like I'm not gonna retain any of this if I don't decompress a little."

You glanced at the clock. "We've only been at it for 20 minutes."

"Exactly!" Mike said, his grin widening. "That's, like, more than I've ever studied so far."

You rolled your eyes, doing your best at suppress the warmth rising at his warm gaze in your direction. "Let me at least finish this thing?"

"Alright, fine," he muttered, picking up the book with a theatrical sigh and flipping through it aimlessly. "Keep cracking the whip, Teach."

You smiled faintly and got up to grab another set of notes from your backpack. The second you stood, Mike's eyes trailed down the curve of your back, lingering too long on the way your jeans clung to your butt. He bit his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

Enough was enough.

With a quick sigh, he stood, ego hurt and curiosity piqued. He closed the textbook on your desk with a sharp thud. His lip curled briefly at the sight of the boring equations inside, a momentary flicker of irritation at how they'd monopolized your attention. Then he turned his focus back to you.

When you turned around, annoyed at now being able to find what you were looking for, you froze.

He moved closer until your back pressed against the wall. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips curving into a soft, almost vulnerable smile.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was low, the teasing edge stripped away, leaving something raw and earnest.

"Uh… sure?" Your pulse quickened as his hand came up, resting lightly against the wall beside your head. His tall frame radiating heat as he leaned closer to you. His dark eyes bore into yours, not with the usual teasing glint, but with raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart race.

"Do you like me?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. "What?"

"You heard me," Mike said, his tone softening, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "Do you like me? Because, damn it, I can't keep this up anymore. I came here because I wanted to be with you, not to study. I just… I need to know."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you could barely think after hearing the vulnerability in his voice.

"Just tell me the truth," he murmured, his hand lifting to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek and the tenderness of the gesture made your knees weak.

Your throat tightened and you felt heat flooding your face. "Yes, Mike. I like you. A lot."

His grin returned, slow and breathtaking, as though your words were the only answer he'd ever wanted. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

He closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It was hungry, raw, as though he'd been starving for this moment. His hands found your waist, pulling you forward until you were pressed tightly against him as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring with urgency.

You gripped his shoulders instinctively, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. "Fuck, I've been wanting this for so long. You have no idea."

He bent down abruptly, his arms sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mike's lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping as he trailed down to your collarbone. His light stubble scratched your skin, a delicious friction that left you squirming in his hold. He sucked a mark just above your collarbone, his tongue soothing the sting before he moved up to your jaw, his breath hot against your cheek.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice a husky growl.

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his tongue delving into your mouth as though he couldn't get enough. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he ground his hips against you. You could feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing insistently against you and making you ache with need.

With a grunt, Mike turned and carried you to the bed, laying you down carefully before crawling on top of you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his sturdy frame caging you in as his lips found your neck again. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mix of reverence and urgency.

You moaned softly as his teeth grazed your neck, his tongue soothing the sensitive skin before his lips claimed yours again. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off in one swift motion before discarding his own. His bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his skin making you gasp as his lips continued their assault on your neck.

Mike's hands moved lower, unfastening your pants with a speed that made your head spin. He slid them down along with your underwear, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you fully bare beneath him.

His fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you with firm, steady movements that made your hips buck into his hand.

"You like that?" he asked, his grin wicked as he watched your reaction. "I want to hear you, baby. Don't hold back."

He worked you with expert precision, his mouth returning to your neck to suck another mark. He was relentless, his fingers slipping lower to tease your entrance, his voice low and commanding.

"Relax for me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

His fingers moving in and out with practiced ease as he murmured praises against your skin. His other hand continued stroking you, his thumb teasing your tip in a way that had you writhing beneath him.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

When he finally replaced his fingers with the hot, throbbing weight of his cock, the stretch was overwhelming. You hissed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against yours.

Mike’s lips didn't stop their assault on your neck, alternating between wet, searing kisses and the light scrape of his teeth that left trails of fire in their wake. Each movement of his hips pressed his thick, throbbing length deeper against you, and the friction was maddening.

"Fuck," he whispered, "You feel so good. So fucking good."

His restraint snapped, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucked you deeply, his groans mixing with your moans in the heated air.

His pace quickened, his thrusts hitting deeper as he angled his hips just right. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as pleasure overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you."

You couldn't hold back, your moans growing louder as he pushed you closer to the edge. His hand slipped between your bodies, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice strained.

His words sent you over the edge, your climax hitting you as you cried out his name. The way your body clenched around him pushed him over the edge, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled inside you with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. "Worth every second," he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

He would seek constant reassurance as he takes tentative steps. However, once he gains confidence, he becomes surprisingly assertive. He'd focus entirely on your pleasure. His athleticism would lend itself to strength and stamina, ensuring you're worshiped and cherished. He would revel in making you feel safe yet utterly overwhelmed by the raw power of his passion, glowing with pride every time he draws out a moan or gasp.

The campus was alive with the lazy hum of an afternoon sun. Matt Taylor was out on the field, his athletic frame in constant motion as he jogged the perimeter.

The way his shirt clung to him, damp and snug from exertion, only highlighted the strength in his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest. It clung stubbornly to his abs, outlining the defined ridges of his stomach. Every muscle in his body seemed to work in perfect harmony as he moved.

The sweat glistening on his caramel skin only made him look more enticing.

He stopped after a lap, bending slightly to catch his breath, hands resting on his thighs. The sight was enough to steal yours.

There were moments when his head would turn, his dark, warm eyes flicking in your direction. He always seemed aware of your presence, like you were a natural part of his environment. The way you looked at him was as essential as the air he breathed.

He'd catch your gaze just for a second, his lips quivering into a smile. It was like he knew you were watching and wanted to remind you that he saw you, too.

With a deep breath, Matt straightened, one hand pushing his damp shirt away from his torso, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Wiping the sweat from his face and neck with a calm, unhurried precision.

Matt tilted his head just slightly, as if gauging your reaction. Then, without missing a beat, he pressed his hand to his lips and blew a kiss in your direction.

Your heart stuttered, the sheer casualness of it leaving you stunned.

He turned toward the bench at the edge of the field, where his water bottle rested and took a moment to hydrate. He poured some of the cool water over his head, letting it cascade down his face and neck before trailing over his chest. The droplets caught in the sunlight, gleaming as they traced the curve of his shoulders and the hard ridges of his collarbone. His free hand dragged across his jaw, wiping the excess water away in a move that was as unintentional as it was captivating.

The others called out to him, ready to start another round of drills and he responded with an easy wave. As he jogged back to join them, he passed by where you sat.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with the kind of softness he reserved for moments like this. He leaned down, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "I was trying out some new moves. Gotta know if they're, you know, impressive enough." His tone was light and teasing, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, like he genuinely cared what you thought.

"They're impressive," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

His smile softened and for a moment, he looked almost shy. "Thanks," he said, straightening up and running a hand through his short, damp hair.

You watched as he jogged back to his friends, the muscles in his legs flexing with every step. He jumped right back into the game, throwing himself into it with renewed energy. He made daring plays, diving for the ball in ways that sent his friends laughing and clapping him on the back. He'd glance your way after every particularly bold move, his smile growing brighter each time he saw you watching, eager to impress you.

The dim lighting of the locker room cast soft shadows over Matt's glistening body as he leaned against the lockers, phone in hand, his voice warm and playful. His towel hung loosely around his neck and his shirt was long forgotten, leaving his torso on full display. Every inch of him radiated heat.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant echo of running water in the pipes and the soft shuffle of Matt's footsteps as he paced near the benches.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he chuckled into the phone, his deep voice carrying a hint of teasing affection as he talked with you. "No rush, though. No one else is around."

He glanced at the screen, his smile softening before he made up his mind on what to do next.

"Want to hang out? We can talk later after I'm done here, if you want?" He murmured, voice low with a sweet and earnest tone.

"Turn around," you said.

Matt froze for a moment, processing your voice now coming from behind him. He spun on his heel, his eyes widening as they landed on you standing just inside the locker room door. A surprised laugh escaped him and he hung up the call, sliding his phone into the pocket of his gym bag.

"You're here," he said, his grin growing wider. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and shyness as he took a hesitant step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

He moved closer, the heat of his body palpable even from a few feet away. The faint sheen of sweat making every curve of his muscles stand out.

"Let me��uh—just a sec," Matt stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the distance between you. He was so careful, leaning in slowly as though worried he'd overwhelm you. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, the saltiness of his sweat mingling with the sweetness of his breath.

"You don't mind the, uh…" He gestured to himself, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Not at all," you murmured, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a mix of gentle passion and restrained hunger. One arm looped around your waist while his big hand cradled the back of your head. His hands found your hips, his touch firm but tender.

He broke the kiss only to glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the empty locker room. Once satisfied you were alone, he turned back to you, his expression soft but smoldering.

"Shower's right there," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Think we could, uh… clean up together?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a nervous smile, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

You didn't answer with words, letting your lips find his again instead, this time with more urgency as he backed behind with you caged in his arms.

The shower stalls were humid and warm, steam curling in the air as Matt turned on the water, letting it cascade down his back. He stood under the stream for a moment, his head tilted back, droplets running over his shoulders and down his chest, washing away the sweat that clung to him.

He turned to you, his expression soft but filled with intent. "Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand.

You stepped into the stall, the warm spray hitting your now naked skin as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips found yours again, deeper this time, his hands exploring your back, your sides, the curve of your hips. His touch was firm but gentle, every movement infused with the kind of care that made your chest ache.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly to press you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures sent a shiver through you, but Matt's body pressed against yours was a furnace, his heat keeping you grounded.

The water ran between you, slicking your skin as his kisses trailed down your neck, his lips warm and soft against your wet skin. His breath was hot, mouth lingering over every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, water dripping from his hair and into your eyes.

Hands broad and rough from years of training roamed your body with deliberate care. He started at your waist, his thumbs grazing your hips, then slid them down to cup your thighs, pulling you closer until every inch of him was flush against you.

His lips moved down the side of your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses that lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste the droplets sliding down your skin. "You feel so damn good." Matt murmured, his voice thick with need.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his tongue pushed into your mouth. His hands drifted lower, gripping your ass firmly as he hoisted you up, pressing you against the cold tile wall.

His hips pressed into yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness between his legs, the weight of him grinding slowly.

"Matt," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his lips found your collarbone, then moved lower, trailing down your chest. He paused at your nipple, his mouth closing around it, his tongue swirling as his teeth grazed just enough to make you arch into him.

The water streamed down his back as he continued his descent, his tongue and lips mapping a path across your stomach, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you. He looked up at you as he knelt, his eyes filled with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he kissed along your thighs, his mouth hot against your damp skin. His fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing you, making you ache for more. He submits his mouth to take on your length, his tongue flicking out to taste you, slow and deliberate as he traced every vein and ridge.

The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass. He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle. Your head tilting up as the finger went in deeper before adding in another finger.

When you were trembling beneath his touch, Matt stood again, pulling you into another searing kiss. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you easily as he aligned himself with you. The anticipation was overwhelming, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me if I'm too much. I don't want to hurt you."

His sweetness melted into raw passion as he slowly pushed inside, stretching you in a way that made your breath catch. The pressure was intense, the fullness almost too much, but Matt paused, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured against your skin.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice strained, his restraint obvious as he let you adjust.

When you nodded, giving him the okay, he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he found a rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the small, steamy space.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he buried himself deeper.

His pace quickened, his control slipping with each thrust, his eyes watching you intensively, filled with unspoken adoration and need.

Matt's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were overwhelming, your body tightening around him as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

"Come for me. I want to feel you," Matt whispered, voice a mix of command and plea.

His words pushed you over the edge, your climax ripping through you with an intensity that left you shaking, your cries muffled against his shoulder. The way your body clenched around him sent him spiraling, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groaned your name, his release spilling inside of you hot, heavy and overwhelming.

He held you there, both of you trembling as the water continued to pour over your exhausted bodies, his breath ragged but his smile soft.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse but filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. "More than okay."

And with that, Matt grinned affectionately before wrapping you in his arms, his warmth and love enveloping you completely.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

He would be almost hypnotic. His hands firm, guiding you like a puppeteer while he watches every reaction with piercing eyes. Touch that alternate between rough and tender. He'd seek absolute surrender, his lips tracing feverish paths across your skin as he demands every gasp, every shiver, until you're completely undone.

The basement was dimly lit, a warm glow from the single overhead bulb casting shadows over the eclectic collection of items Josh's family had accumulated over the years. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with dusty film reels, old cameras and props from Josh's endless experiments in cinematography. You trailed behind him as he rifled through a box, muttering under his breath about where he'd left the camera he needed.

"You've got enough stuff down here to make a whole trilogy,” you spoke amazed, picking up a fake severed hand from one of the nearby tables. "Let me guess, this was for some horror project?"

Josh turned, his smirk lighting up his face even in the shadows. "Oh, that? Nah, that was just Halloween last year. Dad thought it'd be funny to have it sticking out of the candy bowl." He rummaged through a nearby crate, pulling out a few props from old projects like the fake blood packets and a weathered script.

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed it back on the table. Josh returned to rummaging through his box of supplies and your attention wandered to a nearby shelf where a cracked clown mask hung ominously. This place is like a treasure trove, a mix of fascinating and unsettling, much like Josh himself. His mind always worked a mile a minute, brimming with ideas that danced somewhere between genius and chaos.

"Found it!" Josh declared, holding up a vintage film camera triumphantly. "This baby's gonna make my project an A+ for sure."

"Finally," you teased, crossing your arms. "I thought we'd be down here forever."

Josh's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you're scared of basements."

"I'm not scared of this place," you replied, rolling your eyes while turning around to see again a cool looking mask that you wanted to try out.

"No?" he asked, his tone mock-innocent as he casually reached for something behind him.

When you turned around to face your boyfriend again, your eyes were met with a mask that resembles a skull-like style with a pair of thin black eyebrows, a cracked nose and rotten styled teeth. The dim light casting eerie shadows across the distorted features.

He lunged at you with a guttural growl, arms outstretched. Startled, you yelped involuntarily, stumbling back a step as he grabbed you with exaggerated ferocity. He gripped tightly your waist and hoisted you effortlessly onto a nearby table, pinning you in place.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, pulling the mask off to reveal his gleeful grin.

"You absolute jerk!" you gasped, swatting at his chest with your right hand in frustration.

Josh laughed, his deep, warm chuckle echoing through the basement. "You should've seen your face! Priceless."

"You're the worst," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed how flustered you were.

"Oh, come on," he said, leaning closer. His hands rested on either side of your hips, trapping you. "You're even more handsome when you're scared. Seriously, it's not fair."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Let me make it up to you for my genius prank." He concluded the line with a kiss to your neck, his lips warm and insistent against your skin.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding up your sides as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to expose more skin, his lips following the path his hands carved.

"We’ve done it not even an hour ago," you murmured, your voice trembling as he nipped lightly at your shoulder.

Josh chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Perfect then! Means that you’re ready for me," he admitted, pressing his lips to yours into a kiss that was equal parts sweet and consuming. His hands roamed your body with a mix of confidence and care, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. "You look good," he said simply, his voice tinged with awe.

"Stop being sappy," you teased, though your heart raced at his words.

Josh grinned, his hands sliding to your waistband. "Fine, I'll focus on other things"

He made quick work of your pants, his lips finding yours again as he pressed you back against the table. The feel of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate.

"You," you replied without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Josh groaned softly, his fingers tightened on your thighs, his thumbs stroking the bare skin just above your knees as he stepped closer, pressing himself against you. His lips trailed along your jawline, soft and teasing at first, but the heat in his movements grew with each passing second.

He tilted your head slightly, exposing more of your neck and pressing his lips there, warm and insistent.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue following in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you shivering. His hands roamed upward, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt before tugging it over your head in one swift motion.

"God," he breathed, pulling back just enough to take you in. His eyes were dark, predatory. "You're fucking amazing."

"You don't look so bad yourself," you managed, your voice shaky but laced with a teasing edge.

Josh smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, there was no pretense of restraint. His tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and consuming as his hands pulled you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between you.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, pushing it up over his torso. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor before returning his lips to yours. The heat of his bare chest against yours sent a thrill through you, his skin warm and slightly damp as your hands explored the defined lines of his back.

Josh's hips rolled against yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. Your own erection makes your pants feel painfully tight. He groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as he ground into you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're driving me crazy," he admitted, his voice rough as his hands slid to the waistband of your pants. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "Can I…?"

"Yes," you said quickly, the word barely more than a whisper.

He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor softened by the flush in his cheeks, and tugged your pants down, his hands deliberate and firm. You kicked them off, your skin prickling with anticipation as he leaned back to admire you.

"You're perfect," Josh said, his voice husky as his fingers traced along your thighs, his touch featherlight but electrifying.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his body was pressed fully against yours. The feel of him, hard and eager, against your own growing arousal made you gasp. Josh took the opportunity to kiss you again, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, lifting you slightly as he aligned himself with you.

"Ready?" he asked, his hands voice soft but filled with intensity.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he positioned himself. The stretch as he pushed inside was slow and deliberate, his movements measured as he let you adjust to the fullness.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buried himself completely.

The words sent a shiver through you, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you urged him to move. Josh pulled back slightly, his hips rocking forward again in a slow, steady rhythm that left you breathless.

He found a pace that was both gentle and intense, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing soft moans from your lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he pressed kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

Your own voice trembling as the pleasure built with each movement.

Josh's pace quickened, his control slipping as his need for you overwhelmed him. The table beneath you creaked with each thrust, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his body moved against yours like you were made for each other.

Your climax hit suddenly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you and leaving you trembling in his arms. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

Josh wasn't far behind. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning your name as he spilled into you. The warmth of his release sent another shiver through you, the sensation leaving you breathless.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the table, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands trailing soothing patterns on your back.

"Am i forgiven now?" he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with his usual humor.

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his neck. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Josh grinned, his arms tightening around you as he rested his forehead against yours. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

Hesitant, nervous chuckles and self-deprecating jokes peppering the atmosphere before his passion takes over. He's the type to fumble slightly, then find his rhythm as he becomes more confident. He'd moan sweetly, almost embarrassed by how lost he becomes in you, whispering heartfelt praise and words that reflect just how irresistible he finds you.

The game's victory screen flashed across the TV, the sound of triumphant chiptunes filling the room. Both you and Chris collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, the adrenaline of finally beating your highest score leaving you giddy. His laughter bubbled up first, that unmistakable mix of relief and joy that only he could manage and you couldn't help but join in.

"We actually did it," Chris said, breathless as he flopped onto his back, one arm draped lazily across his forehead. "I thought we were doomed when you missed that jump in the third level."

"Excuse me, you're the one who forgot to grab the power-up right before the boss fight." You shot back, turning your head to face him.

Chris groaned, dramatically rolling onto his side to look at you. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair was sticking up in every direction, but he looked so completely relaxed and at ease in that moment that it made your chest ache in the best way. "Okay, okay, my bad. But you have to admit I nailed that final combo."

You snorted, nudging his shoulder with yours. "Yeah, sure. But only because I carried us through the rest of the game."

His jaw dropped in mock outrage. "Carried us? You died twice in the first round, man!"

“And who revived you at the end?" you shot back, smirking.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his grin widening as he broke into laughter. "Alright, alright. You're not entirely useless. We're gaming legends now! They're gonna put our names in the Hall of Fame or something."

"Right next to the guy who discovered cheat codes for unlimited lives," you quipped.

"Exactly," he said, grinning as his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "We're pioneers of our time."

The two of you laid there, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence. The faint glow of the TV bathed the room in soft light, illuminating the faint curve of his smile as he gazed up at the ceiling. His arm was still close to yours, his fingers just brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate but unspoken.

"It was fun," Chris said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah," you agreed, your own tone softer. "I don't think I've laughed this much in a while."

He turned his head to look at you, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. "From now on you'll be my good luck charm."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You just needed someone to keep you focused. You do get distracted a lot."

Chris groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm like a dog chasing squirrels. Oh look, shiny object—game over."

You both laughed again, the sound soft and intimate in the late-night stillness. When it faded, you found him watching you, his blue eyes catching the flicker of light from the TV.

"What?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his grin gave him away. "You're a lot of fun to hang out with, you know that? Like, even when you're roasting me."

"Glad to be of service," you teased, your own grin mirroring his.

His gaze lingered a little longer than usual, his expression shifting slightly. "No, but seriously. I mean it. You're, uh… you're really great."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

"Thanks," you said softly. "You're pretty great too, Chris."

He smiled, a little shyly this time, and turned onto his side fully, propping his head up on one hand. "Have you ever thought about how weird life is? Like, one day you're just doing your usual things, then Sam one day shows up with someone like you and suddenly everything's a million times better. Boom. Butterfly effect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be romantic at two in the morning? Because I think the lack of sleep is getting to you."

"Hey, don't ruin my moment!" he protested, but his laughter undercut his words.

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his as the moment stretched on.

You sat up on the bed and then crawled toward your destination, the TV's glow fading as you turned it off. When you turned back to the bed, Chris was sprawled out like a contented cat, his arms spread wide, his legs slightly apart. His glasses were back into their original place at the top of his nose.

"You just gonna stare, or are you gonna accept my invitation?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.

You laughed, shaking your head, but the way his smile widened when you leaned closer told you that you weren't fooling him for a second. You crawled onto the bed, resting against his side as he let his arm fall lazily around your waist.

"Happy now?" you asked, pressing a quick kiss to his left cheek.

"Getting there," he said, voice soft and a little breathless

You didn't stop, peppering more kisses along his cheek and down to his jaw, light scratches from his stubble against your lips. Your hand wandered lower, brushing over his stomach, then down to his pants, where you felt the beginnings of his growing arousal.

Chris chuckled, the sound nervous but filled with anticipation. His free hand moved to your back, pulling you closer as his breath hitched. "Wow, okay, uh… Someone's feeling bold tonight," he murmured, though his grin betrayed how much he was enjoying it.

"Aren't we supposed to be basking in our gaming glory?"

You squeezed him gently through the fabric, feeling him harden further under your touch. "Should I stop, then?" you teased, feigning innocence as your fingers lingered.

"Nope!" he blurted out quickly, his voice cracking slightly as his head shot up. His face was flushed, but his lips found yours in a soft, insistent kiss, his usual shyness tempered by a growing determination.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours as his hand slid under your shirt, his fingers warm and exploratory against your skin. You shifted, straddling his lap, and he let out a quiet groan as your weight pressed down on him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you slightly as he rolled his hips up, creating delicious friction that left you both breathless.

"God, you're… You're really good at this," Chris muttered, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss accompanied by a soft hum of approval.

"You sound surprised," you teased, grinding against him again just to hear the way his breath caught.

He laughed softly, though it quickly turned into a low groan. "No, no, I mean—I just—" He stopped, shaking his head as if words were failing him entirely. "Never mind. Keep doing that… please?"

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, your hands slipping under his shirt to explore the warm expanse of his chest. He was lean but toned, his body radiating heat as your fingers traced over him, eliciting small, breathy noises that only spurred you on.

Chris's hands slid to the waistband of his pants, fumbling slightly as he worked them down. "Help me out here," he said with a nervous laugh, his cheeks red but his smile never wavering.

You helped him and he helped you out, the two of you working together to peel away the layers until you were completely bare. Him beneath you with your naked body on top of his. His erection stood proud, flushed and eager and the sight of him vulnerable yet so clearly aroused made your own desire burn hotter.

"You're handsome, you know that?" you said softly, running your hands over his thighs as you sat back to take him in.

Chris laughed, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my God, don't say stuff like that. I'll die."

"Too bad. I’ll say it, whether you like it or not," you teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

His response was a muffled laugh against your lips, but it melted into a moan as you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He gripped your hips tightly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation and when you nodded, he let out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Okay, just—take your time."

You did, slowly sinking onto him, the stretch intense but achingly good. Chris's grip on your hips tightened, his head falling back against the pillow as a low groan escaped him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, his hands trembling slightly as he held you steady. "God, you feel amazing."

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to move, your body adjusting to the rhythm as you found a steady pace. Chris's eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted as he sat up from his previous laid position. His hands were guiding your movements but never pushing, always letting you set the pace.

"Is this— shit, is this okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his hips bucked up involuntarily.

"it's perfect," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him. "You're perfect."

His laugh was breathless, almost disbelieving, but he met your kiss with fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands explored your body. The soft gasps he made, whispered curses, your name falling from his lips like a prayer… it all drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

Chris's movements became more erratic, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency. "I'm—oh God, I don't think I'm gonna last," he admitted, his voice high and strained

"Don't hold back," you said, your own voice trembling as your climax built.

With a choked groan, Chris buried himself as deep as he could and tightened his arm around your body, his release hitting him in waves that left him trembling beneath you. The feeling of him filling you, combined with the look of utter ecstasy on his face, sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you as you collapsed onto his chest.

For a moment, the two of you stayed in that position, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Chris's arms pulled you close as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"Best. Night. Ever," he murmured, his voice warm and content.

"Agreed," you said, your own smile matching his as you nuzzled against him.

If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3. Let me know if you had a favorite one out of this four fine men ;)

[ellecdc]

Nsfw!

Moonwater is a bit new pairing for me and i love it too much but i always wonder how the dynamic are in the bedroom, i really dont think both men are anything other than rough.

I mean when needed the boys would be gentle but most of the time i dont think so? Remus, maybe? could be gentler but during full moon he’s an animal but regulus tho, i dont see him as the gentle type.

What do you think?

oooou ok ok I like it, I like it; let's discuss below

CW: discussing sex and dynamics, NSFW, mdni 18+

So, this first part is going to be my own personal opinion based off of who I am as a person, and my views may not be shared within the fandom. I personally struggle with super abrasive dom/sub dynamics where a male character is very overbearing, controlling, etc. THAT DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T LIKE ANY DOM/SUB DYNAMICS, just that fics where a male character is being super aggressive and demeaning and such really aren't my vibe, if that makes sense?

I personally struggle imagining our sweet, sad boy Remus as being super mean in bed? Doesn't mean I don't think he's in charge, especially in poly!scenarios because when there's that many people in bed, someone has to run the show lol, but I don't see him as super bossy and assertive.

Now, keeping in mind that this is my interpretation on a character who literally doesn't exist (which is so sad wtf), my version of 'dom!remus' looks more like a very assured, confident guy in bed; he knows what he's doing, he's good at it, and he knows how to get everyone where they're trying to go (i.e., orgasm city, obviously). He takes care of everyone in bed, and (in the case of poly!marauders or poly!wolfstar) he certainly redirects anyone's naughty (bratty) behaviour (read: sirius), but I think he'd also be super communicative and understanding that it's a dance, not a battle which adds to his assuredness and confidence in bed because people feel safe with him - they know that he knows what he's doing and can let go because they trust him with their safety and their pleasure - and he's in bed with his partner's, not his adversaries.

I've often imagined his love language (how he shows love) to be acts of service and physical touch, which I think goes hand in hand with how he is in bed; when he's in a relationship with these ships, he's making love, not just fucking

HOWEVER.....

I think you're right...some things definitely change around the full moon. I think leading up to the moon (depending on if it was a manic moon or if he was moonsick) there'd be a very noticeable change in him. For manic moons - he'd be a little more desperate, a little rougher (while still being our sweet guy as mentioned above lol), and I think there would be way more sex. He'd be insatiable and obsessed with you; "come on dovey, one more for me, yeah? you're so good, so good for me; i know you can do one more". Good luck trying to pry him from between your legs.

if he was riddled with moonsickness (immediately after every moon or leading up to a bad moon where he is sore and such), i think he might be a bit of a switch? He'd want to be held and cherished and taken care of - he'd nearly cry in awe every time you got on your knees to give him a lazy, gentle blowjob, or if you were in the mood, he'd lay back and let you ride him (he actually loved it - thought you looked beautiful up there)

Now for Regulus lolololololol

No one who grew up in the dynamics Regulus did is vanilla in bed, I'm sorry. (and I come from a place of authority in this - I relate a little too well to Sirius [though not as violent, obviously]). Honestly? I could see Regulus being mean. And not in a super demeaning way that makes you feel small or embarrassed (again, this is my preference), but he takes pleasure in surprising you by suddenly flipping you over and taking you from a different angle. By suddenly and without warning changing the rhythm of his thrusts from soft and slow to deep and punishing. He'd love marking you up - possessive af and making sure everyone and anyone knew that not only were you taken, but you were his. In the same vain, I picture him as a bit of a sadist/masochist but again, not in a super violent or demeaning way. He'd like for the fuck to be a little rough, a little hard; he loves the mixture of pleasure and pain - wants to be bit so hard he bleeds and wouldn't mind doing the same to you if you asked for it. I also think he'd be willing to try a lot of new things in bed, and some of his favourite sex is when you fuck him with a strap [if you're fem or afab].

Together?

I think Rem is still in charge - again, he's confident and assured in the bedroom and everyone trusts his authority and trusts him to keep them safe and satisfied. He would keep Reg from getting too rough or going too hard and would constantly check in to make sure you were still good with everything going on. He'd also be able to satiate any need in Reg regarding his masochistic tendencies. I believe Reg would bottom in the dynamic, but again, I think sometimes depending on the moon and how Rem is feeling mentally - he'd experiment more fluidly with Reg.

I've also mentioned before that I believe Purebloods have a breeding kink and with Remus' animalistic side due to his lycanthropy, that he would too. So I think there would be a lot of using cum as lube, taking turns filling you up with their cum, maybe some snowballing??? jesus christ I'm a sick fuck lmfao. anything to do with cum would send those boys spiralling, "no no babygirl, don't waste it" Rem would coo as he used his fingers to push cum back into your hole. or "whose do you want next, amour? Mine or Rem's?"

And I think you're right, when the time called for it, these boys would be so fucking good at making you feel nothing short of fucking worshipped. The soft, hungry gazes, the lingering and soothing touches, the praises falling from their lips as they gave you everything they got. I'd cry I think; they'd reduce me to tears for sure.

[f10werfae]

From Kissies to Sex

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry x Shy!Reader

summary: After a brief argument Henry comes back to claim his precious babygirl’s virginity, after giving her second set of sweet lips a few kissies (DILF!Henry) (Dom!Henry)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/ Disclaimer 18+

Henry Masterlist, Lumberjack masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“baby bun, I told ya m’sorry, when are ya gonna let me back between those sweet legs a’ yours” Henry cooed brushing a bit of hair behind her ear, having just snuck in through her bedroom window now her grandparents were out. “I-i’m still upset, y-you promised to take m-me with you o-on your n-next trip! I-instead y-you left m-me here” She whimpered tugging on the bottom of his shirt, like a naive mindless little bunny, ignoring his hands that were busy massaging her bust through her shirt; his fingers circling her hardened nipples.

Having been dating for a couple of weeks now, it’s safe to say that Y/n found herself clinging to Henry like a puppy, her hands always wrapped around him and his around her. The furthest they had gone was him giving her pussy little “kissies” until it made her feel good, in fact it was practically normal for her to just sit her pretty ass right onto his face, especially after a hard day’s work; he needed his favourite sugary treat.

So when he was due for a log collection trip two hours out of town, little miss bossy pants stomped her foot saying she needed to go to keep her man company, how else would he live without his sweet sugar cube? Only for Henry to go on without her, being away for the better part of only 12 hours, but still that was 12 hours!

When he tried to call his baby up as soon as he got back for a sleepover, he was met with nothing but voicemails and declines, which led him to now. Sneaking into her bedroom while she was home alone, with the last time they spoke to each other just being two days ago.

“I know honey, I know, but are ya really gonna push me away? Future father of ya kids, ya future husband, your Henry?” He whispered stepping forward until she fell on top of her pink sheets, her body scrambling up against the headboard as he crawled up to her, their noses nudging against each other playfully as her hands cupped his bearded cheeks. “D-do ya promise to bring m-me next time? I don’t l-like n-not bein’ with ya” She whined kissing his lips softly, her glossy lips ghosting over his then kissing both his cheeks.

“I pinky promise sweetheart, now come on, don’t ya think I deserve my treat?” He tilted his head flopping down beside her, shuffling around to get himself comfy, watching as she stood up on her bed; flipping up her sun dress she held both his hands as she squatted down onto his face. His mouth kissing against her core as his nose nudged her clit, his hands grabbing onto her ass cheeks for dear life. “W-woah, feels good” She moaned out softly rocking herself back and forth on his face, his tongue venturing deep into her hole, his eyes peering deeply into hers as she bit her lips.

Humming against her mound, Henry felt her juices start to coat his face and beard, some of it even leaking down his cheeks onto her soft blankets; his nose manoeuvring her precious button to chase her release. “N-need more kisses, p-please?” She whimpered sitting up a bit more to hover over his face, letting her older man collect his breath before he growled and pulled her back onto his face. His face moving side to side rapidly as he slurped up all her juices, giving her one last tongue kiss down there before patting her ass to shift her down to his lap.

“Was that enough kisses for my baby bun? Did ya enjoy my lips on your cunt? Ya gonna deprive me of it again?”

“N-no never!” She gasped out as Henry started grounding her hips onto his bulge, her bare skin rubbing against his jeans, watching on as he unzipped his jeans to reveal his brief covered cock. “My sweet sweet girl, I can’t wait to bury myself in your soft puffy pussy, hear you moan and call out for me, how much you love me” He whispered caressing her jaw, smirking proudly as he watched her explore and take out his shaft, her mouth gaping open at the mere size of it.

Her face growing shy at the confession of him knowing her true feelings, as if she didn’t talk in her sleep about how much she loved him. “Y-you love me too right?” She beamed slowly stroking him up and down with her fist, giggling and squealing once he nodded and told her how much he needed and loved her. How she was his and his alone.

Pulling the rest of her dress off her he felt himself throb at the sight of her, “D-don’t look too hard o-okay?” She mumbled crossing her arms to hide herself, suddenly feeling insecure under his dark intimidating gaze. “Sugar pie, m’ gonna look all day every day for the rest of my darn life, you’re so goddamn beautiful” He crooned looking all over, his hands cupping each of her breasts, chuckling once he saw how her nipples hardened in his grasp

“Wait!Wait! T-turn them around” She whispered pointing to the array of stuffed plushies on her bed, collected from all the times Henry had won at the state fair, with Y/n call them their “babies” Nodding he turned around trying to hold in a chuckle, turning each teddy around so they weren’t witnessing this pornographic act. “Now m-m’ ready” She whispered leaning up with her hands on Henry’s shoulders, gasping as he flicked the head of his cock along her folds, pulling and stroking at the slickness to coat himself.

“Are ya sure you’re ready sweets?”

“You promise it won’t hurt?”

“I’ll try my best sugar, you just relax and let me do this okay? Jus’ sit n’ look pretty for your man” He sighed out slowly sitting her down onto his length, her voice crying out at the sensation of being stretched out, she really did feel like she was being split in two. It didn’t help that Henry’s mouth and tongue were wandering over her breasts, causing an overwhelming sense of touch to cloud her brain. “You’re okay baby, you’re doin’ so good for me, so prouda ya” He cooed pushing her hair back away from her face, her mouth wide open as drool came from the corner of her mouth.

“S-so deep n’ big” She gasped out finally feeling him bottoming out inside of her, his hands resting on her ass when she leant forward to wrap herself around his torso, her hips eagerly moving against his in tiny movements. Slowly he started to bounce her up and down on top of him, her voice matching the rhythm of his thrusts as she cried and moaned out, “c-can feel you in my t-tummy” “M-my clit, p-play with her” “W-wanna hug”

That last statement nearly made Henry coat her with his cum then and there, the thought of her nothing wanting more than to be EVEN closer to him was so adorable and sexy. Pulling her off of him he dragged her back into his chest, as he lifted up one of her legs delicately, running himself through his folds once again before delving back in. His arm wrapped around her waist tightly whilst the other groped both her breasts greedily, even grabbing at the skin on her hips and stomach like a mad man. “S-so warm n’ s-snuggly, l-like a bear” Y/n whimpered out clearly cockdrunk, her mind running 100 miles an hour from the pure ecstasy she was feeling, Henry’s wet lips travelling over her shoulder and back.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth bun, need to kiss those purty’ lips of yours” He growled taking a hand and using it to turn her head to the side, his tongue drooling into her mouth as he dipped in and sucked on her tongue, both their faces soon turning wet and slobbery from their kiss. “Mmm want more kissies” She whined reaching up to kiss him again, this time clamping her lips onto his as she clenched her hole around him, Henry swallowing her squeals and grunts.

“Never leavin’ ya sugar, n’ you ain’t leavin’ me, ya hear me?” He whispered kissing her chin, spanking her tits as they moved and jiggled wildly, “mhm d-don’t wanna leave, wanna stay with you bear” She mumbled laying her head back down onto the pillow, feeling Henry fucking her own cum back inside her as he himself chased his finish. A slosh of white cream surrounding the base of his cock each time he thrusted up, evidence of both of them mixing together as one, how he finally claimed her as his woman.

“Too sensitive” She rasped out as Henry slowed down, as he slowly thrusted inside of her for another 10 minutes, just kissing and loving on her sensually. Until he finally slipped out and let her turn around to face him, her breathing still rapid as he pulled her arms over his waist, lifting her leg up to see how he was still dripping out of her lips, “stop lookin! s’embarrassin’” She whined pulling her leg back down as she glowered at him, huffing while he smiled and kissed her forehead, immediately breaking a smile onto her face.

“What ya don’t wanna see our baby bein made?” He joked running his hands up and down her body, pulling her closer to him, their chests flushed together. “I have to go home soon ya know that right? Your grandparents will be ‘ere soon” He whispered pressing a chaste kiss to her nose, watching it wrinkle cutely in response.

“D-don’t go! I-I wanna cuddle and hug n’ kiss” She said seemingly clinging onto him harder, “O-or bring me with you?” She offered looking up to see a smile forming on his face, she got him there,

“Ok fine, but you’re goin’ naked, that okay with ya?” He smirked standing up and fixing himself up, just wrapping her up in one of her fluffy blankets as he carried her out of the room a squirming mess, her giggles and laughs going unnoticed by Henry as he tucked her caterpillar shaped cocoon into the passenger seat. Clicking in her seatbelt with a soft wet kiss to the lips and a pinch to her cheek, letting her shuffle over to him once he got in, her head on his shoulder as they drove off towards the mountainous hills. Their home grounds.

———

psa: hope you all enjoy finding out about their first real sexcapade together 🫶

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist

@pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @alina02 @alexxavicry @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25 @k3ira13 @shecamedowninabubble @ridingthehotmessexpress @heyitsme-2 @animez96 @namjoons-t1ddies @ameliascreampuffs @angelic-dreams13 @respectmyprivacys-blog @squishyturtle

See you all at the next update, lots of love🫶

[gunnrblze]

My little COD Ghosts sexy time/kink head cannons. (I’m ovulating, just bear with me, I think I lost the plot like 9 times)

My husband Hesh is rather vanilla in bed, but has a couple kinda oddball things (oddball to him lol) he’s fantasized about. It’s still something on the more tame side of kink, but I like to think his favorite kind of sex is romantic missionary but he also kinda wants to spank you sometimes or yap about getting you pregnant (whether you even can, want too, etc, doesn’t matter as long as you’re into it). He may or may not even admit it, but it plagues the inner corners of his mind (he’s shy methinks). He tries to hold back his noise, but if he’s desperate enough the man is VOCAL (he gets very desperate lol). Also down to try most positions, preferably if he can still see your face though. If you ever DO get pregnant by this man though, in a planned capacity, he will dick you down in a way that has you questioning how well you really know him, that dick will be FERAL!

My sweetheart Logan gets down I fear…I just know this man will have you in any room of the house, in any position. Loves to fuck you against the wall? Yeah. I think he’d also like being a little submissive sometimes. Like, tell him what to do, get a little bossy, if you catch him in the right mood he’d definitely get on his knees at the drop of a hat for you. I like to think he’s still not much of a talker during sex, but in lieu of little verbal communication, he can read your body like an open book. Soooo in tune with your reactions, it’s second nature for him to observe you like that. He can give head like it’d resurrect Christ himself though, do not let that man’s head between your legs unless you wanna ascend to heaven. (You def do.) Like a good soldier, he follows directions…

Keegan? This guy doesn’t play, he knows what he likes and he wants you to enjoy yourself too. He doesn’t see the point if it’s not mutual enjoyment, he’s gotta make you cum. I like to think he’d engage in some kink, also on the ‘tamer’ side, spanking, dirty talk, maybe a blindfold or some handcuffs here and there. I think he’d be willing to try/consider a lot of different things though if you asked. Avid pet name user, will “sweetheart” “love” “pretty/good girl/boy” you to death. Dick game is mean though, like I see him having an average amount of experience for a man his age, but he gets DOWNNN. Loves giving head, could probably bust just from watching you lose your mind over it. I’m a Keegan Russ soft dom truther.

Merrick gives me similar vibes to Keegan, except I feel like this man would secretly be a bit freaky once you guys have been intimate for a while lol. Like for a while it’s pretty conventional, but then once he’s well acquainted, he’ll manhandle and flip you in any position, order you about, whisper all kinds of shit to you… this man can yap methinks. Dirty talk comes so natural to him. (I think he has a thing for spanking too, sue me.) Naturally has that domineering energy but will lean into it more if you want. You’re absolutely his sweetheart during sex though, chronic “is this okay?” “does this feel good?” “do you like that baby?” user. Loves to praise too methinks, “you’re doing so good” “just like that” “there ya go, baby” etc etc.

Kick definitely gives me FREAK vibes, but in an almost controlled way if that makes sense? Very straightforward with it lol, like if you’ve got any kind of kink or scene fleshed out, he’s almost a little mechanical and analytical with it. Not because he isn’t connected in the moment, but because he’s SO turned on he’s observing you like you’re an act of god, a literal dog salivating at your feet, trying not to bust too quickly. Giving me that “focused but unfocused” energy. (You can’t convince me he wouldn’t like car sex too.) He can definitely have intimate, emotionally charged sex too, especially if he’s locked in with you.

Elias my beloved, he’s gotta be a sweetheart lol. I like to think him and Mrs. Walker had sweet married couple shit going on. I don’t really see him being into anything on the kinky side, but would prob dom you a little if he was in a mood. But this man can fuck ykwim? You need a soul mending experience? Get that man in your bed asap. If you two are mutually in love that dick will change your life fr, the Walker sons were made with care LMAO. (Loves finishing inside you if able, something triggers the primal ‘marking my territory’ part of his brain…)

Rorke is NASTYYY lol. This man would have the nastiest, freak sex with you, change my mind. I can see him being down to try sooo many things, like if you need that perv shit, he’s your guy. He’d def be into dom/sub things, and I can see him liking semi-public type stuff, the thrill of being seen/caught and what not. The mouth on this man is dirtyyyy, teases you relentlessly. If he loves you though, I think it sobers him a bit because he wants to worship your ass completely. Can also have slow, sappy romantic sex if the time is right. Will guide you and sweet talk you heavy. Loves getting head, and overall is a grunter lollll

[underdark-dreams]

yooo i love ur writings sm dude! thank u for providing the MUCH needed and appreciated rolan n dammon food ! if ur still accepting and willing to write for a more masc reader, would u do hcs with rolan (and/or dammon, idc :>) with a top/dom inclined reader? :]

BLESS your patience, anon! I got lost in writing a smut fic for this request this week. But you asked for headcanons, so it doesn't feel fair to make you keep waiting! In thanks, please expect a Rolan x m!Tav oneshot soon. 🖤

Rolan x top/dom M!Reader: Relationship Headcanons

[SFW + NSFW both under the cut]

SFW

This wizard has a serious case of oldest sibling disorder

Rolan can be downright bossy, because a lot of his self identity rests on feeling powerful and in control of things

On a deeper level, Rolan is just used to being the one taking care of the people he loves. Having the scenario flipped—being taken care of for once—it throws him off balance

Falling for a guy who takes the lead and takes initiative might honestly cause Rolan a mild identity crisis without him realizing. He’ll deny the feelings for a week or two, stewing and blushing and unintentionally broadcasting his crush to anyone around him

This was not the plan. So why does he keep daydreaming about you picking him up princess style and tossing him down onto your bed

Inside Rolan’s dying to get swept off his feet and lavished, he just doesn’t know it yet

Maybe it finally clicks for him the first time you pull Rolan close and murmur all your appreciation into his pointed ear

Rolan is so weak for praise and so, so hungry for it, especially from you

He can’t help but melt inside when you tell him how good he is, how clever and competent, how much he deserves to feel incredible and how much you’d enjoy being the one to make him feel that way

Kiss him afterward and feel Rolan whimper softly against your mouth as he goes a bit limp in your arms. He’s entirely yours

He’s not only falling in love with you, he’s discovering a whole side of himself he never gave himself time or permission to explore

But you? You make him feel loved and completely safe

Rolan will occasionally come to you to pout or complain about trivial things, just to get a kiss and hear you assure him you’ll take care of it for your sweet little mage

He’s still flustered by how much he enjoys it at first, even more so when he feels himself flush and stiffen under his robes

Rolan also becomes addicted to the feeling of being wrapped up in your arms

Your arm draped on his shoulder: your hands looped around his waist to keep him tucked in close while you’re kissing: and especially your forearms caging him in against the wall while you grind against each other

Rolan’s still proud, so it’s not easy for him to admit or ask for these things out loud unless you’re alone

But even in a public setting, he will sometimes appear close beside your shoulder and glance over at you with a wordless request that means please hold me a bit, I’m tired/lonely/needy for you

If you don’t notice fast enough, Rolan might softly brush your hand or loop his tail low around your calf to get your attention. You’re the one who awakened these feelings in him, and by the hells he’s not going to be ignored now

Face it: you have unleashed needy sub Rolan upon yourself, you’ll just have to dom up and deal with the consequences

NSFW:

When you’re fucking him, Rolan can be somehow vulnerable and teasing/demanding all at the same time

Old habits die hard…so might Rolan if you don’t give him what he needs

Rolan knows the right word from you or the right gesture pinning his wrist or thigh can get him dangerously close to losing it, and some nights that makes him feel rebellious

He has a smart mouth even in bed, and provoking you excites him sometimes

‘Gods, I bet I can finish myself before you do—’ Rolan’s grip closes around his own hard cock as your slickened fingers gently and slowly prepare him

Other nights he has absolutely zero fight in him. Just a soft pile of Tiefling clinging to the man he loves as he kisses across your shoulders, asking you to take him while you tell him that he’s more than good enough

Rolan may try to hide it (that or he’ll make zero effort), but he’s weak for any time you order him around or direct him

‘Get on your hands and knees’ ‘Spread for me like a good boy, Rolan’ ‘Stop biting your lip or I’ll bite it for you—go on and let everyone hear who makes you feel this good, that’s it—’

It all gets him so needy for your cock that he can’t say no to any of it until you’re filling him

His favorite positions are usually the ones that let him hold onto you for even more closeness—missionary, against his desk in the Tower, etc.

Of course, those don't give him a chance to hide his reactions from you, so you’ll occasionally see him blush dark or squeeze his eyes shut or bite back the sounds you coax out of him

Alternatively: just tell Rolan he thinks too much and fuck him into his mattress so hard he can’t think about anything else at all including his own ego

The way he clutches your shoulders for dear life and pants your name will let you know how much Rolan loves it (and you)

[letsgoletsgetit08]

fireflies

summary: Wooyoung has been gone for over a year - backpacking across Europe to find himself. Yeosang meets him at the Jung's summer country house upon his return. Will their nearly two decade long friendship be able to pick up where it left off?

warnings: mdni, 18+, smut, drinking, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (don't you dare!)

pairing: gentle dom!kang yeosang x bratty sub!jung wooyoung

word count: 4,430

ao3 link: fireflies

fireflies

The country lane turned to dirt and Yeosang slowed his motorcycle down, always having thought this part of the drive was pretty - old growth forest with trees and rocks covered in moss, and every shade of wildflower lining the road that led to Wooyoung's family's summer house - but also, despite not wanting to admit it, Yeosang was biding his time. Nervous. He couldn't really put a finger on why, either. Wooyoung had been his best friend for nearly 20 years now, they were practically raised together, but he'd been away for over a year now. Backpacking across Europe, sending Yeosang pictures of all the food he was trying, the landscape, the varying degrees of sketchy to safe hostels he was staying it, different friends and acquaintances (possibly lovers, but his stomach turned at the thought, so he didn't let it fully form) smiling behind him in nearly every new location. Yeosang had stayed home. Bartending to support himself through grad school. He was excited to be on this path - he was going to be an art therapist - but he still envied Wooyoung a little. His freedom, his ease. His ability to flourish no matter where the wind blew him. Yeosang was scared he would outgrow him, despite him being the older of the two. He had always been there for Wooyoung growing up. Showing him the ropes in his subtle way because if Woo had caught wind of Yeosang trying to help in any way, he would never have allowed it. Independent, stubborn. Defensive about being younger. And bossy, always getting what he wanted. At least as far as it went with Yeosang, who was always happy to oblige. Even if he pretended to resist sometimes.

A memory came flooding back as he went around a curve in the road, the trees opening up to fields of clover and wild lavender, he could see the big three story stone house in the distance, remembering playing out in those fields when he was 9 and Wooyoung was 8. Chasing fireflies. Letting Woo direct which exact bug needed capturing for a (short) life in the jar with holes poked in the top.

“No, Sangie, not that one, the one down there, by the dandelion! Its light is brighter!”

Yeosang had rolled his eyes, smiled to himself, “You already have one, Young-ah. Why do you need a second one?”

Wooyoung had looked hurt, lip pouting, “This one would be lonely. I can't let him be lonely, Yeo.”

“Okay, okay,” his hands had closed around the bug of Wooyoung’s choice, “Got it!”

Wooyoung’s laughter had peeled through the humid late spring evening air, excited at the long awaited capture of a friend for his other pet.

“Now they'll never be alone.” Yeosang had said, carefully releasing the bug into the jar Woo was holding.

“Just like us, right, Yeosang?”

“You'll get tired of me eventually.”

“No way,” Wooyoung's eyes had tears threatening to spill over at this statement, “You’re my best friend. Forever. Promise?”

“Okay, fine. Promise.”

And Woo had tackled him to the ground in a big hug, never having been one to shy away from physical affection. Yeosang had struggled, pretending to hate it, but gave up quickly, never admitting he loved the warm, verging on too tight embrace the younger had him in.

But that was 16 years ago. And 14 months was a long time to be away. He was worried how things might have changed.

He slowed his bike down to a crawl as he pulled up the last stretch of the driveway, lined with peach trees, and he flipped his visor up so the smell could reach him better, the fragrance, between the fruit and flowers in the field, was intoxicating. Wooyoung had always smelled a little like it, even though he and his family only stayed out there three months of the year. It lingered. Peaches, clover, moss, and wildflowers.

His nerves subsided for the time being as Kyungmin - Wooyoung’s younger brother, now nine himself - bounded out the front doors, down the steps, and launched himself at Yeosang right as he had fully dismounted his bike.

“SANGIE HYUNG LOOK!” he backed up from the attack (a hug, really) and pulled his bottom lip aside, showing him a back molar that was wiggling slightly, “Wooyoung says it's not ready but you'll help me pull it if he won't, right?”

Yeosang couldn’t help but grin wide, kneeling to Kyungmin's height and gently patting him on the head, “Of course I will, Min, but let's give it another night, okay? It will hurt really bad otherwise.”

Kyungmin pouted for a second (a family trait, apparently) before taking his hand and pulling him inside, “Come on hyung! My stupid brother has a stupid tattoo he's been showing everyone.”

Yeosang let himself be led inside, nerves returning, pausing a little too long to untie his black boots, setting them gingerly next to a slightly smaller pair of beat up black Vans, biding time again.

He followed Kyungmin through the foyer into the kitchen, following the smells of saffron and seafood that were waiting through the air.

“...and that's why it's not paella unless it's cooked for this long” Wooyoung was facing the stove top, stirring something in a comically large pan, explaining about the food he was making to his parents, who were standing around the kitchen island, snacking on several charcuterie boards and drinking wine, listening to Wooyoung ramble politely. Seeing him nearly knocked the breath out of Yeosang. He looked the same, of course, in a large black t-shirt and faded black jeans, but his skin was the color of honey, tan, one forearm covered in a sleeve of tattoos he had evidently been collecting during his time abroad, and his hair was long, tied half up, the bottom part skimming his shoulders. Yeosang had grown up accustomed to people praising him for his looks. His features were fine, delicate, fair skin, round cheekbones, sparkling eyes, lithe body, “a living statue” an ex had told him once. But Wooyoung… the look behind his eyes always made you feel like you were in on a secret. Everything about him drew you in, like a moth to a flame.

He turned, then, to continue yapping at his parents, but stopped short upon spotting Yeosang, dropping the wooden spoon he was holding onto the countertop carelessly, running over to his best friend.

“Yeosang-ah!” he exclaimed into the elder one's ear, arms around his neck, trying to pepper kisses on his cheeks, Yeosang moving just enough out of the way every time to deflect the kisses, an old game they had always played. Yeosang always pretended to hate the affection but deep down he craved it.

“Youngie, you're choking me.” He chided him, contradicting himself as he finally returned the hug, letting Wooyoung land a kiss sloppily on his cheek at last. Ignoring the flush to his cheeks that followed it. He felt himself breathe deeply for the first time since he started his two hour long motorcycle ride to the country house, breathing in Wooyoung’s familiar scent, realizing that nothing had changed.

“Mmh I don't care, I missed you so much, hyung.”

He let himself relax.

Dinner passed fast, all of them listening to Wooyoung's stories - the cat who followed him from Greece to Italy to Croatia until a friend he made there decided to adopt him, how he lost his shoes in Switzerland, high and lost on the streets of Amsterdam before being adopted by a somewhat famous band passing through town who let him stay at their hotel for the night, dancing in the streets of Barcelona with a handsome stranger, etc. By the end of it, Yeosang's sides and cheeks hurt from laughing.

He helped Wooyoung clean up the kitchen as his mom started trying to convince Kyungmin it was bedtime, yes he still had bedtime during the summer, and his dad went off to put the ducks and chickens away for the night. Yeosang was at the sink, washing dishes, lost in thought, and suddenly felt Wooyoung’s presence behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, just tall enough to rest his head on his shoulder, breath tickling the hairs at the back of Yeosang's neck. Yeosang tried not to tense up at the contact, it had surprised him, but what surprised him more was the way his stomach flipped at the contact. If he was completely honest with himself, he would admit that his feelings for Wooyoung had changed in his absence. Still friendly, always friendly, but seeing his pictures with others, hearing his stories, especially the ones that he was pretty certain he had edited for his family's sake to leave out the parts where he had hooked up with people, Yeosang couldn’t help but feel jealous. Not at the experience itself but at people having access to Wooyoung. His Wooyoung. Not that he could claim that title, really. But he wanted to.

“I wish you would have been there, Sangie.” Wooyoung sighed into his back.

“It looked like so much fun, Woo, but you know I couldn't take that much time away from school or work. Plus, it seems like you had plenty of company without me.” He felt a little bad adding that last part on, hoping it didn't come off rude.

“Yeah but those were just some guys. Everywhere I went I kept thinking, ‘Sang needs to see this.'”

Wooyoung let go then, taking the wet plate from Yeosang's hands and drying it with the dish towel before putting it in the drying rack.

“Mmh. I missed you too, Young-ssi.” He felt himself smile thinking about Woo wishing he would have been there, then quickly snapped out of it when he felt Wooyoung’s eyes on him, face serious again as he handed him the last dish to dry.

“You're not jealous are you, hyung?” Wooyoung poked him in the side.

“What? No. Why?” Yeosang thought he had done a better job of hiding it.

“Hmm,” Wooyoung studied him, “I'll be right back, stay here.” he instructed.

Yeosang did as he was told, and noticed a bottle of wine unstoppered and only half finished sitting on the island. He didn't want to do more dishes, so he drank some straight from the bottle. It left his mouth dry and he looked at the label, Cabernet Sauvignon. Yuck. He much more enjoyed the sweet sparkling Cava they had had with dinner. He took another drink anyway. Trying to erase the images his mind was creating of Wooyoung pinned beneath faceless men and women, blushing as he pictured the faces and sounds he would make.

Footsteps broke him out of his daydream. Or daymare more like. Wooyoung was carrying a big plaid blanket, a small cooler, and a Mason jar, “Let's go outside, Sangie.”

Wooyoung was sitting criss-cross on the blanket out underneath the big sycamore tree where they had spent so many nights together as kids during the summer. “Yes, right there, hyung-ah!” he all but squealed as Yeosang was closing in on his firefly of choice, tipsy on the lillet blanc he had brought outside with them. Yeosang kept sneaking in splashes of soda water into his glass. Not only because Wooyoung was getting a little past tipsy, but also in hopes of softening the blow of the headache he would wake up with drinking something so sweet. It was good though, he had to admit. Over ice with the fresh peaches they had picked from the trees on their way out there, slicing them for their glasses. The French preferred orange slices, Wooyoung had informed him, but how could they pass on the sun ripened peaches already at their disposal?

Yeosang brought the fireflies over to place them in the jar, having somehow managed to catch two at once, knowing Woo would insist on him catching a pair so one wasn't lonely. He flopped down somewhat harshly next to Wooyoung, leaning back on his hands as Wooyoung screwed on the lid with holes in it onto the jar. He picked up his drink and tilted his head back, finishing it, and tapping the bottom to encourage the peach slice to fall into his mouth. He felt eyes on him and moved the glass down, embarrassed. Wooyoung took the glass from his hands and fished the peach slice out, holding it in front of Yeosang's mouth, who took it, feeling the juice spill down his chin, but Wooyoung was there to wipe it for him before he could.

“Messiest eater I've ever met, Yeo.” Wooyoung smiled at him fondly, the corner of his eyes crinkling. To his surprise, Wooyoung brought the finger that had just captured lillet infused peach juice off his chin up to his own mouth, licking it clean while maintaining eye contact with Yeosang.

“Did you bring me out here just to make fun of me, Wooyoung? Did that work on what's-his-name from Barthelona?” He half-joked, half-snipped in poorly disguised jealousy. The lisp in Barcelona also half because he himself had a slight one and half making fun of how people who went to Spain once always returned saying the name of the city.

Wooyoung's smile faded, and his eyes turned away, suddenly very focused on the fireflies in the jar, both helplessly signaling with their lights, trying to communicate that they would like to please be let out, wishes that went ignored by the two boys who were responsible for their distress.

“No,” he said quietly, “I brought you out here because this is one thing only you and I share. I thought you would appreciate it. Since I got to do so much without you.”

“Oh, Wooyoung, I'm sorry, I do appreciate it, I-”

Wooyoung cut him off, “And you're jealous for no reason, by the way. I didn't sleep with that guy.” He started picking up the jar, the cooler, the glasses, and storming off inside.

Yeosang sat in stunned silence for a minute, laying back on the blanket and staring at the stars, wondering what was so terribly offensive about the joke he had made.

After a little while, he was starting to get cold, so he got up and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, headed inside.

He padded up the stairs and turned left towards “his” room at first and then stopped, pivoted, and walked right into Wooyoung’s room without even knocking.

“What the fuck?” Wooyoung was fresh out of the shower, hair wet, wearing only boxers, “Yeosang, go to bed. I don't want to talk to you right now.”

“No,” Yeosang said, sitting on the edge of Wooyoung’s still-made bed, “I'm staying here until we talk, Youngie.” Wooyoung huffed and went to the other side of the bed, sitting down and folding his arms, staring straight ahead instead of looking at Yeosang, “Fine. Talk.”

Yeosang wasn't used to being the one to start, but cleared his throat and swung his legs up on the bed so he was closer to Wooyoung, “I'm sorry. For being jealous. I think I really just missed you.”

He could feel Wooyoung roll his eyes even if he couldn't see it, “Oh, sure. And that's the only reason?”

Yeosang's breath shuddered in his chest, “Yes.” Wooyoung’s head turned sharply away, “Or. Um. No. I don't know.”

“Figure it the fuck out, Kang.”

Yeosang leaned his head back, frustrated, hands fiddling with the comforter, “Wooyoung. I was jealous because I wanted to be there with you. I think… I mean I realized while you were gone. I have feelings for you, Young-ah.” He said the last part barely above a whisper, looking over at Wooyoung, eyes pleading to look back at him. He did, finally, “You do, hyung?”

“Yes. I definitely do. Seeing you again only confirmed it. But I wanted to be happy for you if you were sleeping with other people while you were gone. I want you to have the best life, Woo. With or without me in it.”

Wooyoung gave him a sympathetic look, “Sangie. I don't want my life to ever not have you in it.”

“Really?”

“God, yes, I'm obsessed with you. I could have slept with plenty of people while I was gone. I went in the first place partially because I was running away from my feelings for you, I think. I didn't ever dare dream you would return them.”

Yeosang's heart was on fire, “How could I not return them, Young-ah? You're my favorite person in the whole world.” He reached over and tucked a piece of damp hair behind his ear, hand shaking slightly, “God, you're so pretty, no wonder all of Europe was trying to sleep with you. Why couldn't you do it, honey?”

He was in love with him. Had been for at least a year. Probably longer.

Wooyoung’s eyelids fluttered at his touch, “Not just them, hyung. I've always turned people down. I think…” he looked up at Yeosang, “I think I always wanted it to be you.”

Yeosang felt his cock twitch in his pants, “Wooyoung… are you saying… You've never…?”

“Never, hyung.”

His thumb traced over Wooyoung’s cheek, his jaw, “And you want me to be the one, jagi?”

Wooyoung leaned in closer, “Please, Yeosang. I don't want anyone else. Will you?”

Yeosang closed the gap, his lips fitting perfectly over Wooyoung’s, kissing him slowly, lightly, tasting better than he had ever imagined, his smell intoxicating, “Yes, baby” another kiss, “I'd be so honored,” another, “you're so perfect, Young-ah.”

He deepened the kiss then, sliding his tongue in between Wooyoung’s already perfectly parted lips, tasting, teasing, letting Wooyoung’s tongue into his own mouth, sucking on it a little, which elicited the most delicious whine out of the younger one's mouth.

Yeosang wanted to take him right then and there but this was special. He wanted to make it so good for him. Perfect.

He slung a leg on top of Wooyoung, straddling his hips, grinding down, already able to feel the other's dick getting hard through his pants. “Oh fuck baby,” he said through increasingly deep kisses, “you feel so good like this.”

Wooyoung moaned into his mouth, hips bucking already, reaching for the hem of Yeosang's shirt, “Mmh hyung, please,” quieted by a kiss for a brief minute, then, “hurry. Please. I need you.”

“Oh, Young-ah, baby, you're going to have to be patient,” breaking away to remove his shirt, “Can you do that for me?”

Wooyoung’s gasp as he finally got the skin contact he was searching for, “Yes, god. Yes. Anything you want.”

A nip at his collarbone, “Oh, good boy. You're going to be so good for me, aren't you, darling?”

“Yes, hyung.” He whined.

Yeosang was so hard. He stood up to remove his jeans, his boxers tented with his erection.

Wooyoung’s eyes were half-lidded, sultry, needy.

He removed his boxers, too, almost an afterthought, suddenly desperate for Wooyoung to see him, touch him.

“Fuck, Yeosang,” Wooyoung’s eyes studied his body, “You're so big. I'm not sure I can-”

“I'll get you ready to take me, baby, don't worry,” a kiss on his cheek as he climbed back on top of him, “And we can always stop. But I'll take care of you, I promise. Can you trust me?”

Kisses down his jaw, collarbone, sucking and marking him as he traveled south.

“Mmh, yes,” a sharp inhale as Yeosang bit playfully at his nipple, “Yes, Sangie, I trust you.”

“Good boy, Woo. You're so exquisite, honey,” he all but purred as he finally was kissing his thighs, “Do you have lube, Youngie?” he said as he pulled the younger one's boxers off, taking his time and enjoying the *thwack* of his dick being released from the waistband, hitting his stomach. Hard and flushed, gorgeously proportioned and shaped, it was already leaking precum and it was all Yeosang could do not to lean down and lick him clean. Instead, he resumed his kisses on the soft flesh of his stomach.

“Drawer- hnnng oh god, hyung,” he moaned as Yeosang could no longer resist not having his mouth on him, lightly trailing his tongue up his length, licking clean the salty pearl at his cleft, “You're gonna make me cum too fast,” he whined, fingers curling into the comforter.

“No, jagiya,” Yeosang's voice was low, rumbling, as he reached up to grab the lube and a condom out of the bedside table drawer, “I'm going to make you cum exactly when I want you to,” he stopped on his way back into his position to kiss him again, deep, working his way across his jaw, landing on his earlobe, which he pinched between his teeth lightly, giving it a small tug before releasing it and planting a kiss there in its place.

Wooyoung was squirming, impatient underneath him, “Please, Sang-ah,” he begged. It was hot.

“Please, what, baby?” a hand on his cock, “tell me what you want”

“You,” a moan as Yeosang stroked him gently, taunting, “I just want you. Everything. All of it. Please-hnnng. Fuuuccckk.”

Yeosang's mouth was around the head of his gorgeous cock, tongue stroking against the underside of the tip, a lube-slicked finger tracing his entrance. He came up for air for a second to say, “Just try relax, angel. I've got you.” Before dipping his head down again, taking him further into his mouth as he started working his finger inside his tight rim simultaneously. When he felt him loosen at his presence there, he added another finger, slowly, knuckle by knuckle, waiting to feel the pressure let up that had returned, removing his mouth when it did, not wanting to overstimulate or drive him to the edge too fast.

Wooyoung whined when his dick was no longer being occupied but it quickly turned into a low moan when Yeosang curled the two fingers inside him slightly, stroking his prostate delicately, steadily. He didn't figure he had too much time before his gorgeous lover was ready to explode, so he added the third finger, scissoring his fingers, making sure he was properly prepped. Wooyoung was already babbling nearly incoherently when Yeosang pulled his fingers out, reaching for the condom on the bed, but was with it enough to stop him, “Wait, Sangie. Can we do it without the condom, please? I wanna…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“Wanna what, love?”

“I wanna,” he found eye contact again, “I want to feel you cum inside me.” He was pouting. How could Yeosang deny him? Plus, he knew how incredible it would feel. It's not like he had had any partners in the last year. And Wooyoung, fuck, it hit him again that he was taking Wooyoung’s virginity. What a privilege. His best friend. The love of his life, he thought. Who else?

“Oh, Youngie, sweetheart, of course. God, who told you you could be so hot?”

A smile lit up Wooyoung’s face. His favorite smile in the whole world. This would never get old.

He grabbed the lube again, applied it liberally, fingering Wooyoung one more time before placing his dick at his entrance, “Just breathe for me baby, okay?” his tip started to push inside, “And tell me to stop any time. You will never have to ask twice with me, I promise.”

Wooyoung moaned his acknowledgement, already taking him so well. Yeosang couldn't figure exactly where to look, it was all so glorious. His eyes flitted over to Wooyoung's tattoo sleeve, the national flowers from every country he visited, but nestled in the middle, between a bunch of lavender and a peach tree flower, was two fireflies. He could have cried had he not felt so fucking good right now. “Young-ah, you're doing so well, honey, I wish you could see yourself taking me, fuck.”

He was buried to the hilt, testing the waters by circling his hips slowly.

“Fuuucckk, hyung, I'm so full, you feel so good, please, pleeeeaaase, mmnhhhh.” He was babbling.

Yeosang started to set a rhythm, “God you're so tight, baby, you feel amazing,” he cooed, grabbing his hands and interlocking their fingers, pinning them up by Wooyoung’s head, the change in angle making his hips buck, needy.

“Mmh, so close, please… ”

“Please, what, love?”

“Please can I cum?” He whimpered.

“Do you think you can do it without me touching you, baby?”

“Mhm so close already, please.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he thrusted a bit harder, “cum for me, angel.”

And he did, messy, all over his own stomach. He was so gorgeous, the sight of him coming undone, sweaty, desperate, was almost enough to send Yeosang over the edge. He knew Wooyoung was probably overstimulated but as if he could read his mind - he probably could at this point - Wooyoung cried out, “No no no please don't stop,” moan, “wanna feel you, please.”

Yeosang readjusted, pulling him up into his lap, Wooyoung’s legs grasping around him, ensuring there was as little space between them as possible.

The change of angle combined with staring into his love's gorgeous siren eyes set Yeosang over the edge quickly, so much hot liquid that it was already leaking out of Wooyoung. He pulled out gently, guiding them down onto the bed, pulling Wooyoung close, planting kisses all over his face, cooing, “Oh, you did so good, baby. You're amazing, really, I'm so-” a kiss finally landing on his perfect mouth, “I'm so in love with you, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung looked like he had just been told he'd won a lifetime supply of free Dunkin Donuts, “You are?”

“Yes, baby. Completely,” another kiss, “stupidly, irrevocably,” another, “in love with you.”

Wooyoung was giggling, returning his kisses with glee, “Yeosang-ah, I'm in love with you too,” a kiss to his jaw, “I've been in love with you.”

“You got a firefly tattoo.”

“It was the first one I got,” he curled up into the crook of Yeosang's neck, “I got it the day after I landed in London. I missed you so much already.”

“It's perfect. I love it, Wooyoung. I'm tempted to get a matching one.”

Wooyoung sat up, “Really?!”

“Yes, baby,” Yeosang laughed, “I think I'd do anything for you.”

“Oh we're SO getting matching tattoos,” Wooyoung tossed a leg over him, possessive, sticky. He didn’t care. He loved it. He sighed, content, “I'd explode the world for you, angel.”

“I just want fireflies.”

“Then I'll catch you every firefly you ask me to.”

“I never want to go anywhere without you again,Yeosang.”

A kiss to the crown of his perfect head, “You never have to, Wooyoung.”

[chrollosbm]

Sunflowers Fields: a Choso Love Story: Chapter Two

You're broken from a past relationship, thinking you only deserve the worst. Choso comes along, making you realize you deserve the world and more. Will your ex-boyfriend let you go without a fight? (Choso x black!reader, yandere Choso)

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, manipulation, (eventual) heavy smut, overstimulation, begging, dacryphilia, dom choso, bossy choso, sub reader, slight yandere choso, suguru is her ex

Sunflower Fields ao3 version

Chapter One here

You walk down the street, stumbling, with no idea where you were going. You were grateful you settled on kitten heels rather than stilettos for the night, because otherwise you would have probably broken an ankle by now. You would have been afraid if you weren’t so blasted, but there you were with God knows how many shots in your system. As you reach a dead-end though, you begin to worry. You suddenly start to sober up (or better yet try to be a little more aware of your surroundings) and turn around, realizing you really don’t know where you are. Why did you have to leave the club so dramatically? You could have simply told Andrea and Kento you were ready to leave, but instead you had to make a theatrical scene in front of a really hot guy. 

 Panic begins to set in as you continue to pace down the road and search for your phone in your bag. Just as you find it and open up your contacts to call Andrea, you hear a car pull up beside you. You freeze, not knowing what to do. If this was it, you were going to be so pissed in the afterlife. 

Cause of death: kidnapped and killed after leaving the club because you couldn’t stop thinking about your cheating ex-boyfriend.

If that happened you would beg the Lord to revive you just so you could kill yourself again.

Your body begins to tremble when you suddenly hear a familiar voice call out your name from the car. You look up stunned to see Suguru staring at you from the driver’s seat, confusion written all over his face. His hair was in a bun with a few strands left out, his ears pierced and covered in black earrings. He was so fucking beautiful. Your heart strings tugged when your eyes met his. So many memories flooded your mind. All the pain, sadness, and betrayal was clouded by the memories of all the great times the two of you spent together. Before it all went to shit. Laughing until your stomach hurt, long drives with hands clasped together and music blasting with the top of his car down, bone shaking, passionate sex after an exciting date night.

All ruined.

“Dollface? What are you doing out here?” He says, his voice laced with genuine concern. His eyebrows were furrowed, face reading concern.

Dollface.

“I’m going to marry you. You know that right?” Suguru said to you, seriousness in his eyes. The moonlight was shining down on him as he was on top of you, breath heavy, hair sticking to his face and neck. Harsh waves were crashing in the background, almost as harsh as your heart was beating. 

You froze, pausing to comprehend what he just confessed. “Shut up.” You had said, not believing him, a small, disbelieving smile on your face. Still you had goosebumps erupting from your body, from both the wind chilling your bare skin and the words he had just spoken to you. 

“I’m being serious, dollface.” His eyes remained on yours as he continued to thrust into you, slowly, deeply, intensely. “You’re going to be mine forever. You’re not going anywhere.” 

Your stomach begins doing flips and your eyes well with tears as you stare at the handsome man, soon beginning to stream down your face. 

“When do you think you want kids?” The two of you were sitting on your couch, binging reality television shows you basically forced him to watch with you. Your feet were in his lap and he was rubbing them, skillfully. 

“We could start trying now.” He said with a smirk, eyes twinkling at you. “I’ll admit, I haven’t been the most careful with pulling out lately.”

You gasped and  picked up a pillow that lay closest to you, and reached over to hit him in the head with it, playfully. “Suguru! Not funny.” You yelled at him but he laughed anyway.

“I’m kidding, dollface.” The smile on his face was blinding. “I want nothing more than to make you the mother of my kids, but I’ll wait until you’re ready.” Sincerity was written all over his face. “Like I said, you’re not going anywhere.”

Suguru steps out of the car and before you could stop him, he wraps his arms around you to hold you tightly.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” He says softly as he pulls away to wipe the tears from your face. His eyes read confusion, guilt, and sadness. You want to punch yourself for how weak you’re being, and how easily you’re letting him back in. You nod your head anyway, and let him guide you to the passenger seat of his car that you had become so familiar with. 

As he shuts your car door, you feel a buzz on your phone and pull it out to see Andrea calling you. You quickly reject the call, sending a text saying you’re okay and that Suguru came to get you. This will only bring on more calls and texts, but she’s aware he wouldn’t put you in any physical danger. She would at least know you weren’t kidnapped.

The drive was silent with a few glances that your ex-boyfriend kept giving you every now and then. You pretended to not feel him staring into the back of your head as you were turned towards the window, with the window down, trying to sober up as much as you could. If you had known you would have a run in with your ex, you would’ve stopped at shot number two. Maybe you wouldn’t even be in his car right now doubtful. The tension was becoming unbearable when the two of you thankfully pulled up to your apartment. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Thank you for the ride. I’m glad you were there to save me.” You gave him a grateful tight lipped smile, which he returned, sadness in his eyes. You sat in the car, staring at each other longer than you should’ve until you finally reached for the door. He grabbed your hand before you could pull the lever. “Wait. Please.” You turned towards him and regretted it. He was giving you that look. The look you had fallen for so many times.

Your eyes were welling with tears again, when you managed to let out a small and quiet, “What is it?” 

“Can I come in, please? I want to talk.” He begged, that look remaining on his face. You had seen it so many times that you wondered if it was rehearsed at this point. You knew whatever he had to say would be filled with lies and manipulation, yet you were falling for it again. You wanted to kick yourself. You were doing it again. You were letting him in again after he gave you a knife to the heart. Over and over again he would leave wounds that were never given a chance to heal. Instead, he just put a bandaid on the wound when you needed fucking surgery.  

When the two of you entered your apartment the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You kicked your shoes off and without a word, set foot to your bedroom. Suguru did the same and followed you to your bedroom like a lost puppy. Your room was a disaster with hair products all over the floor, laundry that had been piled up and an unmade bed, but you didn’t care. Partially because you were drunk and partially because you couldn’t give a shit about what he thought of you right now. You didn’t have anything to prove to him at this moment. You sat down on your bed and he followed suit. You sat in silence, heart beating out of your chest, waiting for him to say something, anything at all.

“I fucked up.” He broke the silence. He was looking down at the floor, playing with the black rings on his fingers. “I fucked up so bad again and I’m sorry. I fucking miss you.” He looked up at you with red, wet eyes as you turned your head to focus on him. You were stunned. Tears began to leak from his eyes and they were soon streaming down his face. 

You didn’t know what to say. There had been plenty of times where the two of you had gotten back together, yet you were the one crying and pleading, not the other way around. Not like now. This felt real. This felt genuine. Was it, though?

You were still frozen, staring at him with confusion written all over your face as he continued. “I don’t deserve you, dollface. I know that. But I want to prove to you that I can change.” He looked down at his shaking hands again, unable to continue looking at you as he spoke. “I still love you. I love you more than any dumb bitch I decided to fuck around on you with. They don’t compare to you. They never have.”

You were fully sober at this point. It was like all the fog in your brain had cleared.

Your breathing was getting heavy now. Your eyes welled with tears and your heart was racing impossibly fast. You didn’t know how to feel. Happy? Sad? Angry? Betrayed? Stupid? 

“I’ll do whatever I have to do to fix this.” He practically begged. “Say something. Please.” He choked out, looking at you, those beautiful brown eyes piercing into your soul. 

You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes. Your body began to shake with sobs and you felt Suguru wrap his arms around you and you didn’t stop him. Of course you didn’t. You were weak. Always there at his beck and call, forgiving him. You remembered the times you were on your knees begging and crying for him back when he did you wrong. 

Weak.

Pathetic.

Those were the words that repeated in your head as he guided you on your back, kissing you with such passion and vigor. He held you so delicately, like you would fall apart if he let you go. Maybe you would. 

Worthless.

Disgraceful.

Those were the words that clouded your mind as he removed your clothes, ever so slowly and kissed every inch of your body, including your tear filled face, eventually reaching your lips.

Stupid.

Gullible.

Those were the words that engraved in your brain when you kissed him back and let him give you orgasm after orgasm, all night long.

You woke up in the morning, feeling nothing but shame. He was asleep in your bed again, with the sun shining on his beautiful face. His eyes were closed and his bare chest was rising and falling slowly. Whenever he slept, he looked like he had no troubles whatsoever. He slept so peacefully, while you barely slept anymore. You spent your nights worrying if he was fucking around, out with the next woman. Every night he wasn’t in your bed, you didn’t sleep. You couldn’t, you were on the brink of panic attacks

You got up from your bed, slowly, careful not to wake him. He didn’t move a muscle as you grabbed your robe hanging from your closet and walked over to your in-suite bathroom. You looked over your shoulder once more to see him still sleeping soundly as you opened the door quietly, shutting it the same as you stepped inside.

You turned the light on in your bathroom and almost jumped when you saw your reflection. Your makeup was smeared, your hair was a disaster, and one of your false eyelashes had fallen off. You shook your head and quickly started your morning routine, not wanting to look at that fightful sight anymore. Once you finished brushing your teeth and doing your morning skincare routine, you attempted to fix your hair by simply brushing it back into a puff, making it look more presentable. 

You looked in the mirror again. 

Lifeless. 

Your eyes were lifeless. The eyes that once held happiness and joy now had no light. It was like everything had been drained from you. All emotion, energy, passion, and excitement was wiped from you. Your under eyes were darker than ever and your skin was dull. It was like you were a shell of your former self. 

You were shaking again. You were shaking so bad that your legs gave out from under you and you fell to the floor with a loud thud and a sob. Full blown sobs were coming from your mouth now and they couldn’t stop. You wrapped your arms around your body to try to calm your shakes and cries down but it didn’t seem to be working. 

You’d never felt so much pain or shame in your entire life. Why were you doing this to yourself? Why were you letting a man who obviously didn’t give two shits about you tear you apart? Why did you always go back? Why did you let him manipulate you, over and over again? 

You didn’t even notice when he walked in. You didn’t notice when he was wrapping his arms around you, begging and pleading with you to tell him what was wrong, to tell him what happened. You only came to when he was calling your name, distress and fear in his voice. Your eyes finally snapped up to him and relief flooded his teary eyes.

“What the fuck happened? What’s wrong?” He was holding your face in his hands, not caring about the snot and tears covering your skin. He looked so stressed, like his whole world was about to come crashing down. And maybe it was.

You looked down and managed to shake your head.

“What’s wrong?” He repeated, more firmly this time.

Your hands were still shaking. You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t let him continue to destroy your sense of self, destroy your life, destroy you.

“You are.” You muttered out, still looking at the floor, voice ice cold.

Suguru froze and gave you a stunned look. “I’m…what? I’m lost…” He trailed off. “What do you mean? What about last night?” He seemed to be putting together the pieces of what you were trying to say. 

“Fuck last night.” You said, bringing your eyes to his, fury held in them. “It’s not like you meant that shit anyways.” Your hands stopped shaking and were currently balled in fists at your side. 

He sat there in silence, still shocked at your words. 

You stood up from the floor and got a tissue to wipe the tears from your face. You turned your sink on and splashed your face with cold water, trying to remove the puffiness from your eyes. When you opened your eyes, he was standing behind you, looking at you in the mirror with hurt and anger written all over his face. “What do you mean I didn’t mean it? I was pouring my fucking heart out to you.” He was yelling now. “I meant it. I’m going to change-” You cut him off.

“You’ve had plenty of time to fucking change, Suguru. Two years in fact.” You said, voice laced with anger and hurt. “You expect me to believe you every time you say you're going to change? Everytime you apologize, I’m supposed to just be there, ready to forgive you?” You turned to face him now, wanting to look him straight in the eye.

“No that’s not-” He tried to say but you interrupted him once again.

“Then what the hell is it?” You were yelling now. “You always say you’re sorry but you’re not really remorseful. If you were truly sorry you would leave me the fuck alone!” You were looking at him with so much anger that you swear you could’ve seen fear in his eyes.

“Is that what you want?” He responded, coldly, all emotion gone from his eyes.

You froze. Was it? Were you really done? There was no going back after this. You couldn’t stick up for yourself and create these boundaries just to take them back. You couldn’t take him back. That would make you truly weak. 

“It is.” You tried to ignore the piercing pain in your heart as the words came out of your mouth. 

You tried to ignore the fast beating of your heart as he looked back at you with such coldness. It was like nothing you said even mattered to him. You tried to ignore the screams from your mind to chase after him as he left your bathroom to dress himself. You tried to ignore the tears streaming down your face as you heard the front door shut. It all became too hard to ignore as your body hit the floor again, sobs escaping you once more.

You woke up on your bathroom floor with a migraine and a heartache. Memories from earlier in the day flooded your mind as you got up and walked in your bedroom to climb into bed. As your body hit the sheets, memories of Suguru taking you over and over again crossed your mind and you shook your head, trying to shake them out of your brain (if that were possible.) 

You sighed and realized you should probably check your phone. Your best friend was probably worried about you and as much as you wanted to hide from the world, it wasn’t fair to not let her know you were safe.You braced yourself for the amount of texts and calls you would see from Andrea and wasn’t shocked to see way too many from her. You sighed and quickly dialed her number, even though the last thing you wanted to do right now was talk to anyone.

In Andrea fashion, she picked up on the first ring and immediately started yelling, which caused you to pull the phone away from your ear, wincing.

“Look who finally decided to answer. You have got to be fucking kidding me! You went home with him? Are you out of your Goddamn mind?!” She continued to yell. “I was worried sick about you! Nanami almost went to the police station before you finally responded to me.  Not to mention Choso. The poor baby was so worried and afraid something happened to you!” 

Your heart sank when you heard that. You forgot all about Choso. The sweet, sexy, quiet man that you left at the club with no explanation. You were so selfish. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying your company as much as you were enjoying his and you left him hanging. 

You waited for her to stop yelling at you before you responded. “Andrea, I’m so sorry. I was fine one second then I wasn’t the next. I started thinking about Suguru and I felt like I was going to throw up so I left. I was drunk out of my mind and I wasn’t thinking.” You begged her forgiveness. “I was having such a good time with him and everything just hit me out of nowhere. I know you did your best to get me to forget about him last night but I just couldn’t.” You explained, your heart strings tugging and voice cracking as you let everything out at once.

She let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. I was just worried.” She paused, worry in her voice. “What’s going on? You don’t sound okay. Did he do something to you?” Her voice was rising. 

Well, yes. But you couldn’t tell her that. She went out of her way to do nice things for you all day yesterday. There was no way you could tell her you fucked your ex-boyfriend she was trying so desperately to get you forget about last night. There was just no way. 

“I’m okay!” You tried your best to sound okay, to sound like your heart wasn’t about to leap out your chest. “Really, I’m okay. Suguru and I are done this time, for real.”

She tried to say something but you cut her off. 

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” You said firmly, breathing starting to roughen again. You didn’t want to cry again. 

There was a brief silence on the call before she spoke again. “Okay.” She accepted and you were shocked. She wasn’t one to let things go, but it seems like enough distress was in your voice to make her stop questioning you. 

“Well…” She started. “Choso really likes you, just so you know. He didn’t say it, but he seemed genuinely concerned when we couldn’t find you. It was the most emotion I’ve ever seen on his face.” She changed the subject quickly and you almost sighed from relief. You were out the hot seat, well kinda.

“Really?” You entertained her. It’s not like you didn’t find Choso intriguing. You definitely did. He was sexy, attentive, kind, intelligent, and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. However, you just didn’t know if you had the emotional and mental capacity to deal with another relationship, situationship, whatever. He was fun to talk to, and very fun to flirt with, but right now the thought of dating someone almost made you throw up in your mouth.

“Don’t worry, by the way! I told him you ended up taking an Uber home when you told me Suguru picked you up last night. I didn’t want to ruin your game.” You could feel her smirk through the phone. 

‘There’s no game to be played.’ You almost let out, but didn’t. You really didn’t want to let her in on anything right now. All you wanted to do was distract your mind in any way possible, even if that meant entertaining your friend’s failed attempt at matchmaking. 

You wanted to take this time to heal, to really better yourself. So that’s what you were going to do.

Maybe.

Chapter Three is up

[kessellluvr]

playing dangerous - NSFW

kink-/fluffmas day six

distracting hayley while knuck is in jail :0

pairing: dom!hayley (outlaws 2017) x afab!reader

warnings: cheater!hayley, sub!reader, fingering, face riding, bondage, office sex, jealous sex

you and hayley had known eachother for about three years now, always got along.. well about a week after knuck was sent to jail you’d notice hayley’s changed behaviour - she was more bossy, more dominant. you wondered why she acted like this towards you but you never really questioned it.

you were apart of their club for about 3 years. you’d always loved driving the bike and since your older brother was a part of the copperheads australia - you decided to join too. you helped them out in the clubhouse, serving drinks at the bar. you were gorgeous so of course, some of the men came to flirt with you.. but you werent intrested in them at all.

you’d notice hayley trying to not stare to obvious whenever one of them old creeps tried to hit on you, you just knew she was boiling with jealousy.

..one night after the club had closed for the day - at around 2am, you finished cleaning some shot glasses, it was only you and hayley in the club and she was drunk… anytime her man wasnt around she would just drink, not even caring if ot affected her behaviour. you quietly sang along with the music playing in the background, using two fingers and your towel to dry out the inside of a shot glass. you were pretty sure hayley couldnt hear your humming, she was probably already in a deep sleep upstairs in her office. you finished all your little glasses and put them in the cabinet, drying off your hands before going to check on hayley one last time.

you softly knocked the door to her office and heard her groan. “who is it?!” she exclaimed - you turned the handle and stood in the doorway, seeing her laying on the sofa. “oh you..” she murmed to herself, her tone a little more.. excited maybe? she gestured for you to come sit next to her, so you closed the door behind you and sat down next to her, she sat up straight and looked down at you. “you know.. i dont like seeing those weirdos hitting on you.” she said, trailing her index finger along your jawline, making you shiver. you were suprised by her words “oh.. why?” you asked her, looking up into her brown eyes with a red shimmer, the perfect contrast to your light, innocent ones. hayley’s hand went to wrap around your neck - your eyes widening, “..cause youre mine..” she hissed, her grip wasn’t painful but also not very comfortable.. but you couldnt help but feel the dampness in your panties growing. “y-yours..?” you squeezed out and she kept intense eye contact, her grip tightening slightly to drive home her point. “mine.” she whispered in a deep tone, her hand leaving your neck and placing both on either side of your hips - pulling you up onto her lap, you whimpered silently. she grinned at you and the back of her hand went to caress your cheek “dont be scared.. ill keep you safe..“ she said, her tone softening.

you looked down at her face, your lips parted, wanting nothing more than to pull her in for a kiss. „do it..“ she temped, as if she could see right through you. you knew this was a dangerous game.. but you slowly leant in, her soft plump lips crashing into yours as she pulled your closer by your ass, hands grasping desperately. as you started making out - whimpering and not caring if any of the other men in the house heard. you slowly ground your hips against hers - trying to hint what you wanted, your panties were completely soaked at this point.

hayley pulled away and flipped your down so you laid on your back on the couch, hayley straddling your hips. „hold your hands together above your head..“ she commanded in a whisper, you nodded, holding your wrist together above your head and watching her take off her shirt, using it as ‚rope‘ to secure your wrists together. you couldnt help bur stare at her bra clad breasts, feeling a deep lust to feel them.. as you were busy staring at her tits, her hands moved to undo the buttons of your jeans, shoving them down and throwing them aside and revealing your panties.. and the wet spot on them. „awh look at that..“ she hummed, trailing a finger up your clothed slit before slipping it into your panties and tugging them down to your ankles. „youre so so wet.. do you really like me that much, hmm?“ and you nodded. „y-yes.. youre so.. fine..“ you managed to stutter out - causing her smirk to widen, she let her middle and ring finger wander up your slit once more, making your squirm and whimper. she used her thumb to tease your swollen, slightly wet clit before pushing her fingers into your throbbing hole - making your moan loudly, followed by you biting your lip and your cheeks turning red with embarrassment. „dont hold back, little one.. let them know what im making you feel.“

she kept finger-fucking you like that, your hips thrusting in rhythm with her fingers, desperate moans escaping your lips as you felt yourself nearing climax - your eyes rolling back in your skull as she curled her long, slendery fingers. your legs shuddering as you cried out in pleasure, your ejaculate came dripping out your cunt as she pulled her fingers out, looking at your with those hungry eyes. „good girl..“

as you came down from your high she tightened the restraints around your wrists once more, she undid her ripped jeans and threw them aside alomg with her panties too. she positioned her hips over your face „now your gonna eat mommy like the good slut you are.. yeah?“ she demanded, locking her cunt onto your lips - you welcomed her, of course. licking a long stripe from her hole to her clit before taking the bundle of nerves between your lips and starting to suck it carefully. hayls let out a soft moan, her hips started grinding against your face - trying to get more friction so you started sucking harder and more desperately, occasionally dipping your tounge into her pussy - as deep as you could. as you felt hayley’s breath get more ragged and her hip movements more messy, you knew she was close and you wanted nothing more than to see this woman cum for you.

and just like that.. a few more sucks and licks and she was cumming for you, her warmth spilling onto your lips - you, of course, eagerly swallowing them. when hayley catched her breath, she collapsed onto your chest, cheek pressing against your breast. she looked up at you and smiled - leaning in to give you a forehead kiss „mine.“

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[uhzuku]

I don't think this fits what you were going for, but now I'm thinking about being on a date w Endeavor, it's a fancy place, both of you dressed up nicely. And while he's ordering wine you sneak your foot up to press between his legs, and you can see his eyes darken the moment you do. But there's not much he can do about it, so his voice just gets a little more gravelly as the waiter keeps chatting about different flavour profiles. You're smiling like a satisfied cat and you can just see that Enji is about to snap. The moment the waiter finally leaves, you're about to pull your foot back down, but you're too slow. His hand wrapping around your ankle while he gives you a glare, lowly hissing that you should behave

SCREAMING HIS FACE WOULD GET ALL RED AND HIS VOICE WOULD GET ALL HUSKY AND EVENTUALLY HE’D ONLY BE ABLE TO LIKE. GRUNT AT THE WAITER AND HRDBEHFBURNCJFJFBCJF

god this is just making me think of domming him soooo good like. the date ends and you take him home and he THINKS that he’s abt to tear you a new one via pussy/ass destruction and then you just flip everything?? and suddenly he’s moaning on the bed and begging you to ride him faster and ‘please let me cum, i’m so close-!’ and i just dhcbrhxngndj

OR OR OR him taking you home and doing jusssttttt what he planned out ( even though really he’d not planned it, unless the two of u were already official yk <3 ) and rearranging ur guts sooooooo good and then at the end when it’s cuddle time u get to just tease him and be like ‘u liked that right? shit got ur attention a lil too well huh’ w a shit-eating grin and all he can do is grit his teeth and tug you closer and demand u just go to sleep bc he doesn’t want to admit that he likes u being bossy~

[yandere-fics]

Hmmm... Entitled sister miriel... nepo baby... Hold on... Domineering sister that likes to control and leash Miriel. They understand they're soulmates and the domineering sister uses that to her advantage. "I got you a collar so everyone knows who you belong to my dear Miriel. Of course everyone knows who I belong to, I'm holding your leash after all." She's almost constantly forcing Miriel to sit still while leaving hickies and bite marks on parts that'll be most visible throughout the day. Miriel also has a tag on her collar that says "property of (S/N)" along with an address and contact information. Dom sister also LOVES to embarrass Miriel in public, especially during dates. Slowly turning up the remove on Miriel's vibes, giving her a shock through the collar..... Yes.... YES.... I might be about to go evil.

Miriel is also a lot more bossy too though, constantly ruining things for her sister because she's the only one allowed reader's attention, she'll be a good big sister but that also means you have to be good and give her all your love and attention or she'll flip out and start bawling.

[breanime]

Okay, I got to know: who is the mean Dom and who is the nice/soft Dom, Finan or Sihtric?

This ask hit me like a shot of espresso, I am INTRIGUED by this question! Intrigued, I say!

So here's what I think...

Smut under the cut

First of all, my mind immediately went to THROUPLE mode, so in the lense of Finan and Sihtric sharing you...

I think Finan would be the mean dom, and not very mean, mind you, but he would tease you about how needy you are, how wet they made you, the noises you make, the way you tremble under his big hands--he's a talker, this we know. And beyond the teasing, he would love to make demands of you in bed-- never past your limits, absolutely never-- but he's bossy, and he likes being able to tell you what to do. Better yet, he likes to use his considerable strength to manhandle you around. If he wants you ass up, he'll grab your waist, pick you up, and flip you over with ease. Finan is STRONG, whatever you want him to do to you, he will do and he won't break a sweat. I also think he'll love to overstimulate you, and he's such a fucking tease about it, he'll laugh in your face as you shake and sob around him 💗

Now the other one...

Sihtric is a man who loves battle, but doesn't like to raise his voice. This is a soft dom. Sihtric will soothe you while Finan teases, shush you when you cry and kiss you slowly. But he's also a man who loves a thrill, to feel himself at his peak, a crescendo of adrenaline and emotion that he can only get when in battle or in you. So Sihtric will fuck you deeply. Relentlessly. He'll whisper soft words and his lips would be feather soft against your hot skin, but by the Gods, Sihtric will fuck you like it is the last time, everytime. And hold you, cradled between him and Finan, so softly afterwards.

Anyway, I know that wasn't a real answer and I know like... 3 and a half things about dom/sub culture but you got my wheels turning on this one! Thanks for the random question! You're the best!! 💗

[mermaidsirennikita]

I think that because our culture is saturated (beyond books) with depictions of male doms and female subs, with dommes often depicted in this OTT professional dominatrix (but not rlly) context, people have a very skewed idea of what a domme is. I mean, they also have a skewed idea of what a male dominant is, but like. You know.

Plus, there seems to be this ongoing perception of male submissives as like... Golly Gee ma'am guys in their everyday life, when like. First off, sexual submission does not have to have anything to do with your everyday life. Second of all, not entirely inaccurate stereotype is that people who bust balls in their everyday life prefer to have their balls (or alternate part of the anatomy) busted in the bedroom. Also, it's simply a lot easier to find subs than it is to find (halfway decent) doms/dommes.

Anyway, books people should read to see interesting depictions of femdom, which doesn't always reflect everyone's real life experience, because that is impossible, but which shows the spectrum.

Memoir:

The Scarlett Letters by Jenny Nordbak. Jenny Nordbak is a popular romance novel voice, and a romance novelist herself; she's written books like Her Leading Lady (on my list!). The memoir is about her time working in a dungeon and training as a dominatrix. It's very entertaining and candid, a good look into her experience.

Historical Romance:

Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale. Obviously I'm on fire for this book. The magical device here is that Elayne is very young and just kind of stumbles into domming Allegreto, but we'll allow that because this book is like... almost magical in its sensibility, and truly epic. The focus here is on the inflicting of pain and restraints, and the idea that by accepting Elayne's punishment, Allegreto is feeling a form of release (and then RELEASE), while Elayne, someone whose journey involves men attempting to control her, gets to take charge. Elayne's narrative is one of finding out what it really means to owner her power, and Allegreto is the one man who will truly serve her in every sense of the word; in turn, she offers him a safe place for his needs to be met, as well as time to relinquish the control and guardedness he's carried since childhood.

Would I Lie to the Duke by Eva Leigh. What I like here is that there's no big reason why either one of them is into it, they're just into it. He's a duke, she's a working class woman, and I think that power flip gets both of them off, but mostly it's just fun.

The Duke I Tempted by Scarlett Peckham. Another "release-seeking" thing surrounding pain and bondage. The thing here is that the hero really needs this to be a part of his life in order for him to feel good, but I don't think it's in innate need for the heroine. However, once she learns about it, she's into it, and she LOVES taking care of him on that level. It's a good example of domming as an act of caretaking. He seeks pros on a non-sexual level before the heroine finds out, and her wanting to take that role is something he doesn't expect at all.

Contemporary:

Preferential Treatment by Heather Guerre. A good example of a bratty sub her, who happens to be a billionaire, and a heroine who also uses a specific type of financial domination with him. I appreciate how structured this was, and how the author used the structure as a device for the hero to avoid confronting his feelings. Also, shows us that while the heroine dominates him sexually, he can still hurt her emotionally. The power dynamic is not unilateral across their lives.

Mercy by Sara Cate. Obviously, another bratty hero, and gives us again a level of structure... But another really good example of a woman who really isn't super bossy in her everyday life. She is, however, a control freak. The confusion people often have with projecting D/s onto fictional characters, imo, is the idea that "bossiness" equals "control" and that the two must go together.

Anyway, not an expert. Just my take. I find this all *fascinating*.

I think people in a certain HR fandom need to have a convo about exactly what a dom(me) is vs. like, her being on top for a hot minute and him enjoying it.

[noocturnalchild]

BLIND

One shot for our favorire detective Flip Zimmerman x reader ! 

Warning : Smut , NSFW, Sub!reader 

********************************************

“Hey you”

He threw his keys and cigarette packet on the table and clicked his boots towards you, as you busied yourself in his kitchen. He lifted the pot’s cover and inhaled the scent of the stew you were making. It was really not much. He said nothing, as was his habit, but you could tell from his nostrils flaring and the tiny smile that graced his lips that he was content.

“Hey” you shyly replied.

You liked him coming home to you putting yourself to use. It was the least you could do.

A couple months ago, Flip fished you out from a pretty shitty situation and shittier life you didn’t want to recall anymore. He offered you to stay with him till you figured your life out and you accepted, right away. Mere months that seemed like eons ago, and you were more than grateful for him, for that big sassy grump, cladded in his eternal plaid flannels.

“Bedroom is off limits” he said the first time you set foot in his house, with a serious look and a more serious tone, and you just nodded, apprehensive, but then he compensated, made sure you were more than comfortable in the guest room that became yours,  bought you new curtains, put in the trash the old gloomy pieces and replaced them with light and pretty ones, made sure to fix them himself. You thanked him more than necessary that day, and he just hummed.

Flip was bossy and secretive as fuck, always chain-smoking, everywhere, outside, in his pick-up, inside the house, his living room, the kitchen, his bedroom, everywhere, chewing on the stick of a cigarette and frowning at some documents that he always kept away from your curious glances.

“Go play away, girl” he would say, frowning even more as you pouted, just to smile when you turned your back to him, doing just what he asked, playing away.

You liked to keep his house tidy. He had little furniture, just the functional stuff, but you managed to insert, here and there, glasses full of flowers you picked up on the sidewalks, arranging them in what you thought were pretty bouquets and putting them in his large glasses, displaying them in the kitchen and the living room. He never commented, eyeing the things and walking around, frowning at his documents and cigarettes.

His place was warmer since you got to stay with him, he came to a nice dinner every night and the house smelled better, he noticed it all, but refrained from saying shit about it, ignoring the good changes, afraid of getting used to them just to lose it all in the coming months. He knew you were temporary here, and he hated to think about the day you were going to announce that you’d found a decent job that would allow you to pay rent and live by your own means. He actually dreaded the whole thing, mildly panicking every time he saw you, leaning over some newspaper, circling the job announcements you found interesting, just to breathe out of relief every time you came home disgusted, bitching about how awful the boss was or the dirty places you went to or just something. He would cheer you up halfheartedly and go out smoking.

“Well, there’s always tomorrows y/n”

And you always smiled at that.

As big a man as he was, He still wasn’t comfortable around you, when you slid closer to him, you both on the couch, casually watching the baseball games on Saturday nights. Or when he bumped into you in the bathroom, in your sleep clothes, and tried not to stare too long at your tits, obviously free from any constraints under those thin sleep shirts you liked to wear.

Sometimes he felt sick of himself, thinking of you in ways he shouldn’t, so he just kept keeping his distances, closing himself off, as you kept being good to him, always cheerful and happy around him, like a bee, his little bee.

Often, he came home very late, tired, exhausted. He let himself black out on the couch and when you woke up, late at night, to drink some water or go to the bathroom and you saw him all crumpled on himself on the couch, you made sure to take off his boots and cover him carefully. That, he knew. You also tucked away rebel hair strands off his eyes and watched him snore for a while, and smiled to the rare peaceful face he made when asleep, and of course, this, he would never know.

You knew he worked hard, you knew that he was like he was because of it. All the horror of crimes, all sort of wicked fuckers he dealt with everyday, the interrogatories, the stress, the anger and the nerves of his fucking job, the guns and the hematomas on dead corpses. Photographs, hundreds of them between his folders, hours and days of collecting evidence and sometimes pursuing false tracks, and you would expect him to come home to you with a fucking smile plastered on his face? Of course not, and if you were there, you better make yourself useful and alleviate some of this burden, and not expect a single thank you in return.

*

That night too, Flip came in late, very late, and collapsed on his couch, boots and jacket on. You watched him as he started snoring right away, brows pinched together, even in his sleep. It had been an exceptionally rough day, you concluded, and smiled to him nonetheless. You reached to free him of his leather boots, and he sighed in his slumber, burying his face under his arm. He was obviously uncomfortable, and instead of covering him as was your habit, you decided to push your luck a bit.

“Flip”

You whispered, close to his face, and his eyelids fluttered, selling him out. You smiled.

He ignored you but you were determined.

“Flip?” you shook his shoulder a bit and he grumbled “Come on please, go to sleep, let me take this jacket off you at least, you will be hot and bothered with it on all night” you continued, always whispering as he groaned low, tucking  his face further into his sleeves and you laughed this time.

Emboldened, you grabbed his hand and pushed him up, and it startled him, your bold move; his eyes widened, challenging you to push further.

“Don’t push your luck with me, feather weight!” he threatened you, fully awake now. But you just laughed and you saw him hide an amused smile. It was a game then.

You pushed again, two hands pulling on one big warm paw. His hand was so big, why was it so big?

“Come on Flip, please just this time” you whined, as he closed his eyes again, fully conscious.

“Please” you sang, “ it’s for your own good, you know”.

No reaction.

“I want you to have a good sleep tonight, Flip, come on” you said, softer, and he blinked, slowly opening his eyes, and this time he let you drag him off the couch. He shrugged off his jacket in one swift movement, then, docile, he let you guide him to his bedroom. It was suddenly too quiet, him just looking at you as you walked backward, hand always in his much bigger one.

You knew that his bedroom was sacred territory, but he didn’t say a thing when you didn’t stop at his door and continued to walk backward to his bed. He kept his eyes locked on yours, intense brown pupils daring you to stop, or not to. You decided to act on your instincts and kept going, holding your breath. He finally sat on the edge of his bed, and before you thought of letting go of his hand and stop the dangerous game you were both playing, he threw his big body backward, taking you down with him with little effort, making you both bounce on his mattress.  

You stayed like that for seconds, you on top of him, laid there, not daring breathe or move or speak.

Fast heartbeats and ragged breaths filled the quiet 3 am night. You didn’t move off him, you didn’t scream or run away, no, you didn’t push him away when he slowly put his arms around you, pressed you up a bit, tightly against him so your face was leveled with his. He looked at you with heavy lidded eyes, searching for something in yours, and he found it.

“Didn’t I say, bedroom. is. off. limits?” he shook you a little with each word and something in you ignited, at the deep low rumble he used to talk to you, at the veiled half threat, half promise of it.

“I… I’m sorry” you barely breathed, lips dangerously close to his, and he smirked.

“That’s it. You’re a good girl, you know that?” he whispered, nudging your nose, close, closer, too close.

Your heart wasn’t the only part of you that fluttered at his words, as you felt warmth spreading through your veins, and your body vibrated against his. He smirked again, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet and sleepy kiss. You let him, closed your eyes, then kissed him back, tentative little licks at his lips, he hummed a little and you responded with a moan.

“Hungry?” he asked. You couldn’t but nod, already feeling desire overwhelming you, wanting him to talk to you again in that tone of his, but it was his fingers that started to toy with your shirt instead. Your hands responded, rubbing and pulling on his flannel, and his muscles tensed as your lips caught fire, licking and biting and sucking at his, stopping only to catch your breath.

“Fierce little thing” he panted, reaching for your ass, patting it through the light shorts you were wearing just to pinch it hard, big hands splayed on both cheeks, squeezing hungrily as you moaned against his neck again, breath hot, burning his already excited skin.

“Flip …please”

Your hands reached for his flannel buttons, trembling fingers trying to get rid of the fucking fabric that stood in your way but he yanked your hand off and glared.

“You think you can spoil my rest, come to my room and do as you please, and get away with it like that?”

You hiccupped, frustration and hunger coiling in your stomach, pulsing in your core… This man, his voice, his tone, the look in his eyes, glistening in the dark.

“I’m sorry… please… Flip, let me” you begged, shameless, hips starting to grind against his and he groaned.

“Little bee” he puffed and rolled you on your back, looked at you as his hand reached to both your wrists trapping them up behind your head.

“Lights on, wanna see you” he let go of one hand, let you reach for the night stand, fiddle with the switch of his night-light until you managed to get it right. Dim light spread across the room, making your eyes squint a bit as he took you in, sucking on his lips when his eyes fell on your obvious hard nipples under your see-through night tee.

“See, much better. You look beautiful”

You blushed at the sudden soft tone, at the look of complete awe mixed with hunger he gave you.

“Flip.. I… I wanted this…you for so long”

“I know, doll, ain’t blind”

He dived into you, without restraint, mouth squeezing your perked buds through the thin fabric. He sucked at them, moaned into them, wetted the material, rolled his tongue, using teeth and spit as you arched your back, pushed your tits into his hot mouth, moaned high, hands both trapped in one big fist.

God, he was so hard, hard the minute he took you to bed with him. You were doing this to him, taking him out of his mind, out of his life, out of his shitty work, his shitty problems, and all the ugly things, all at once, making him feel good, so good, out of his mind.

“I thought you were…” you said when he let you catch your breath, and you bit your lip at the nerve of it.

He gave you a confused look.

“Blind” you breathed.

And his eyes turned sad and thoughtful, and he kissed your neck, slow and aching.

“Nah…” he sucked at your pulsing spot.

“I knew” another kiss.

“I know it all” another lick “want it all” a moan.

“with you”

Your body was just one tense chord, pleasure striking you, hot white heat between your thighs.

“I want you to keep doing all the pretty little things you do… those things you do for me , ya know, your little flowers and your pretty smiles, hum?”

He cupped your chin, looking at you tenderly, making you smile again, eyes fogged with happy tears as you nodded .

“Let me take these off then” you whispered, eyeing his clothes. God, he was still fully clothed, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He kissed you again, tongue battling with yours as he freed your hands that went tangling in his silky hair immediately, tousling his dark locks. You hummed in satisfaction but found little relief, so your hands fled to his flannel again, tugging it off, pulling angrily at his undershirt, sending it to the floor, not losing a second as your fingers began to unzip his jeans, freeing him of the heavy fabric before taking him in, heavy short breaths escaping your parted lips. You could swear you were drooling, as you flattened your palm on the hard planes of his abdomen, feeling the tremors and the heat of his belly, before traveling to his crotch, sensing his hot heavy cock as it pulsed with need, and you both closed your eyes for a second, reveling in the moment.

He hissed when you experimentally started to stroke him through his boxers, hazy eyes focused on your task as you sat on your knees. You pressed kisses to his stomach, flickered your tongue on his belly button, licking there, hand always working on his length, caressing his balls ghostly as he tried to control his breath, fisted your hair, played with it in his big strong hands, scratched your scalp gently, seeking your attention.

“Phillip…”

“It’s a risky game you playing down there, little bee, isn’t it?”

It was the first time you used his name like that, and you looked up, just to be met with the silver glint of a thin chain around his neck that caught your eyes. Small pretty six branch silver star decorated it.

You’d never seen him wear it, you’d never noticed it, tucked away under his shirts. It was just normal; you’d never seen him without a shirt before tonight, big shy grump that he was.

You couldn’t resist as you jumped up in his arms, pecking at his chain on his skin, peppering small kisses around it, pulling with your teeth on the silver thing, it took his breath away.

“You want me that much?” he let out a hoarse laugh, his hands were everywhere.

“Yeah… yes… I do” you buried your mouth in his chest, sucking at his nipple. Sloppy and wet.

“You don’t know what you doing to me, drooling over me like that” he panted, and his fingers wandered south, seeking your heat through your night shorts. You were embarrassingly wet, and you gasped and whined when he brushed your clit through the fabric.

“Be good to me, lay on your back”, he commanded and you obliged. You reached for your sticky tee to pull it off but he stopped you, hunched it up just under your breasts, and fisted it with one strong hand.

“No. This stays.”

He slapped one breast, making both joggle. You hiccupped again, arched your back. Round dark stains formed on the fabric around your tits, wet from his spit and your sweat and he seemed so satisfied of his doing.

With one swift movement, he yanked your shorts down with your panties, exposing your wet pussy to his prying eyes.

“Spread those pretty legs baby, let me see”

And you did.

“How do you want me?” You smiled to him, dizzy.

“Like that” he glared, ogling you.

And he splayed two fingers down your wet slit, massaging your entrance, pinching at your sensitive pink folds, rolling your clit, toying with it, making you quiver under his touch, whine and moan and drool on his sheets as your eyes rolled shut from the languid pleasure he was giving you.

His cock was painfully hard now, straining in his briefs, wanting relief. He pulled at your hand, brought it to his erection and guided it, slid it up and down. You teased his head, splaying your middle finger on the wet spot that pre cum formed on his slit, rubbing gentle circles that made him shudder.

“Fuck y/n, pull it off ..off.. fuck”

He was losing it, with the way you took his free cock in your small hand, the way you pumped it gently between your fingers, caressed the swollen veins, teased the head some more, cupped his balls, rolled them softly, moaned at just the sight of it… but god, when you sat back up and kissed it, parted those pretty lips of yours and gave it a loud kiss on the head, god, he felt it twitch, spasm, ready to burst.

“I swear to God y/n…” He barely breathed.

You smiled teasingly at him as you let yourself fall back on his pillows, and rolled your hips to remind him of his stilled fingers in your pussy. He decided to punish you a little and pushed two big fingers right in you, making you cry out. He didn’t let you recover as he started pumping them and curling them inside, in and out, fast, rough, punctuated by his ragged breaths and the slapping of skin as he fucked his cock into his fist, eyes glued to your pussy, to the sight of your hole greedily swallowing his fingers to the knuckles.

You reached for your stiff clit that needed attention, chasing an orgasm that started to creep in the pit of your belly, fire licking at your skin. He let you, spurred you on, praised you, and you moaned for him, moaned like a whore, like you never did in bed, with anyone.

“Go on baby, cum for me, cum for me here …let that tight pussy milk my fingers”

Your vision shattered, white pleasure shaking your limbs in erratic spasms as your hips jerked up and your head rolled back. He stilled his fingers, drenched in your cum, pressed them to your sweet spot, collecting some more before bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean as he watched you coming down from your high.

You were so glad Flip was a natural secluded guy, choosing to live in a quiet sheltered place. You got only tall trees and crickets and squirrels as witnesses of your 3 am hot sex symphony.

“Good?” he asked and you nodded, catching your breath.

“Good. Now, doll, what is that you’re staring at?” he asked, voice deep, deep, as he played with his cock, teasing you.

“Your cock, sir. I’m staring at your cock” you purred.

Damn, you wanted to kill him?

“Let me hear that again” he said in his threatening tone, the one that made your insides melt again, begging for him.

“You cock, SIR.” you punctuated your last word, making his cock jump in his hand, and he squeezed the base, preventing himself from coming there and then as he decided to play with you a little longer, make you wait for it.

“Ahuh? Like what you see?” he tapped the head on your flushed pussy folds, started to gather your wetness, teasing you.

You squirmed “Yes, sir, I do”

“Want to take it?” he reached to one perked nipple, twisted it.

“Mghm.. Yeah” you pushed you hips into his cock, trying to get the tip in you, in vain. “Yeah, please, give it to me, I want your big cock, sir”. You were desperate.

“Want that fat cock?, huh, doll face?”

“Oh yeah, want it, need it, please put it in me” you mewled.

He didn’t need to hear more, grabbed your hips with two big hands, and pushed in. You both groaned from the intensity of it. The heat of it, the intimacy of it. You both reached for one another, wanting to take one another’s hand, knot your fingers together, connect, connect, connect.

“Fuck y/n… has been a while baby, you’re impossibly tight” he panted in your neck. He was impossibly thick and you were impossibly tight and it was heady, the feeling of his body flush against you, hands entwined, legs entangled, his scent invading your head, his facial hair tickling at your collarbone as he babbled, plush lips kissing every patch of skin available, lost in you, just as lost in you as you were lost in him… You whimpered and tried to push him further, deeper into you, angled your hips so your thighs were squeezing his, heels digging in his flesh, and he moved in and out of you, slow torturous motions, driving you both insane.

“Fuck Phillip, faster please…ah-“

He liked how his name sounded on your lips, and hell if he would deny you anything. He backed up a little bit and nudged his nose with yours, pressed his forehead to yours as you trapped your legs around his waist, giving him better access and you nodded.

He then started a faster rhythm, and you could hear your pussy making those obscene noises from it being fucked so good and fast and deep, balls slapping your ass, as his pubic hair scraped your clit, drowning you in pleasure and anticipation. Your nails scratched the back of his neck, your teeth nibbled at his earlobe.

He tracked your mouth and kissed you hard and rough, his silver chain batting at his chest as his hips went wild and your moans high, loud, vulgar. You didn’t care.

“Gonna fuck you so good baby doll, gonna fill you up so good, stretch that tight pussy so good” he breathed in your mouth, and you felt your second orgasm building so fast through your veins. God, you liked his cock, you liked how he moved his hips. He knew exactly what to do with you, he was one talented man, but his voice, it was just on another level, you could cum only from him talking to you like that.

“Please Phillip, just talk to me and I’ll cum”

“Ahuh? Really baby? God you killing me you know? You’re so good to me, look at yourself, taking my cock so nice, huh, Look at your pretty tits bouncing from taking my cock, pussy sucking cum outta that cock, fuck!” he rolled his hips in tight hard circles, and that was it. you spasmed under him, gasped in his mouth and he swallowed your cries in a searing kiss, as your pussy gushed around his cock, milked it, clenched around it.

“Did so good baby, yeah just like that”

He fucked you through your climax, so close now, knew it was coming, so fast and hard as his balls tightened. He pulled your legs up, hooked them on his shoulders, balanced his weight on his knees, and watched as his cock slid in and out your cunt, drenched in your cum and sweat.

He was so beautiful like that, you thought in your haze, face focused, those brows pinched together, again, but for completely different reasons this time. Locks of hair beating on his face, chain beating up his flushed chest, so beautiful as he pounded you, rammed into you, big hands manhandling you, so masculine and strong. Definition of sex.

His hips jerked, cock twitched in your pussy and he pulled out. He wanted you to see his load of cum as it burst out of his slit, jets of thick white ropes painting your belly and tits. His cock twitched and jolted again, leaking some more, until it was all over your body, hot and slick on your gleaming skin.

You splayed your fingers on your body, collected it and spread it some more on your skin, humming and buzzing in pure bliss as you watched your man recover from his high, staring at you, shaking his head in disbelief and amazement.

“Fuck baby that was… So hot” he huffed, incredulous, and you both laughed.

“Come here big man” you opened your arms for him and smiled, all teeth. He threw his big self on you, still laughing as you combed his hair with your fingers, and kissed him soft and sweet behind his ear.

“Can we go grab a bite now?” he asked after he took extra care cleaning you both up. He extended his hand, and you took it, beaming at him.

“You mean breakfast?”

“Don’t tell me…” Flip reached for his alarm clock , whistled long and incredulous when he saw the time. 5:45 am, no fucking way.

The first bird started its song outside, mocking him, and you laughed.

“What should I do with you now? keeping me awake all night huh?” He spanked your ass, playful as he grabbed for his first cigarette of the day and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Won’t be the last night, I tell you” You bit your lip as you took his hand, leading him to his kitchen.

“Ahuh, you smartass” but he smiled, kissed you again, knowing exactly that it wouldn’t.