#he’s mirroring him in every fucking way

[moonlightwritingf1]

All His | LN4

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finally gives in to the tension Y/N has been teasing him with all night, determined to remind her exactly who she belongs to. Their night quickly turns into something possessive, filthy, and intimate—him whispering promises of breeding her, worshipping her body, and filling her until she can’t take any more. Even after he cums, he doesn’t stop.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི word count ━━━━━━━ 3.4k

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, breast play, nipples play, mirror sex, multiple positions, rough sex, dirty talk

Based on this request.

Y/N lay sprawled across the plush, white sheets of his bed, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the ache between her thighs. Lando stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, his hands on his hips, his eyes burning into her with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something possessive.

“You’re not getting away with it tonight,” he said, his voice low and teasing, the corners of his mouth curling into that smirk that always made her stomach flutter.

She arched a brow, propping herself up on her elbows. “Getting away with what?” she asked, her tone innocent, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her.

“Playing this game.” He stepped closer, his fingers trailing up her calf, sending a shiver through her. “You’ve been teasing me all night, love. And now you’re lying there looking like that, expecting me to just...” He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly. “No. Not tonight.”

She laughed softly, stretching her legs out before pulling them back, her toes brushing against his stomach. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, though her breath hitched as his hand moved higher, his thumb brushing the inside of her thigh. “What exactly do you plan to do about it?”

Lando leaned down, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her lips. “I’m going to make sure you remember who you belong to,” he murmured, his voice dripping with intent. “Every time you squirm, every time you moan... you’ll know it’s because of me. Because I’m the one who gets to have you like this.”

Her heart raced, her body responding to his words before he even touched her. She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off with a deep, searing kiss that left her breathless. His hands were everywhere—tangled in her hair, gripping her waist, tracing the curve of her spine—and she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but feel.

When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her chest heaving. He smirked again, that damned smirk, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “See? You’re already falling apart for me.”

She narrowed her eyes, though the effect was ruined by the way her body leaned into his. “You’re insufferable,” she said, her voice shaky.

“And yet,” Lando drawled, his voice thick with amusement and something darker, something possessive, “you’re not stopping me.” His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her shorts, his touch deliberate and unhurried. The moment his fingertips brushed against her bare skin, she gasped, her body tensing as if electrified.

Her breath hitched, her hips arching ever so slightly, betraying her need. “Lando...” His name escaped her lips in a breathy whisper, more plea than protest.

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “No underwear, huh?” he teased, his fingers dipping lower, finding her already slick with arousal. “Seems like you were planning this all along, love.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she bit her lip, her eyes locking with his as his fingers explored her, tracing her folds with a maddening slowness. “You ruin me,” she breathed, though her hips betrayed her, grinding against his hand as if begging for more.

“And yet,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, “you’re fucking soaked for me.” His fingers pressed against her entrance, teasing but not entering, drawing a desperate whine from her lips. “Tell me, Y/N,” he prompted, his thumb circling her clit with torturous precision, “how much do you want me to make you come right now?”

Her hands fisted the sheets, her body trembling under his touch. “Lando, please...” she begged, her voice breaking as he slipped a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, filling her in a way that made her toes curl.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Say it again. Say it like you mean it.”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching into his hand. “Please... don’t stop.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes dark with hunger. “That’s my girl.”

His fingers started to move inside her slowly, almost teasingly, as if he were savoring every inch of her. She could feel herself growing wetter, slick with arousal, her body arching instinctively toward him, desperate for more. His breath was hot against her ear, his voice a low, sensual rumble that sent shivers cascading down her spine. “Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing her neck in a way that made her shiver. “Tell me you want me to fill you up. To make you mine in every way.”

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping the sheets tighter as his fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot that made her cry out softly. “Lando...” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, her heart pounding in her chest.

He didn’t let up, his thumb circling her clit with a maddening rhythm that made her see stars. “Say it, love,” he urged, his voice rough with desire, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that left her breathless. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to put a baby inside you, to brand you as mine forever.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away from the heat in his gaze. Instead, she pressed her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his as she whispered, “Yes, Lando. I want you... I want you to fill me up, to make me yours in every way.”

He smirked, that smug, knowing smirk that always sent a thrill through her. “You drive me fucking insane,” he purred, his voice dripping with praise that made her cheeks flush despite the heat pooling between her thighs.

His fingers trailed away from her wetness, and she whimpered at the sudden loss, but he didn’t leave her wanting for long. His hands moved to the waistband of her shorts, yanking them down her legs in one swift motion, leaving her bare from the waist down, completely exposed to his hungry gaze.

But he wasn’t finished.

His eyes roamed over her, dark and greedy, before shifting to the thin fabric still covering her chest. He leaned over her, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her top, dragging it slowly upward until her breasts spilled free. She arched instinctively, gasping at the sudden cool air against her flushed skin as he peeled the top over her head and tossed it aside.

Now she was fully bare beneath him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, eyes roaming every inch of her with reverence and hunger. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never.”

She shivered under his gaze, her body tingling with anticipation. His hand moved to his own shorts, palming the bulge that strained against the fabric. He was hard as a rock, the outline of his cock unmistakable, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight. He always got like this for her—hard, desperate, completely consumed by her. And the best part? She barely had to lift a finger to have him like this.

He wasted no time, shoving his shorts and boxers down in one fluid motion, his cock springing free. Her eyes flew to him immediately, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of him—thick, aching, and dripping with need. She couldn’t help but salivate, her mouth watering at the thought of him filling her, claiming her. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire, her body already begging for him. He grinned, running a hand down his length as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You ready for me, love?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, but there was no mistaking the hunger in his tone. She nodded, her heart racing as he closed the distance between them, ready to make her his once again.

His lips crashed into hers again, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself between her legs. She could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against her, and she whimpered into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Say you want me to put a baby in you.”

Her breath caught, her body trembling with need. “Lando...”

“Say it,” he insisted, his hands sliding up her thighs, his thumbs brushing over her hips. “I need to hear you say it.”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I... I want you to put a baby in me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes darkened, and he kissed her again, deep and possessive, before pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise. “Now let me take care of you.”

He entered her slowly, inch by torturous inch, and she gasped, her body stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot against her skin. “Fuck, you feel incredible,” he muttered, his hips rolling against hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of her head. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, his voice strained.

“I thought that was your job,” she teased, though her voice broke as he thrust into her, hitting that spot that made her see stars.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. “Oh, trust me, love. I’m just getting started.”

Lando’s smirk deepened as he slowed his thrusts, savoring the way her body clenched around him. His hands roamed her curves, one settling on her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her gasp. “You ever think about it, love?” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling, sending shivers down her spine. “My baby growing in you? Tits sore. Belly round. Still letting me fuck you full because you can’t help yourself?” His words were a tease, but there was an underlying possessiveness that made her heart race.

She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body trembled under his. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice breaking halfway through his name, her body betraying just how much his words turned her on.

“That’s it,” he growled, his thrusts growing deeper, more deliberate. “You’ll look so fucking pretty knocked up.” His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers splayed over her abdomen as if he could already feel the roundness he was imagining. “Always wanted to see you carrying my baby, love. You’d be fucking radiant.”

Her breath hitched, her body arching into his as she clung to him, her mind swimming with the images he was painting so vividly. She could almost feel it—the weight of his child growing inside her, the way he’d look at her with that mix of pride and hunger, the way he’d still want her, need her, even then.

“Fuck, Lando…” she whimpered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. “You like that, yeah? The thought of me putting a baby in you?” She nodded, her cheeks flushing as her body clenched around him again, tighter this time, drawing a groan from his lips. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice thick with praise. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re stuffed full of me.”

His thrusts grew faster, harder, and she could feel the way his body was beginning to tighten, his control slipping as he drove them both closer to the edge. Her breasts bounced with each movement, and his hands slid up to cup them, squeezing and teasing as he groaned. “Fuck, look at them. Look how they bounce every time I fill you.”

She whimpered, her body arching into his touch as her nipples hardened under his fingers. “Lando…”

When she whined, he let out a growl and flipped them over with a grunt, settling her on top of him. “Ride me. I need to see ‘em up close when you’re losing it on top of me.”

He was losing control—her moans, the way her tits bounced with every thrust, the way her body clenched around him—it was all too much. With a grunt of restraint, Lando pulled out of her slowly, his cock slick and twitching.

“Get on top,” he rasped, already falling back onto the mattress, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes glued to her flushed, wrecked body. “Come ride me, love. I wanna see every fucking inch of you when you take me.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her legs trembled slightly as she straddled him, gripping his cock in one hand and lining him up. Lando groaned deep in his chest as she sank down on him inch by inch, her walls stretching around him, taking all of him inside.

“Fuck,” he growled, hands gripping her hips as she bottomed out, fully seated on him.

Her heart raced as she adjusted, her hands settling on his chest as she began to move, her hips rolling against his in a rhythm that made him moan. His hands immediately went to her breasts, squeezing and teasing as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking ride me.”

She moaned, her head falling back as she ground down on him, her body trembling with the pleasure of it. His hands roamed her body, one sliding down to grip her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her gasp. “So fucking perfect,” he muttered, his eyes locked on her as she moved.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap.

“You want me to come watching you bounce?” he growled, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her, the bed rocking beneath them. “I’m so fucking close. You want me to come just like this? Watching your perfect tits bounce while I fill you up?”

She whimpered, her body arching into his as she felt the pleasure cresting, threatening to overwhelm her. “Yes… please…”

He groaned, his hands sliding up to her breasts, squeezing and teasing as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “I want your tits in my mouth while you ride me.”

Her breath hitched as she leaned forward, her hands bracing on his chest as she offered herself to him. His lips immediately wrapped around her nipple, sucking and teasing as he thrust up into her, his movements growing sloppier as he lost himself in her. She moaned, her hips rolling against his as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his lips leaving her breast to trail kisses up her chest, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust up into her. “Ride me until I fill you. Don’t stop ‘til I’m spilling inside you, yeah? You want that?”

She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she felt the pleasure cresting, threatening to overwhelm her. “Yes… Lando…”

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough with need as he thrust up into her, his grip on her hips tightening. “Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap. “I want you to… fuck a baby into me…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.

Lando’s thrusts grew erratic, his grip on her hips tightening as he neared the edge. Suddenly, he pulled out, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness. Before she could protest, he flipped her onto all fours, positioning her in front of the mirror beside the bed. He knelt behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he slammed back into her, forcing a moan from her lips.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. She lifted her eyes to the mirror, her cheeks flushing as she saw herself—her hair wild, her lips swollen, her body trembling under his. “Look at how you take me,” he continued, his thrusts deep and deliberate. “Like you were fucking made for it.” His hands moved to her waist, holding her steady as he drove into her harder, faster. “Gonna pump you so full, it’ll be dripping down your thighs.”

Her breath hitched as she watched herself in the mirror, her body arching into his, her eyelids fluttering as he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. He reached up, gripping her chin and forcing her to hold his gaze in the reflection. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Every inch of you. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

When he came, it was deep inside her, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her with a low groan. She felt it, the warmth of him filling her, and she whimpered, her body clenching around him as he held her close, his chest pressing against her back.

He nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing her skin as he whispered, “Still clenching around me, needy little thing… fuck, I love how your body begs for more even after I’ve filled you.” His voice was soft, almost tender, but there was no mistaking the possessiveness in his tone. She could still feel him inside her, still feel the warmth of him spilling into her, and she shuddered, her body trembling with the need for more.

He pressed his lips to her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he murmured, “Shh, I know, baby… you’re still aching. Let me take care of you. Don’t worry, I’m not done filling you up.” His words were a promise, and she whimpered, her body trembling with the need for more as he gently pulled out of her, his cum already beginning to drip down her thighs.

He shifted, kneeling behind her again as he watched his release trickle out of her. “Look at that—leaking already. Gotta fuck it back in, don’t I?” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Can’t waste a drop of me.”

He pressed two fingers against her entrance, pushing them inside her slowly, dragging his cum back into her as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her. She gasped, her body arching into his touch as he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. “You’re so wet, so fucking ruined… and still, you want more,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You want to come with my mess inside you, don’t you?”

She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he worked his fingers inside her, his thumb brushing her clit with every thrust. “Please… Lando…” she whimpered, her body trembling with the need for release.

“Good girls don’t waste what they’re given,” he purred, his voice dark and commanding. “So go on, come for me—make a mess with my cum on my fingers.”

His fingers moved faster, deeper, and she could feel the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap. Her body arched into his touch, her breath hitching as her orgasm crashed over her, waves of pleasure coursing through her as she came on his fingers. He didn’t stop, his fingers continuing to move inside her, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling, her body slick with sweat.

She collapsed onto the bed, her body spent, her heart racing as he pulled his fingers out of her, his cum slick on his skin. He leaned down, pressing his chest against her back as he nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing her skin as he whispered, “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

She whimpered, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and he chuckled darkly, his hand moving to her stomach as he murmured, “Just wait until it’s my baby you’re carrying. You’ll be even more fucking perfect then.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.

He smirked, leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. “Mine,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with need. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

[switchsupremacy]

pretty princess!

content warning! dominant gender neutral reader, sub male character, feminization, use of pet names, cum play if you squint, fingering (m receiving, met n messy style), mirror sex.

imagine your faves xoxo.

“you’re so fucking m-mean.” he sneers, head falling back against your shoulder. you have him on cool, hard-wood floors. positioned in your lap in front of your full-length mirror. his body twitches and trembles in your grasp, suffering through the onslaught of pleasure. your fingers are unforgiving as they stretch out his tight hole. his long-forgotten cock weeps precum against his tummy as you toy with him. his legs are spread and perched up above yours, giving you view and access to his privates. you only hum in response to his wail.

"i just like to toy with you honey, how's that mean?" you question, tone sickly sweet; juxtaposing the way your fingers bully their way into him. shallow pumps of your digits that press against his prostate with every drag. the slip is easy.. too easy. lube drips from his hole onto the wood, way too much was used. it wasn't an issue -- you liked it messy. liked seeing how sloppy your pretty fella could get.

the incessant schlop and squelch of your fingers has you grinning, nearly drunk off arousal. you vocalize your thoughts - "it's so messy," you breathe, groaning out a rumble from the back of your throat. "wet like a fuckin' girl f'me."

"oh my god--" he gasps, hole quivering around your fingers and tightening like a vice. "oh you liked that." you grin against his neck, kissing and softly sucking marks onto the bare skin. you slow down your attack on his prostate, settling for slower, deeper thrusts with your fingers. the squelch somehow sounds messier this way, piercing the air with the noise.

"you like being my messy little girl, don't you baby?"

he huffs at your teasing, glaring at you through the reflection of the mirror. your smile widens and you pick of the pace of your fingers. your other hand comes up to wrap around his throat, not truly choking him, but holding him in place. he keens at the touch "I need an answer, love. i can feel you gettin' close.. there's no way you think i'm gonna let you come and you can't even answer me.." you hum in his ear, the sultry timbre of your voice rumbles through him like a wave.

"i like it." he says finally, gasping out. "i like being your m-messy.. girl." he whispers, the last part a low whine. you're happy with the admission, staring at him through the reflection. "that wasn't so hard, was it, sweet thing?"

you go back to the unforgiving pace you'd began with. the sudden movement makes him whine as his chest heaves. "c'mon honey. i wanna see this messy little cunt cum fa' me."

curses fly from his mouth like prayers. his body falls limp as he melts into you, wracked with little tremors. he can't even warn you that he's close because the snap happens so abruptly. he tenses and his back arches as much as it could in your restricting grasp. his choked moans sound nearly angelic as he falls apart in your hold. he cums so beautifully, making a mess of his stomach and bucking his hips sporadically.

"attagirl honey, jus' like that." you chew your lip, watching his orgasm wrack his body in the reflection of the mirror. he whines, a sound deep from within his chest, and you take it as a sign to pull your fingers out.

you reach up to smear the mess of cum along his stomach, "my messy, pretty girl."

[blank-potato]

my kid's better than your kid

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.” “Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat. “Absolutely not! This is about accountability.” “There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket. “Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—” He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.” You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.” Or You and John's kids are in the same soccer league, and after you get into an argument on the field over your kids, you start seeing him everywhere. It's hate at first sight.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, hair pulling, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, breeding kink, sexual overstimulation, John Walker is a biter, No Superhero AU!, slow burn, enemies to lovers, dead spouse (I killed off his wife oop), John being a good dad, Ava Starr cameo

A/N: I feel like John would be one of those dads who's coaching from the sidelines at their kids' game, so I wrote this. I'm also obsessed with him right now so expect more fics

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Some might call you intense or insane.

A little crazy, definitely.

There’s a fire in you, always has been, and when it comes to your daughter, you didn’t play around. Every aspect of her life was important to you, especially her Saturday morning soccer games.

Though you didn’t know what intense was until you saw that dickhead across the field. Blonde hair, a trimmed beard, built like he probably hits the gym four times a week. His biceps flexed under his white shirt every time he threw his arms up at the ref, which, to be fair, was often.

If he weren’t so obnoxious, you might even find him hot, but you totally don’t find him hot. He was pumped up, red in the face, and just as invested in the game as you were. Pacing like a coach who got fired but still showed up anyway. He was shouting directions, clapping like his kid was about to be scouted, and cheering like it was the World Cup and not just a rec league game on a patchy field behind a middle school.

He was showing you up, so you started cheering louder for your kid. Because if this is a competition, you're damn well not losing it.

“That’s it, Lily! Give ‘em hell!” You shout, your daughter just smiles at you and goes back to playing, used to your competitive nature.

The man takes notice of you and looks at you like he isn’t also acting like a lunatic before cheering even louder. That rubbed you the wrong way. What gave him the right to look at you like you were the problem?

Then it happens.

You watch as your daughter gets slide-tackled for no reason.

And the ref? Doing fuck all about it.

“What was that call, ref?” you shout, already on your feet.

“I—” the ref starts, backing up as you approach. 

You trudge towards him, angry but trying to maintain a look of composed fury, like you weren't two seconds from setting the field on fire. 

The ref was used to your antics, and now every time he saw you storming towards him, he’d be sure that he’d be going home with a headache.

“No yellow or red card? She got slide-tackled,” you bark.

“It’s—”

“She didn’t even have the ball!” you snap, the words ripping out of you like they’ve been waiting. You’re so fired up, so high on rage and love and disbelief, you swear you could take flight.

“It was an accident, so there’s no need for that,” a voice cuts in, calm and condescending in the worst possible way.

You turn, and it’s him, the guy from across the field. The look on his face, the matter-of-fact tone, the casual smugness oozing off him like cologne. You hate him instantly. It was that easy.

“I’m guessing that was your son that ran over my daughter,” you say, each word clipped like you’re trying not to launch them at his face.

“Ran over?” he snorts. “Talk about an exaggeration.”

“It’s soccer, these things happen. You don’t have to throw a tantrum just because your kid's team is down two,” he adds, smirking like he thinks this is witty banter and not a declaration of war.

You scoff, hands on hips, already stepping into his space. The ref backs off like a man realising he’s standing between two charging bulls. This wasn’t a sideline spat; this was two planets colliding, and he wanted no part of the fallout.

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.”

“Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat.

“Absolutely not! This is about accountability.”

“There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—”

He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.”

You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”

“That’s it! Take this off the field,” the ref finally blurts, hands up, voice cracking. “The kids have a match to play!”

You exhale sharply and hard through your nose, fists clenched at your sides. You try to calm yourself down, jaw tight, heart pounding. You sit and look out at your daughter, brushing grass off her knees and already back in position. 

She's tougher than you give her credit, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to put that guy’s head in the ground. 

After the game, her team, the Honeybees, lost after a few missed goals and lots of questionable calls, but your daughter was still laughing with her friends, unfazed in the way only kids can be.

You, however, were still stewing in quiet indignation when you spotted the world’s biggest jackass, in your humble, entirely accurate opinion, making his way toward you.

“Oh. It’s you,” you say, arms crossed automatically.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your loss,” he says, all fake sincerity, like he wasn’t two seconds away from being shoved into a juice box cooler.

“How mature.”

“I try,” he replies with that same maddening, self-satisfied grin.

You narrow your eyes, ready for whatever condescending nonsense he might say next. If he says “good effort”, you’re swinging. Choosing not to let him fuck with you, you tell him what’s what. 

“Your team only won because of the ref’s bad calls,” you say, arms still crossed, tone sharp enough to slice fruit.

“Oh really?” he replies, lifting an eyebrow like he’s genuinely amused. Like this is his idea of foreplay.

“Yeah. My kid was dynamite out there.”

“So was mine,” he says back instantly.

“I mean, sure, but my kid has the most assists on her team,” you say, trying to keep your cool, even as your voice edges higher.

“Assists,” he echoes, nodding slowly. “Not goals.”

You blink at him. “Are we seriously doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says with mock innocence, hands raised like he’s never been petty in his life.

You press your lips together, biting your tongue so hard it might bruise. You didn’t want to, you really didn’t want to, but it slips out anyway.

“My kid can out-pass, out-hustle, and outplay any other kid on that field.”

He grins like he’s been waiting for this.

“Well, my kid can run circles around your kid while tying his cleats.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Alright then, my kid was able to run a full field drill without missing a pass when she was five.”

“Well, mine could do cone drills backwards while coaching his teammate through theirs.”

Your eye twitches at that and he delights in seeing you so bothered.

“Lily has a killer left foot and once scored a hat trick with a stomach bug.”

“And Tommy is a human wall on defence.”

“Oh, please. Lily once did a bicycle kick and landed on her feet. What’s Tommy got?” You say, crossing your arms. 

“Perfect attendance and a clean penalty record.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘clean penalty record’ but you keep it moving.

“Lily brings orange slices for the whole team.”

“Tommy brings strategy diagrams and pep talks.”

You pause, blinking. “Are we… bragging about how nice our kids are now?”

“Seems like it.”

You both go quiet for a beat, then he adds with a smirk, “Still doesn’t mean your kid’s better. I think you should admit to defeat.”

You step forward, just enough to make a point. “I’ll admit defeat when the Honeybees start losing because of their own mistakes, not because your future linebacker throws elbows like he’s in a bar fight.”

He actually laughs, and it’s a little too charming for your liking. Before you can wrestle with what that means, you hear a voice. 

“Dad!” his son calls from across the field, waving dramatically. “Hurry up, you promised we’d get ice cream!”

He glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you with that same smug glint in his eye.

“Again, enjoy your loss,” he says, already turning. “And get used to it. The season’s still young.”

You narrow your eyes. “Until next time, Captain Suburbia.”

He chuckles and starts to walk away, but pauses, turns back with a smirk plastered on his face.

“John,” he says. “My name is John.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

“Uh, what are you doing?” 

“Hiding.”

“From?” Your friend, Ava, says as she looks around for the apparent danger. 

“John.”

Ever since that day, you were livid with the dickhead you knew as John Walker. You had never hated someone so much from just one meeting. You never wanted to see him again, but you did while shopping.

Ava takes a peek, “Oh, the hot soccer dad? Which one is he?”

You never described him as hot but Ava figured from the way you were kidding your mind over him, you thought he was. 

“Blonde, beard, tall and wearing a blue shirt.”

Ava sees him in the fruit and veg aisle and hums in approval, “Is he single? He’s right up your alley, no?”

You nudge her arm. “I don’t know. I mean, I didn't see him with anyone at the game…” You say your voice drifting off before you're back to your senses. “Whether or not he's single is irrelevant! He’s a complete asshole.”

“Just because he's an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not good in bed.”

The death glare you give her is intense and could be considered lethal, but she laughs it off. 

“Let’s be honest, if you weren’t attracted to him, you wouldn’t be so riled up.”

“Oh, please, I’m not into evil blonde men.”

Is he hot? Yes. But his evilness outweighs the hotness. 

“Well, the evil blonde man is coming your way.”

You look towards the end of the aisle to see that Ava was right, so you immediately duck down behind a tower of soup cans. 

“Please come out from over there,” Ava whispers but you protest, hoping you can camouflage yourself and become one with the cans.

Ten seconds pass, and you hear your name in that familiar voice and know you’ve been caught.

“Oh. Hi.”

Your attempt at being nonchalant is honestly pitiful, but not more pitiful than him knowing you were hiding from him.

“Don’t mind me, go back to whatever this is,” He says, gesturing to your hunched-over, goblin-like stance. He reaches over you and grabs a can off the shelf, walking off without another word. 

“See? No need to panic. He was perfectly civil,” Ava chimes in.

“Only because he caught me in a state of weakness. He has the upper hand, and he’s already plotting against me. I can feel it.”

“He’s a soccer dad, not a supervillain,” Ava sighs, helping you off the floor, concerned about the effect he was having on you, but then again, she was always concerned about you. You regularly lose your mind at your daughter’s soccer games so she has just cause. 

“I need to grab the wine, I’ll meet you at the checkout,” Ava says, and you nod, letting her walk off. 

You had to circle back around to get the limited edition coffee you had become obsessed with anyway. You get to the aisle and your eyes widen when you realise that there’s only one left. Your hand flies to grab it, you can already imagine it in your trolley, and it looks good. It looks happy, like it's ready to be at home in your pantry.

But at the same time, another hand wraps around it, the hand belonging to John, because fate was still playing in your face. 

“You.”

You thought you were done with him for the day. Clearly, the universe had other plans.

John raises an eyebrow, not letting go. “Come on. Be a gentleman and give it to me,” You say, trying to force a smile. 

Your grip tightens, so does his.

“I don’t think so,” he says smoothly, as if he weren’t just on the verge of sparking a full-blown aisle standoff. “It’s the last one.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have to go across town for another,” You say, your eyebrows knitting together. 

“Cry about it.”

You tug on it a little, but he doesn’t budge. The item wobbles dangerously between your hands.

“Are you even trying?” he asks. He was so good at being a smug bastard, you wonder if he was born like this or if he honed this craft. You open your mouth to really let him have it, but you don’t even get the chance. 

Without another word, he snatches it clean from your hand in one smooth move, drops it into his trolley like he just won Olympic gold, and starts walking away, whistling.

You stand there, mildly offended but mostly impressed.

“Oh no, you did not just—” you march after him.

“Too slow, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder without turning around. “Better luck next time.”

“I hope it’s expired!” you shout after him.

You stop walking and watch as he struts off with your coffee like he was the King of Aisle Seven, you were planning his downfall in at least three different ways.

And two of them involved shopping carts.

After the grocery store incident, you were looking forward to having a reprieve from John Walker. But it was like fate or something more evil was forcing the two of you together. You have a PTA meeting the next night, and who do you see there but John, who was now becoming a permanent fixture in your life. 

You sigh and sit beside the only empty seat, which was next to him.

“Let’s not even speak,” You suggest you say as soon as your butt hits the seat.

“Fine with me,” John replies as he crosses his arms, looking away from you. 

You sit there tapping your foot. It was almost painful being silent when everyone else was having conversations. Especially when you were next to a thief. You didn’t even get the opportunity to yell at him properly for swiping your coffee.

You finally break, “What you did yesterday was shitty.”

“And I thought we weren’t going to speak.”

“I’ll be sick if I don’t call out injustice when I see it.”

John laughs, and you want to strangle him. “You’re still thinking about that? I’m constantly on your mind, aren’t I?”

You shift in your seat, feeling the heat climbing up the back of your neck. How dare he even suggest that? Yes, you were thinking about him, but only about all the ways you wanted to destroy him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap under your breath.

The meeting starts before he can muster up a comeback. You catch yourself zoning out as the agenda drags on, filled with tedious updates about the bake sale and a desperate plea for chaperones for the 3rd-grade trip to Lake Maribelle.

You swing your leg absentmindedly and accidentally bump his shin. It’s genuinely an accident.

“Did you just kick me?” he whispers.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t taking up half the space with your big—”

“You’re unbelievable—” He interrupts, turning his body to face you.

“Gangly legs, then you wouldn’t have gotten hit,” You whisper your sentence over his.

Your whispered bickering is only interrupted by the teacher at the front calling both your names.

“You’ll help chaperone the trip to Lake Maribelle?”

With all those expectant eyes on you, how could either of you say no?

“Yeah…”

“Of course…”

You both reply sheepishly at the same time.

“Great, I’ll sign the two of you up.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Stepping onto the bus, you watch as Lily disappears to go sit with her friend, leaving you with a slight pang of loneliness. You head to the front and slump into your seat, next to who else but John, because you can’t even be surprised. You really needed to start arriving at places earlier to avoid sitting next to him, but here you were.

It’s a four-hour ride, and you can already feel your exhaustion creeping in. You try to keep yourself alert, but your eyes are heavy. Before you know it, your head tilts to the side, falling onto his shoulder.

John glances down at you, noticing how tired you look. He’s always been perceptive like that. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts slightly to give you more space. But when he feels you drift further, he gently shifts, adjusting his posture. His shoulder feels like a small slice of comfort amidst the exhaustion.

He lets you use his shoulder the whole ride. You looked quite peaceful when you weren’t trying to rip his head off, quite beautiful too. John catches the thought and tosses it out. He couldn’t be caught slipping, you were his mortal enemy after all.

The bus reaches the camp, and suddenly, it jerks to a stop. Your head flies forward, but before you can react, John’s hand shoots out, catching your forehead in the palm of his hand just in time.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a little embarrassed but too tired to really care.

He just hums in response, his fingers lightly grazing your skin for just a second longer than necessary. “Quick reflexes.”

Hoping off the bus, you notice the camp leaders waiting to greet the kids. You stand off to the side ensuring everyone gets off the bus when you notice one of the teachers, Miss. Lucas, sidling up next to John, laughing a little too loudly at something he barely said. Your eyes narrow without even realising it, and your fist subconsciously tightens. It’s like a sudden surge of irritation hits you.

The worst part is that you don’t even know why you're so bothered. You’re pretty sure it's just your general distaste for him as a person, and anything he does seems to irritate you. That felt like the easiest explanation. No need to dig deeper into that nagging feeling in your chest, like someone’s poking it with a stick. You shake it off, willing yourself to focus on something else, anything else.

After you get the kids all settled in for the first activity, though, it hits you like a ton of bricks. The exhaustion. You’re winded in a way you don’t remember being before. You try to shake it off, but it’s clear that you’ve reached your limit for the day. This trip wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, and now, even a simple walk feels like you’ve run a marathon.

You take a deep breath, looking around for a moment to regain your composure. There's no need to make a bigger deal out of it. Just power through, you tell yourself. But it’s harder than you expected, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just the physical exhaustion that's weighing on you.

But at least John was out of sight. You didn’t have to see him on the nature walk or the obstacle course, but you’d have to supervise the canoeing together. You make it out there first, sitting on the dock as the kids are getting in the canoes with the instructors. A smile tugs at your lips as you see how excited Lily is, her face lighting up as she waits for her turn, then spotting you in the crowd. She waves enthusiastically, and you wave back, your heart swelling just a little at the sight of her so happy.

“Nice day out,” John says, looking out at the water. You’re shaken to your core. Not just because you didn’t hear him walk up, but because of what he said. What was this? A normal conversation starter?

You open your mouth to respond, but you're cut off by Miss. Lucas' syrupy voice slicing through the moment like a dull butter knife.

“It really is, and John, you really should wear sunglasses. With how blue your eyes are, the way the sun hits them is just distracting,” she purrs, twirling a lock of her overly straightened hair.

It’s laced with flirtation and just enough condescension to make your skin crawl.

You roll your eyes — hard.

John notices.

“What? You don’t like the sun?” he asks, amused now, that sharp gaze flicking to you like he already knows he’s poking the bear.

“I like the sun,” you answer evenly.

“Then what were you rolling your eyes at, huh?”

You’re so tempted to say exactly what’s on your mind. To call out Miss. Lucas’s thinly veiled thirst trap of a compliment, but you catch yourself. The last thing you need is her holding some petty grudge against Lily over adult nonsense.

So instead, you force a too-sweet smile and say, “None of your business.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained.

Miss. Lucas doesn’t seem to notice any of it. She’s still lingering like a wasp at a picnic.

John tilts his head, a grin still playing at his lips. “Touchy.”

Stepping into your space, he does that thing, that infuriating thing, where he leans in just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to break any rules.

You guys just couldn’t seem to be near each other without someone stepping over the invisible line.

“And you’re observant,” you shoot back, voice low. “Someone might think you’re a little obsessed.”

His brow lifts. “Is that right?”

“You know what? I’m sorry, I'm being rude. Let me ask you this,” you say, your voice sweet and dangerous all at once, “Do you like water?”

“What kind of question is—?”

Splash.

He never finishes.

You shove him clean off the dock, and he crashes into the freezing lake with a satisfying crash. A few heads turn at the sound, followed by laughter, mostly from the kids.

John surfaces, sputtering, slicking his hair back with both hands as he glares up at you like a betrayed golden retriever.

“It’s freezing!” he shouts.

“Oh no,” you gasp dramatically, hand to your chest. “Is it? I had no idea.”

He blinks the water from his eyes, slow and deliberate, before gripping the edge of the dock with both hands and pulling himself up in one smooth, effortless motion.

It’s… a problem.

You might hate the man, scratch that, you definitely hate the man, but God help you, he had the audacity to look good doing literally anything. The sunlight caught the drops of water rolling down his arms, his shirt plastered to the ridges of his abs and the degenerate part of your brain wanting to see them with his shirt off. 

His hair dripped, tousled and messy in a way that looked too perfect to be accidental. It was like watching someone climb out of a cologne commercial.

You bite your lip instinctively, then immediately cover it up with a cough and a scowl.

He strides toward you, soaking wet, every squelching footstep a declaration of petty war. You’re forced to crane your neck to meet his eyes as he stops in front of you.

“You’re lucky,” he says, water still dripping from his sleeves, “that one of us knows how to act like an adult.”

You raise your eyebrows, lips twitching despite yourself. “You sure it’s you?”

He huffs a humourless laugh, then turns and walks down the dock toward the cabins, leaving behind a trail of wet footprints and a hundred silent thoughts you’re too proud to say out loud.

You watch him go and tell yourself it’s because you want to see if there’s the off chance he falls in. 

Definitely not because of the view.

You’re watching your back the rest of the day, fully expecting some form of petty revenge. A frog in your shoe, a cold fish under your pillow, maybe even your toothbrush mysteriously tasting like lake water. But nothing happens.

No pranks. No payback.

You’re in the clear.

Now, sitting by the campfire, the sky a hazy lavender above the treeline, things feel… calm. The kids are running wild around the open field, fireflies blinking to life as marshmallows roast and someone strums a guitar softly in the distance.

“Hi,” a small voice says beside you.

You turn and see Tommy, John’s son, standing there with a hesitant smile.

“Hey, having fun?” you ask, shifting to make room.

He nods and sits next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest. “The nature walk was pretty cool, and me and my friends loved  the obstacle course. And the canoeing was fun too… even though you pushed my dad in the lake.”

You groan lightly, a hand going to your face. “Yeah, about that…”

The guilt hits, a pang of embarrassment. You knew your behaviour was juvenile. Funny, sure, but maybe not your finest moment, especially in front of the kids.

You laugh under your breath and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was pretty funny,” Tommy admits, “And I know you and my dad have problems.”

You feel even more ashamed that it was bleeding into your kids' lives too.

“My dad can be a lot,” he says, kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. “But he’s just… I don’t know. He tries really hard. Especially for me.”

It helped you understand John a little better. The bluster, the sarcasm, the stubborn streak a mile wide… It wasn’t just pride or ego. It was effort. The kind that comes from someone trying to do right, even if it comes out messy. You could appreciate that because you were the same way.

And if he’d raised such a polite kid, then he couldn’t be all bad. Not even close.

“Have you seen him, by the way?” Tommy asks.

“Not lately,” you say, then gesture toward the table behind you. “But you can have some marshmallows while you wait, if you want.”

“Sure!” he says, lighting up as he grabs a stick and starts roasting.

John comes back to see something he wasn't expecting. The bane of his existence, laughing with his son and roasting marshmallows. Tommy didn’t warm up to most people that easily, so when he sees him lighting up with you, his opinion of you shifts. Maybe you weren’t an evil witch. 

You still got a bucket of freezing lake water poured over you the next morning, though. 

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You’re out running errands, finally—blissfully—alone. Lily’s spending the weekend at your parents' place, which meant you had time to catch your breath, clean without stepping on glitter, and maybe finally recover from the whirlwind that was the school trip.

You understood John better. You still thought he was annoyingly smug, sure, but maybe not completely irredeemable.

But you weren’t getting ahead of yourself. He was still the same cocky asshole you met yelling across a soccer field... right?

Just as you’re mulling that over, tongue in cheek, deciding if you’d imagined all the softness, you feel your car begin to slow down.

“What the—?”

You frown, tapping the gas. Nothing. A few panicked beeps. Then a sputter.

You manage to pull off to the side of the road just as the engine completely gives out, your car coasting to a reluctant stop.

“No, no, no!” you shout, slamming your palms against the steering wheel.

This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not when you finally had a few hours of peace and you were this close to getting Thai food and going home to binge terrible reality TV.

With a heavy sigh, you get out and open the bonnet, even though you have no idea what you’re looking for. Wires? Steam? A glowing red light labeled you’re screwed?

You’re standing there, staring blankly into the guts of your car, when you hear it, a car slowing down behind you and parking behind you. 

You barely glance back, already waving them off. “Thanks, I’m good—”

But then you hear a too-familiar voice say, “Well, that doesn’t look promising.”

Of course.

You turn around slowly.

And there he is.

John Walker, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Need a hand?” he asks, already strolling over like he’s been waiting his whole life to rescue you.

“I uh…” You start becasure you’re so tempted to say “I got this” but the moment your eyes look back at whatever the fuck is going on in your car, you sigh.

“Do you have a toolbox?” he’d asked.

“Yeah, it’s in the boot,” you’d said, thinking nothing of it.

Then he came back, popped the hood, and casually peeled his shirt off with a warning: “Don’t read into anything. I just don’t want grease on my shirt.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied, a little too quickly.

You didn’t say anything, but that sure as hell didn’t stop you from watching. Because damn. The man was all broad shoulders, and strong arms that had no business looking that good twisting bolts.

You could’ve watched him work all day.

“Try starting it,” he called, interrupting your horny thoughts.

You slid back into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. It’s a miracle.

“Thank you, seriously.”

He leaned over the hood, smug smile fully loaded. “No problem. That should get you moving, but you definitely need to take this to a garage. I can come with you, if you want.”

Seeing the way your face contorts, he follows up with an explanation before you start berating him again. 

“You’ll need a ride home after, won’t you?”

“Oh, true… I guess I’ll take you up on your offer. I mean as long as I'm not keeping you from Tommy, am I?” You say as you watch him put his shirt back on.

“No, he's at his grandparents’ place.”

“Oh same with Lily,” You admit.

“Guess we have some errands to run together then.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You arrive back home in his car and say “Home sweet home,” because you didn’t know what the fuck you were talking baout. Ever since you watched him fix your car, haggle down the price of your repair with the mechanic and drive you home, you’d been in a bit of a daze. A ‘John Walker is the perfect man’ daze to be exact.

“Do you ... wanna come in?” You say, the words escaping you, but what you didn’t expect was his reply.

“Sure.”

You welcome him in, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as John casually walks around your house. 

It was clean, for once and cosy too, filled with little signs of your life with Lily. Pictures lined the walls: school plays, messy birthday parties, soccer games. Her drawings were stuck to the fridge with mismatched magnets.

“This you?” John asks, voice tinged with amusement.

You turn to see him holding a framed photo from the shelf, a younger you, maybe around Lily’s age, standing proudly in a baseball uniform, cap askew and a dirt-smudged grin on your face.

You roll your eyes but smile. “Yeah. I peaked in Little League.”

He chuckles, eyes still on the photo. “You look like you were about to take someone out at home plate.”

“I probably did.”

He glances over at you, that familiar smirk on his face. “Not much has changed then.”

You snort. “Are you calling me aggressive?”

“I’m saying I’d definitely want you on my team,” he replies, setting the photo down gently. “You were a force to be reckoned with, no doubt,” he says with a chuckle.

“Always.”

“Are there more?” he asks, leaning a little closer with that annoyingly charming glint in his eye.

You cross your arms, sitting back a little as you narrow your eyes. “Nuh uh. We are not going through my baby pictures.”

“Yes, we are.”

And five minutes later, you were both on the couch with a photo album spread across your lap.

“You even look like a soccer ball in this one,” he teases, pointing to a photo of you in a puffy striped onesie.

“I bet you were an ugly baby,” you fire back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’ll have you know I was adorable. Practically a Gerber baby.”

He flips a page and pauses. “Is this you or Lily?”

“That’s Lily,” you say, your smile softening.

“She looks just like you.”

“I like to call her my twin,” you laugh. “And she hates it.”

Time ticks by, and you barely even notice it. The room has dimmed with the setting sun, shadows creeping in, and a warmth building low in your stomach. You’ve been flipping through photo albums for what must’ve been hours, laughing and teasing each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then you hear it, John’s stomach growling, loud and unmistakable. You glance at him, and he’s already giving you a sheepish smile. Clearly, you’re both thinking the same thing.

“I was going to order Thai,” you say casually. “If you wanted to stay for dinner.”

He hesitates for only a second. “I’d like that.”

Later, the two of you are curled up on the couch, takeout containers spread between you, Real Housewives playing in the background. The chaotic drama on screen contrasts with the quiet ease between you.

It had been so long since you’d just relaxed like this with someone—someone who wasn’t Ava or Lily. And it felt good. Easy. Right.

“I have a suggestion, feel free to say no.”

“Hit me,” John says, leaning back against the couch, one arm draped over the cushion behind you.

You bite back a grin. “I have a bottle of whiskey that’s begging to be opened. Wanna throw on some music and help me put it out of its misery?”

He lifts an eyebrow, a slow smile creeping onto his face. “Why not?”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You shouldn’t drink around him. At this point, you were touchy and honestly just saying shit for the sake of saying shit. You’re not too drunk but definitely tipsy enough to say whatever comes to your mind. 

“I haven’t seen Tommy’s mom around. Did you guys split up?” you blurt out, half-curious, half-dreading the answer. You feel a drop in the atmosphere as his hands seem to tighten on the glass. 

“Sorry, you don’t need to answer. That was weird of me to ask…” You're trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh no, it’s okay, she uh,” he says quietly. “She passed a few years ago.”

You pause, your posture softening. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright,” he says, voice low but steady. “Still tough without her, but we manage.”

He glances down, like he’s trying to ground himself before continuing.

“I’d like to say I was a good husband, but I was always away in the army. I could’ve been better before she…” He trails off, eyes now solely focused on the liquid swirling in his glass. 

You stay quiet, wanting to listen rather than rush in. 

“When I came back from my last tour, she was already sick. But for a while, we were okay. We were happy. Then she got worse. It was hard seeing her like that when she was so full of life before I left. I felt like I had missed so much, and when she…” He pauses again, his voice catching in his throat like he was being choked. 

“Tommy’s the only thing that kept me going after. I’m always scared I’ll mess things up with him and miss the important stuff. That I already am.”

He exhales sharply, almost laughing at himself. “Shit. Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” you say gently, shaking your head. “And I can tell you’re a good dad. Anyone can. He's such a sweet kid and he adores you.”

He looks at you then, and for once, there’s no smirk, no one-liner. Just quiet gratitude.

“Thanks,” he says. “That means more than you know.”

You both take another drink, the burn lingering in your throat like something you don’t mind holding onto for a while.

“What about you? I noticed there aren’t any pictures of Lily’s dad around,” he asks, voice softer now, like he’s not just making conversation anymore.

“We got divorced ages ago. He was a total disaster.”

You let out a dry laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “We got married too young, had Lily, got divorced two years in and… I honestly can’t even remember the last time he showed up for her. No birthday messages, no calls. Nothing.”

You pause, trying not to let the anger twist your words.

“It’s a shame because she’s so amazing,” you add, staring into your glass. “And her dad doesn't give her the time of day and never has. She deserves so much better than that, and I wish I could be everything for her, but I…”

John’s quiet, listening. Really listening, giving you the space that you gave him. 

“It’s hard doing it on your own,” you say, looking up at him. “I know you get that.”

He nods slowly, then offers a small, warm smile. “It’s his loss. She’s a kick-ass kid with a pretty kick-ass mom.”

You laugh, the real kind this time.

“I genuinely thought you were about to fight me the day we met,” he says, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You grin. “I was about to fight you.”

“Very hot.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling and, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel exhausting to let someone in.

“Okay, Mr. Tight-White-Shirt,” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks instantly. “Ah, so you were ogling me that day.”

Damn. You walked right into that one.

“A woman can’t appreciate the male form?” you say, all mock innocence.

John laughs, shaking his head as he takes another drink. The music shifts, a different song now, low and smooth, some classic jazz number that’s always sounded like warmth and memory and late nights.

You perk up instantly. “John, we have to dance.”

He blinks. “What?”

“C’mon!”

Before he can argue, you’re already pulling him to his feet drunkenly. He hesitates for half a second, then relents because, of course, he does. His hands find your waist, cautious at first, and you wrap your arms around his neck as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I can’t remember the last time I slow danced,” you murmur against his chest.

“Same,” John says quietly. “In all honesty, it was… probably my wedding.”

 “Damn, me too,” You let out a low laugh. “Did you go all out?”

“We tried,” he nods. “We had lessons and everything. I remember practising in our tiny apartment, knocking over chairs and swearing a ton.”

She grins. “I bet you were shit.”

John, very much in ‘John’ fashion, gasps. “Correction, I was the shit.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna show you. Get ready to be dipped.”

Your eyes widen as you look up at him, suspicion written all over your face. “No way. You’ll drop me.”

He smirks. “I won’t. Trust me. I’m strong and very capable.”

Before you can protest again, he spins you, just fast enough to make your stomach flip. And you squeal, laughing as you come back into his arms.

“See?” he says, proud as hell. “Didn’t hurt a hair on your pretty head.”

You’re still laughing, slightly breathless, heart thudding in your chest for reasons that have very little to do with the dancing.

“I hate to say it,” you murmur, “but that was quite smooth.”

“Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might think you like me.”

You look up at him and realise, you’ve never been this close to him, unless you count getting in his face at a soccer match, but this was different. It was a whole new type of tension. 

“Whatever…” you say, but it comes out with no bite. Not even close.

Maybe because you’re tipsy, but under the dim lighting of your living room, with the jazz still murmuring in the background and that stupid, crooked smile on his face.

You reach up, fingers brushing his cheek before you even fully realise what you're doing.

“I like your beard,” you blurt out, your thumb lightly grazing the line of it.

He blinks, surprised, not because of what you said, but because of how gently you said it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice a little quieter now.

He’s not able to get another word out before you’re kissing him, soft and tender. His hands cup your face as he kisses you like there’s a magnet pulling you to him. Your hands roaming over each other’s bodies, hands desperate to touch skin. He lifts you off the floor, your lips not breaking contact. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands cup your ass as he walks you over to a wall. Pressing you against it and kissing your neck like he’s trying to consume you. “Oh, John…”

Breathing heavily and looking into each other’s eyes.“Upstairs, first door on the right.”

Your back hits the wall again, but gently this time, his lips brushing over yours before pulling back just enough to ask, “You sure?”

You nod, breathless. “Go.”

He carries you like it’s effortless, one hand steady beneath your thigh, the other gripping the bannister as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Reaching the top, he kicks the door open with his foot. The room is dim, the late evening light bleeding through the curtains, but neither of you cares. You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. His mouth is on yours again before it hits the ground.

You fall into the bed together, tangled and wild and urgent, but with something else beneath it all. Something tender. Like every kiss and touch is catching up on lost time you didn’t even know you missed.

“Mind if I leave marks?”

“You can,” You gasp out and he goes to work, biting and sucking your skin. In all honesty, your drunk brain needed a memento, a way to remind sober-you that this wasn’t some sex dream. 

You feel his strong hands wrap around your wrists, and he squeezes them. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his presence. 

“I want you,” John breathes and it sounds so good hearing it. Like you had both finally done away with pretense and given in to what you wanted to do since you met which was rip your clothes off and fuck eachother senseless. 

He starts kissing his way down your body, taking  his sweet time in making you feel good. Reveling in the way you react to him.

When he reaches your panties, he doesn’t hesitate to tug them off his teeth and the sight of him doing that nearly kills you. 

He starts eating you out like a man possessed, his beard tickling your inner thighs. He needs your pussy on his face and he needs it now. As he licks and sucks, driving you insane, your legs start slowly closing, trying to shy away from how good it felt. He catches them, prying them back open. 

“Keep them open for me.”

You nod but he wants more than that.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll keep my legs open for you,” You say and you think you’d do the splits on his face if he wanted. 

“Good girl,” he smirks before going back to ruining you. It had been too long since you felt like this, but even then, you had never felt like this. You were feverish and sensitive, fighting to keep yourself sane. You never recall feeling like you were dying of happiness when anyone else had gone down on you. Must be the John Walker effect.

The more you struggle and shake, the more pressure he applies. His hand rests on your stomach to hold you in place as he sucks on your clit.

Feeling the pleasure growing, you instantly try to muffle your moans with your fist. He moves his mouth away from your aching core and reaches up with one of his hands, moving your fist away. You look at him with reverence and surprise.

“You don’t need to hide…” He says, his other hand still moving inside you, “I want to hear you.”

You don’t speak right away. You just look at him, this man who had once driven you absolutely insane, who now felt like the only person who could see through all the armour.

“I’m not used to being seen,” you finally whisper.

“I know,” John says, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “But I see you.”

He moves back into position between your legs, and you let him have every moan you have. 

“John!” 

You finish, back arching, legs trembling and clenching down on his head with your thighs so hard you’re scared you might kill him. 

But he doesn't stop, instead going faster. “H-hey!” You moan out as you kick your legs around, which he clearly takes as a challenge.

Wrangling your legs and pinning them over your head, your body now in the shape of a backwards C.

“You’re lucky I’m not tying you up,” John comments and you shiver at how good that sounds. 

He gets up on his knees, continuing to lick at your trembling folds as he fingers you even faster, adding a third finger that had you moaning in desperation.

It's like he's set your whole body on fire, the feeling of your lost orgasm threatening to push you straight into another one.

“John, it’s so…” You croak, your eyes focusing and unfocusing. “Think I’m gonna cum again.”

At this point, your voice is hoarse, each touch he’s giving you making you scream and cry out like you’ve never done before. 

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You nod, your eyes gassy with tears, “Wanna be your…your good girl.”

You could feel something coming, as he goes back to sucking on your clit, his fingers massaging your G-spot. 

It only takes a few moments before you're letting your body relax and squirt all over his fingers, the pleasure washing over you in waves. You’re too undone to make a noise, breathing heavily and choking on air. There are a few seconds where you think you’ve died.

He unfolds you, and you lie back down on the bed, needing him instantly. 

“John,” You whine, reaching out for him, and he’s right there, pulling you into his arms and taking care of you.

“What about you?” You ask. He had just about taken you to heaven and believe me you wanted to return the favour.

“Next time.”

Your heart flutters with the thought of a ‘next time’.

“Okay,” You snuggle against him and fall asleep together in pure bliss.  

You wake up in the morning, expecting to feel John’s arms around you. But there's no one there. You sit up and look around, but find nothing. No note explaining where he was and his car's no longer in the driveway.

You came to the conclusion, he woke up, saw you and decided that it was a mistake. It was disappointing but you’re used to being disappointed.

So much for ‘I see you’. 

So much for ‘next time’.

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

The next couple of days are a blur, it’s back to business as usual. Soccer practice, laundry, answering emails with a fake sense of urgency. To anyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed, but not to your daughter.

“I saw Tommy yesterday,” she says casually as she sets her backpack down.

“Oh? How is he?” you ask, trying to sound neutral.

“Great, but his dad didn’t look too happy…”

Your ears perk up at that. He was also miserable? Good. It was his fault anyway… wasn’t it?

“You don’t look happy either.”

You flinch at how blunt she is. You should’ve known, there was no hiding anything from her. She might only be a kid, but she could read you like a book.

“Lily…” you start, but she cuts you off with the maturity of someone far beyond her years.

“Just be adults and talk to him…”

“It's not that simple,” Your voice is shaky with uncertainty. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak if you were face-to-face with him again.

“Well you need to especially since I’m going over to Tommy’s today.”

“You what?” you say, nearly falling out of your chair.

“You said I could,” she adds quickly. “Last week, before… whatever this is.”

Damn it. She was right. You had completely blanked on that. It was before the whole thing with John went bust.

You were conflicted with how you felt about John, but you wouldn’t let your issues affect her. 

“Fine, go get your stuff. We leave in five.”

You drive over to his place, your heart dropping lower and lower as you get closer to his house. Your fingers grip your steering wheel like it’s your lifeline. 

“You’re not coming in to say hi?” Lily asks almost incredulously.

“I think it’s best I don’t. I’ll be here at 6 to pick you up. Have fun!”

Lily doesn’t say anything at first; she just looks at you, brows raised, lips pursed like she’s debating whether or not to push. Was that what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of your judging looks? You didn't like it one bit. 

But in the end, she sighs, unbuckles her seatbelt, and grabs her bag. “You two are so dramatic.”

He sees her first, ruffles her hair, then his gaze shifts past her, locking with yours through the windshield. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough. You look away first.

Then you drive off, trying not to think about him. 

Hours pass, John is very much on your mind the entire time, and before you know it, you’re back at his house to pick up Lily. Walking your way up the driveway, you feel your nerves creeping in. You hesitate a second before ringing the doorbell.

“Hey,” John greets you, opening the door—and he looks just as good as the last time you saw him, maybe even better.

“Hey yourself,” you reply awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

There's the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs, and then Tommy appears, greeting you with a wide grin.

“It’s time to go already?” Lily calls from behind him, voice dripping with faux innocence. She was laying it on thick.

Before you can answer, Tommy jumps in. “Can you and Lily stay for dinner?”

“I don’t know…” You start, unsure how to say no politely.

“Dad, convince her. We’re having your famous spagbol,” Tommy adds, eyes hopeful.

You catch the look on his face—so earnest, so excited—and then turn to John. An easy smile creeps onto your face despite yourself. 

“Famous, huh?”

John smirks. “It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

By the time dinner is ready, it feels easy with him, dangerously easy. You sit around the table with him and the kids, laughing between bites of spaghetti, the kind of domestic quiet that used to feel foreign now curling around you like a blanket. It felt so right. But still, there’s that persistent whisper in the back of your mind — If he wanted this, really wanted this, he would’ve stayed that night.

Before you can spiral too deep into your own thoughts, Tommy pipes up brightly, “Can Lily and I have a sleepover?”

You glance at John, caught off guard. “Lily and I should really get going, plus Lily doesn’t have anything to change into.”

“I brought clothes and my toothbrush,” Lily says far too quickly.

You narrow your eyes. “And why did you do that if you were just supposed to stay for the afternoon?”

Lily and Tommy exchange a look — a guilty, sheepish look that screams we planned this.

John chuckles under his breath, clearly catching on. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, glancing at you. “I could set up a spot for Lily in Tommy’s room.”

“You should stay too!” Tommy adds enthusiastically, eyes shining with innocent matchmaking energy.

“I don’t have any pyjamas to sleep in, Tom,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“You can borrow my dad’s!” he says like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

You blink. These kids were really committing to the bit.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” You begin, your voice a little quieter, your gaze flicking to John.

“You wouldn’t be,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I have a guest room. It’s yours if you want it.”

His voice is calm, but there’s something soft in it. An invitation. Like he wanted you to stay. 

“It’s decided then,” Your daughter interjects before you can try to squirm out of it.

You had been tricked by two 9-year-olds; this was a new low. 

The hours drifted by as you sat in the living room, all watching a movie together.

Your eyes were fixed on the screen, but all you could think about was John. The fact that sitting just a few feet away, but still felt so far away. 

Though if you had turned your head to look at him, you would’ve seen him looking back at you. His gaze would tell you everything you wanted to hear, but alas, that isn’t fate’s plan. 

The movie ends, and the kids groan when John tells them it’s time for bed. It’s a whirlwind, as they rush around tuckering themselves out. Entering Tommy’s room, you go over to Lily, who’s already in bed, ready for you to tuck her in. You pull the blanket up to Lily’s chin, smoothing her hair like you do most nights, your voice soft in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“Remember, be an adult,” Lily says, reminding you not to be a coward, essentially. 

“Goodnight, Lil,” You reply before kissing her forehead. Maybe, just maybe, you’d consider her words. 

“Goodnight, Mom,” she murmurs, already half-dreaming.

You stand slowly, and as you turn to leave, you notice Tommy looking at you. His eyes are peeking out from under his blanket, lids heavy but alert.

You pause. “Do you want me to tuck you in, too?”

He hesitates, then gives the smallest nod, like he’s not quite sure he should, but wants to anyway.

You gently and carefully tuck him into his covers like you had with Lily. “There,” you whisper. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing one eye. “Thanks, Mom.”

You’re shocked hearing him call you ‘Mom’. You glance down at him, already drifting off, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, completely unaware of the weight his words carried.

You swallow and manage a quiet, “Goodnight,” brushing his hair back gently before slipping out of the room. What you don’t know is that on the other side of the hallway, just out of sight, John is standing perfectly still.

He’d heard it too.

He didn’t know how to respond to it either, wasn’t sure what it meant or what came next, but for now, he was just… happy. Happy that his son felt safe with you. 

Later that night, you lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, your thoughts louder than the quiet hum of the house. The shadows shift with the streetlight outside, but your mind stays frozen. You were wearing his shirt, and he was on your mind. It smelled like him, and you could imagine his arms around you. You bury your face in it, wishing that he was with you and not in a room down the hallway. 

You needed to confront what happened that night. You hadn’t talked about it since. It lingered like static between you, unspoken but never forgotten. And you couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter, not when it meant everything. 

You needed to know if he wanted you when you’re both sober.

So, gathering every ounce of courage, you throw off the blanket, slide quietly out of bed, and make your way down the hall to his room. The floor feels colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just your nerves.

You stop in front of his door.

Raise your fist.

And then… freeze.

You stand there for what feels like forever, five minutes, at least, your knuckles hovering midair. Your heart pounds loud enough to fill the silence, your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if that night was just a mistake?

Suddenly, the door swings open, and it startles the living hell out of you — your fist, already midair, connects squarely with his face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper-shout, eyes wide as John stumbles back, one hand instantly flying to his nose.

“Shit,” he groans, squinting in pain and trying to blink away the surprise. “You can throw quite a punch.”

“Oh my god, John. Holy fuck. I am so, so sorry,” you ramble, panic surging through you as you hover uselessly in front of him. “Let me get ice, I’ll fix it… just, don’t die.”

You spin around and scuttle off toward the kitchen, trying to keep your footsteps light even though your heart’s thudding like a drum solo. The freezer is a disaster. No ice trays. Who doesn’t have ice trays?

You spot something. Grab it.

Moments later, you return with a sheepish expression and a frozen bag clutched in your hand.

“I couldn’t find an ice tray,” you mutter, pressing the bag gently to his face, “so I got peas.”

You sit down with him on the bed, holding the bag of peas to his nose. “That won’t bruise or anything, right?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Worried about my handsome face, are you?” John jokes, and you’re just glad he has a sense of humour about it. 

You groan and drop your forehead onto his shoulder, mortified. “This was not how I pictured this going.”

His hand gently touches the small of your back. “You were coming to talk to me, right? About… us?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. Before I assaulted you.”

“Let’s start there,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes with a crooked smile. “Because I was kinda hoping we’d finally talk about it too.”

“Really? It didn’t feel like that since you ran,” you say, voice low. You were trying not to sound hurt, but you were. He weighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and moves his bag of peas off his face to look at you.

“You’re right to be mad. I just… I panicked when I woke up next to you.”

“You were regretful,” you say, attempting to finish his sentence. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts like he’s about to protest.

“No, no—that’s not it at all. I was scared. That if you saw me when you woke up, you’d think it was a mistake.”

He takes a breath, shuffling closer. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re such a pain in the ass, always calling me out and keeping me on my toes. But also kind, and funny, and you make me feel so… alive.”

His hand lifts gently, your cheek resting against his palm. It feels perfect, like this is what fate had in store all along.

“I'm an idiot for running but I do like you. I’m falling for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, heart racing. “I’m falling for you, too, John Walker.”

Pulling him in, your hands still cold and wet from holding the bag of peas, but he doesn’t care. You kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you upright—like if you stop, everything might collapse around you. 

The two of you pull your clothes off each other's bodies but there's no rush. Each layer that comes off brings you that much closer together.

Now completely naked you sit in front of him and you can see why he has all that confidence. His fingers tangle in your hair and he's about to kiss you when you stop him.

“Will they hear?”

“There's a couple rooms between us, they won't hear as long as you're not too loud.”

“We both know that's going to be a challenge,”You say, recalling the way you were hollering when he ate you out. Your surprised that none of your neighbours issued a noise complaint.

“You need to try or I'll have to find something to gag you with,” John suggests, his voice low and sultry.

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

He pressures you back into the bed and bites your neck hard enough to leave a big mark.

“You better hope no one asks about that.”

“Let them ask, you can explain to them exactly what I did to you.”

The marks don't stop there. By the time he's done you look like you've been attacked by a wild animal. Hickeys and love bites littered all over your skin, each one a testament of John's desire for you.

“Need you inside me,” You pant out already guiding him towards you with your legs. 

He looks down at you with hooded eyes the anticipation eating you alive before he wraps his arms around you and crarryignyou off the bed.

“Where are we—?” You start but don't finish as you notice he's plopped you down right in front of a mirror.

It's the perfect solution for when someone wants to fuck you from behind and see you fall apart of their cock. Thank everything for whoever invented mirrors.

He lightly kicks your feet apart, hands gliding up your body before resting on your boobs.

You getting back against him, trying to feel him and needing him to fuck the daylights out of you. It had been long enough and you were tired of waiting. 

“Impatient, aren't you?”

“I just need you. Don't make me suffer,” You pout, the mirror capturing the needy look in your eyes. 

“Well, who am I to say no to you?” He says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

Anticipating the screen you were about to let out, he covers your mouth with his hand.  Only the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing in the room. 

“Look at yourself, look at how quickly you feel apart for me,” John whispers against your ear. And he was right. You were a complete mess after only a few thrusts, eyes watery as your neck arches into him.

“So good,” You manage to get out without screaming. He grabs you by the hair, exposing your neck too him as he gives you a few more hickeys for good measure. Rocking your hips into you as he paints your neck with his lips.

Suddenly, your hips are being lifted into the air as he wraps his arms around you as if getting ready to suplex you. The way he starts fucking you is just as disorientating as a suplex would be. He's hitting your sensitive spot dead on turning your legs to jelly as they dangle in the air.

He's manhandling like you're a doll and you love it, especially when you can see it all happening in the mirror. The way his veins on his arms were popping with effort as he milks his cock with your pussy like you're a fleshlight.

“That's it, breed me, John.”

Hearing you say that only made him double his efforts.

“Is that what you want? Want me to get you pregnant?” John says, his fingers gripping your hips, clearly excited at the prospect. You nod desperately like you need to have it or you'll die.

You gasp, whimper, cry and reaching out for anything to keep you quiet.

“N-need you to fill me up,” You stutter out, “Need your cum in me.”

Then you're given a brief break when he pulls you back from the mirror, tossing you back into the bed. But two seconds don't even pass before he's feeding his cock back into your needy hole.

“J-john!”

You squeal a little too loudly and never you know it his hand is on your chin guiding your own panties in your mouth. 

“Such a pretty sight,” John says as he cages you, fingers intertwining as he pins you against the bed.

 You know you won't be able to keep going much longer. Wrecked doesn't even begin to describe what you were and your orgasm was about to knock you into a whole new dimension.

Feeling his cock twitch, you lock your legs around his waist and he finishes deep inside of you which triggers your own orgasm. His hot cum fills you up, painting your fluttering walls as he effectively breeds you.

The both of you lay there catching your breath as your orgasms pulse through you. This was what life was about; having sex with hot single dads. 

You come back to your senses, just barely and have an evil idea.

Seeing the opportunity fate had presented you for payback, you flip your positions climbing on top of him and riding him into overstimulation. A strangled cry that was supposed to be your name falling from his lips. 

“Baby…” John whimpers as his body tenses up, abs contracting lines he's already about to cum again.

You could get used to having him at your mercy, bottom lip trembling as he tries to keep it together. 

“I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me and only me.” You pulling him to your lips by his hair. He groans but he's into it, he'd let you have your way with him just as much as you let him have his way with you.

“Only you,” He replies and you believe it. 

Your hand away from his hair, letting John's head hit the mattress, before going in and leaving your own string of love bites. He bites his lip, all but writhing under your soft touch. 

“Someone might see those.”

“Then you can explain to them what I did,” You say throwing his words back in his face.

You keep fucking until you tire yourselves out, your bodies sticky and heaving. It was as good as you imagined it would be and you're kicking yourself for not giving in earlier.

John's hand rests on your thigh tracing little patterns as you play with his hair when he asks a very pertinent question.

“Are you on birth control?”

Your eyes widen when you realise you are in fact not on birth control. With the downright sad lack of sex you were having before John walked into your life there was no reason to be on it.

“No”, You gulp,“We'll talk about it in the morning?”

John hums in agreement and holds you against his chest in a vice grip that screams “You're mine.”

In the morning, you’re happy to feel John’s arms still wrapped around you, his face pressed against your shoulder, his breath slow and even. Peaceful.

“Who wants pancakes?” you call out, later in the kitchen, sliding a golden stack onto the table with a grin.

You have a slow, sweet morning breakfast—the kind where everyone’s still in pyjamas, laughing over spilt flour and slightly burnt edges.

“Oh! Let me go get the syrup. Can you show me where it is, Tommy?” you ask.

Tommy nods enthusiastically, hopping up and heading toward the pantry with you, eager to help you find it.

Back at the table, Lily narrows her eyes at John, clearly sizing him up. Then, dead serious, she delivers:

“If you hurt my mom, you die. Understood?”

John blinks, caught off guard for a second, but then a slow smile tugs at his lips. He knew exactly where she got that intensity from.

“Understood.”

“Good,” Lily says, her expression finally softening. “You make great spagbol so I'd hate to have to kill you.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

It’s been a few months since you and John started dating — the kind of comfortable, lived-in months where you had keys to each other's places, regularly took the kids out together, and fell asleep on the couch on each other. 

Unlocking the door, John and Tommy step inside, and they’re immediately hit with the scent of burnt toast, a low hum of music, and the unmistakable energy of mild chaos. They were here to pick you and Lily up to carpool to the Saturday morning game, but it looked like they’d walked into a warzone, and at least it smelled like pancakes.

“Morning!” Tommy calls out as he looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Oh hi, guys,” you pant out from somewhere in the kitchen, out of breath and flustered. He doesn’t need to be able to see you to know you’re going through it.

Lily’s sitting at the dining room table, calmly sipping orange juice like she’s been through this before. Tommy runs over and sits beside Lily, swiping a pancake off her plate.

“Mom’s having a meltdown,” she says, totally unbothered. “It’s pretty intense. She yelled at the coffee machine.”

John raises an eyebrow and walks to the kitchen, and there you are, wearing one sock and a hoodie that you actually stole from John, batter on your cheek, surrounded by open containers and the remnants of pancake making.

“It’s so good to see you,” You cry as you practically jump into his arms. You let go of him so you can continue your spiral when he stops you. 

“Honey, you’re running around like a headless chicken. Let me help,” John offers.

You hesitate, then sigh and reach into the mess on the counter and pull out a hairbrush. “Can you finish braiding Lil’s hair for me? She’s lost her lucky cleats, and I need to find them before we leave.”

“On it.”

He kisses your forehead, warm and steady, before heading into the kitchen.

Lily watches him approach with guarded suspicion. “Please don’t mess this up.”

John grins. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.”

He ruffles her hair on purpose, just to rile her up, and she bats his hand away with a huff and a laugh. 

Meanwhile, you’re darting around the house in full-on panic mom mode — lifting couch cushions, checking under the bed, even inside the fridge for some reason (you never know), until finally, you spot the missing shoes. Inside her toy chest, naturally, buried under a plastic tiara and two mismatched Barbie legs.

You walk back into the dining room to the sound of laughter, Tommy’s head thrown back as John tells some ridiculous story, funny voices and all. Lily’s giggling along too as he finishes tying off the braid with surprising skill.

You lean against the doorframe, heart swelling. It’s loud, it’s messy, but it’s yours. And in that moment, it hits you: this is what happy looks like.

“Found it,” you say, holding the shoes up triumphantly.

John looks up, grinning. “See? I told you everything would come together.”

You smile at him. This is perfect; he’s perfect.

“Are we ready to go?” you call out, grabbing your bag and keys.

They respond in a chorus of “Yeah!” and “Almost!” as shoes squeak across the floor.

Clambering into the car like a small tornado, Tommy buckles in and grins over at Lily. “Losing team’s parent buys ice cream,” he declares.

“Ohhh, bold move,” you say, raising your eyebrows in the rearview mirror.

“Looks like you’re buying ice cream,” John says smugly, sliding into the driver's seat, glancing at you like he already knows today’s outcome.

“In your dreams,” you shoot back, smirking as you start the engine.

This was the kind of happiness that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention—and all it took was yelling at a hot dad at a soccer game.

Masterlist

[reveriebae]

Rhythm and Ruin

pairing(s) : Choi Jongho x choreographer! reader

word count : 3815

summary : When teasing Jongho during late-night dance practice turns into a battle of control, you find yourself pinned, wrecked, and ruined by the quietest member of the group—who turns out to be anything but gentle behind closed doors. Cocky mouths get fucked, bratty attitudes get corrected, and you? You get stuffed full, overstimulated, and made to remember exactly who he is.

genre : smut

warning(s) : explicit sexual content, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, cockwarming, possessive behavior, dominance/brat dynamics, mirror play, semi-public setting (dance practice room), slight degradation. Let me know if I missed anything!

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

You were never easy on him.

“Again,” you snapped, arms crossed as Jongho’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Sweat dripped from his temple, soaking through the thin black tank top clinging to his chest. “Your pop on eight is half a beat late. Fix it.”

He gave you a sharp glance through those dark lashes, jaw tight, chest heaving—but said nothing. Just nodded once, jaw flexing, and moved back to formation. Ever the obedient trainee. Ever the silent one.

You watched the set again from the speaker’s edge, eyes fixed on him. Precision in every move, powerful lines, and that body—taut, coiled, restrained. Jongho was never the flashiest, but he commanded attention. And you knew exactly how far to push him to bring it out.

“Better,” you murmured when the music stopped. “But not good enough.”

He rolled his neck, muscles rippling beneath sweat-slick skin. “Want me to bleed for it next time?”

Your brow arched. “If that’s what it takes.”

There it was—the flicker in his eyes. The tension that had been building all week. No, longer. Every time you corrected him. Every time you adjusted his hips or pressed his shoulders just so. Every time you praised the others louder than him. He soaked it all in like a sponge—and you knew, eventually, he’d snap.

Good.

That’s what you wanted.

You circled behind him slowly, your footsteps deliberate against the wooden floor. The air in the practice room was thick—humid with heat, layered with tension. The rest of the team had gone home hours ago. Just the two of you now.

“Reset from the chorus,” you said coolly, voice dipping low. “And this time… don’t hold back.”

You knew exactly what you were doing.

He moved into position, jaw tight, eyes flicking to the mirror to find your reflection. You didn’t smile. You just watched. Waited. Measured his restraint like a weapon.

The beat kicked in.

He danced like a storm—every move sharp and deliberate, muscle memory and frustration guiding him. There was something aggressive about the way he hit every count now. Not just following choreography. Challenging you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the shiver that crawled down your spine.

The track ended. Silence bloomed.

Jongho turned toward you slowly, chest heaving, lips parted.

“Well?” he asked, voice rough, just a little deeper than usual.

You tilted your head. “Still a fraction behind the beat at the end.”

The sound he made was soft. Almost a laugh. Almost.

And then—he stepped toward you.

Your breath caught.

“You’ve been riding me hard all week,” he murmured, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand. “Is that what you want? Me losing control? So you can say I broke?”

You stood your ground. “I want you to listen. To follow direction.”

He was in front of you now. Close. Too close.

“I’ve been listening,” he growled, voice dropping, heat pouring off him. “But maybe it’s time you learn to stop pushing.”

He stared at you like he was waiting for permission.

“You gonna do something, Jongho?” you murmured, chin tilted up, voice calm despite the thrum of your pulse. “Or are you just gonna stand there and breathe heavy until I dismiss you?”

His nostrils flared.

You smiled, slow and sharp.

“I know that look,” you said, voice like velvet laced with taunt. “You think you’re intimidating me? Please. I’ve handled bigger attitudes than yours.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough that his breath hit your lips. “That so?”

You nodded, cocky and cool, hands sliding up your own hips lazily. “Mm. You’re good—but you’re not irreplaceable. So unless you want to stop wasting my time, you better get your shit together and—”

His hand hit the mirror beside your head, hard enough to make the glass tremble. You didn’t flinch.

But oh… he didn’t move away either.

His eyes dropped to your mouth. His jaw ticked. That deep, low inhale came from somewhere in his chest.

“I’ve been letting you talk,” he said through clenched teeth. “Because I respect you.”

You licked your lips slowly, dragging it out, knowing he was watching every second.

“But if you think I’m just some rookie you can boss around without consequence…” he whispered, his voice dropping until it was barely audible, dangerous, “…you’re out of your damn mind.”

You tilted your head, smug.

“Oh, Jongho,” you said sweetly. “Is that a threat?”

Silence.

Then—

“No,” he said, voice thick. “It’s a fucking promise.”

And just like that, the dam cracked.

He reached for you—not gentle, not soft—hands gripping your thighs and lifting you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing. Your back slammed into the mirror again, legs spread around his waist as your breath hitched in surprise.

His mouth hovered over yours, lips barely brushing. “You’ve been begging for this,” he growled. “Every correction. Every insult. Every time you touched me like I wouldn’t notice.”

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails pressing against muscle.

And when you smirked again, cocky and challenging—

He snapped.

His mouth crashed into yours—hot, demanding, messy. Nothing soft, nothing sweet. Just pure frustration and weeks of tension unleashed. You moaned into him, hands fisting into his shirt, but he didn’t let you take control.

No, Jongho took.

His tongue pushed past your lips, teeth nipping at the corner of your mouth like he wanted to mark you. He pressed his body into yours, hard chest against your torso, caging you to the mirror while your legs locked around his waist.

When he pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips—and he smirked. Finally, that cocky look was on his face.

“You like being thrown around, huh?” he murmured, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slipping beneath your top, palm dragging slowly up your stomach. “So fuckin’ smug all the time. All that attitude.”

His thumb flicked your nipple, watching the way your body jolted.

“But look at you now.”

His hand moved down again, cupping between your thighs—pressing hard over the damp heat already soaking your shorts. His breath hitched when he felt it.

“You’re already wet?” he muttered, eyes dark with disbelief and something deeper. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were getting off on bossing me around.”

You tried to say something—tried to fire back—but all that came out was a gasp as he ground his palm into you, slow and punishing.

“Where’d that mouth go?” he asked low, voice rough as gravel. “All that shit you were talking. C’mon. Be a good coach and give me some notes.”

He dipped his head, lips dragging along your neck, tongue hot and slow as it traced up to your jaw. His teeth scraped skin, not hard enough to bite—but just enough to warn.

You whined, finally cracking.

That only made him grin wider.

“Thought so.”

He dropped you just enough to spin you around, pressing your chest to the mirror. Your breath fogged the glass, your nipples pebbled against the cool surface.

“Don’t move,” he growled behind you, tugging your shorts down inch by inch. His fingers dragged along your thighs, rough calluses scraping skin, before he grabbed your ass—spreading it, squeezing, groaning under his breath. “You’ve had this pretty little thing in front of me every day, thinking I wouldn’t touch?”

You braced your hands against the mirror, heart slamming in your chest.

“You wanted this. Wanted me like this.”

His fingers slipped between your legs, finally touching bare skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re soaked. Dripping down your thighs.”

He rubbed slow circles, teasing, torturing. Never quite giving you what you needed. You pressed your hips back, but he stilled you with one arm around your waist.

“Not yet,” he breathed, lips brushing your ear. “I’m gonna take my time.”

Then—two fingers, thick and slow, pushed inside. The stretch was perfect, maddening, enough to make you cry out and bite your own lip against the sound.

He groaned behind you, low and raw. “That’s it,” he whispered, curling them just right. “Take it. Take all of it.”

“Jongho—fuck—please,” you gasped, forehead pressed against the mirror, voice broken and needy.

He laughed.

Not soft, not cruel—just dark amusement, the kind that laced his voice like honeyed poison.

“Aww,” he drawled, curling his fingers deeper inside you, slow and firm. “Now you know how to say please?”

You bucked your hips in response, desperate for more. But he didn’t move faster.

He didn’t need to.

“That the same mouth that told me I was replaceable?” he teased, pumping his fingers with deliberate control, eyes locked on your reflection. “Doesn’t sound so tough now, sweetheart.”

Your moans got louder as he hit that spot inside you again and again, slick sounds filling the room with every drag of his fingers.

“Listen to you,” he muttered, lips close to your ear. “You’re soaking my fucking hand, whining like a little slut. Bet the whole damn building could hear you if I let you scream.”

You turned your head to glare at him, eyes glassy and burning—but he loved that look. That mix of frustration and arousal, of wanting to fight but needing to cum so bad it hurt.

And he couldn’t help it—he kissed you again, filthy and deep, tongue tangling with yours as his fingers sped up, thumb circling your clit with ruthless rhythm.

You cried out into his mouth, and that broke something in him.

He pulled back just to watch you fall apart, lips swollen, chest heaving, legs trembling around his wrist.

“You’re gonna cum just like this?” he asked, mock surprise dripping from every word. “Not even my cock yet. You’re that fucking needy?”

You nodded, frantic, whining his name in pieces. “Please—please, let me—”

He chuckled low. “Oh, now you ask nice. Go ahead, then.”

His fingers fucked you harder, meaner, curling right into that sweet, unbearable spot. His other hand held your throat now—lightly, just pressure—keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Cum for me,” he whispered in your ear. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so deep, you forget how to boss anyone around.”

And you shattered.

Your moan was wild, guttural—head falling back, walls clenching around his fingers as heat bloomed through your whole body. You slumped, boneless, breath fogging the glass in front of you.

Jongho withdrew his fingers with a wet sound, admiring the slick coating them. “Look at this mess,” he muttered, licking one finger slowly while holding your gaze in the mirror. “And we’re just getting started.”

He stepped back just long enough to shove his sweats down, cock hard and heavy, flushed dark with need.

“You ready?” he asked, cocky but hungry now.

You nodded desperately.

He lined himself up, dragging the tip through your folds, teasing your oversensitive clit just to hear you gasp again.

“Oh no,” he said, leaning down to whisper with a wicked grin, “use that smart mouth, baby. Tell me you want it.”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

So Jongho slapped the head of his cock against your soaked folds—once, twice, hard enough to make you jolt.

“Use. Your. Fucking. Words,” he snarled, the usual softness in his tone completely gone now. “Beg for it, like the needy little thing you’ve been pretending not to be.”

You were panting, wrecked already, forehead still pressed to the mirror, lips parted and wet from his kiss. “Jongho… fuck me. Please. I need your cock—need it so bad.”

He hissed through his teeth, lining himself up and pushing in slow.

Thick. Hot. Fucking perfect.

You choked on your own moan as he split you open, inch by inch. No mercy. No rush. Just the heavy stretch of him filling you until your legs shook and your hands clawed at the mirror for something—anything—to hold on to.

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips rolling until he bottomed out. “Tight little cunt’s fuckin’ starving for cock, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah—fuck—you feel so—so big—”

He pulled out halfway and slammed back in, sharp and brutal, forcing a scream out of you.

“That too much?” he mocked, hips snapping into you, pace unrelenting. “But you were all mouth earlier. Thought you could take it?”

Your answer was a sob and a garbled whimper of his name.

He leaned over you again, teeth grazing your ear. “I’m gonna fuck that brat out of you, baby. Gonna make you cum on this cock until you forget how to talk back.”

His grip on your waist was bruising now, dragging you back onto every thrust like you were just a fucktoy built for this—meant to be used, meant to be ruined. His other hand snaked up your shirt, grabbing one of your tits, pinching your nipple so hard it made you jolt and clench around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice all ragged heat. “This pussy’s choking me. Look at yourself, baby.”

You blinked at your reflection.

You were a mess—sweaty, flushed, hair ruined, mouth open in a permanent moan. Eyes glassy. Lips kiss-bruised. And your ass bouncing against his hips as he fucked you like he wanted to break you in half.

“God, you love this, don’t you?” he growled, slamming into you with a sharp thrust that made your knees buckle. “Fucked dumb on my cock, dripping all over me. Bet you wish I’d done this weeks ago.”

Your voice was high and fucked-out now. “More—please, Jongho, don’t stop—”

“Oh, you’re not getting me to stop,” he growled, one hand tangling in your hair to yank your head back, forcing your mouth open in a gasp. “You’re not done ‘til I say you’re done.”

He pulled out, and you whimpered in protest—only for him to flip you around, lift your leg over his shoulder, and thrust back into you with zero warning. You screamed his name this time, body jerking from the sheer force of it.

“Yeah,” he hissed. “That’s it. Scream for me. Let everyone fucking hear who’s wrecking you.”

He was so deep now it felt like he was in your throat, his hips grinding just right, balls slapping against you wetly with every thrust. Your nails dug into his arms, into his back, your moans hitting a higher pitch as the coil in your belly started to snap tight again.

“Shit—Jongho—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“You better,” he growled, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his neck. “You better fucking cream on my cock like you were made for it.”

He moved faster—meaner—grinding into that sweet spot with every thrust, fingers tight on your hip, until—

You exploded.

Your scream was guttural, back arching, whole body locking up as your pussy fluttered around his cock, squeezing him so tight he cursed and slammed in even harder.

“That’s it. Take it. Fuck, you’re so good for me when you’re like this,” he hissed, voice ragged. “Gonna fill you up, baby. You want that? Want my cum leaking outta you while you limp out of here?”

You nodded frantically, barely coherent, whining, “Please, cum in me—want it—need it—fuck, fill me up—”

That broke him.

With a strangled groan, Jongho buried himself deep, spilling inside you in hot, thick pulses that made your whole body tremble again. His teeth sank into your shoulder, muffling a groan as he emptied every drop into you, twitching with each breath.

He reached for your discarded shirt and wiped between your thighs carefully, almost reverently—though he paused to watch the way your pussy fluttered around nothing, his cum starting to drip out of you, sticky and glistening.

Fuck. His cock twitched.

Still… he took a breath, kissing your shoulder. “You did so good, baby.”

You whined at the praise, eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you into his arms, settling you gently on the hardwood floor of the dance practice room, where the only light came from the flickering ceiling panels and your fogged-up reflections on the mirrored wall.

Your head fell against his chest, breathing shallow, skin flushed and tacky from sweat. He cradled you for a moment, fingers dragging slow circles over your lower back, tracing invisible patterns while your muscles still twitched from aftershocks.

But then you felt it—pressing hot and heavy against your thigh.

“Again?” you asked, voice small and rough.

He didn’t answer right away. Just dragged his fingers up your spine, then tilted your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were darker now—hooded, molten, possessive.

“Thought you were cocky,” he murmured. “Thought you could handle me.”

You blinked, heartbeat spiking.

His cock was hard again, throbbing against your leg. You hadn’t even processed your second orgasm and he was already teasing your entrance with the leaking tip, guiding it back to your still-sensitive folds.

“You gonna run your mouth again,” he asked, “or just moan like a good little slut this time?”

You bit his lip in answer.

And he fucking snapped.

Jongho flipped you over onto your stomach in one motion, dragging your hips up until you were on your knees, face pressed to the cool mirror wall, tits barely brushing the surface.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he growled, rubbing his cock between your folds again, smearing more of his cum and spit all over your slick pussy. “Fine. You get fucked like one.”

He shoved in without warning.

No teasing this time. Just a raw, deep thrust that punched the air out of your lungs, the stretch somehow more intense than before—like your walls had molded to him and were still trying to recover.

You let out a choked cry, face pressed to the glass, cheek streaking sweat against it.

Jongho leaned forward, chest flush to your back, lips right against your ear. “Look at you,” he murmured, taunting, thrusting slow but deep. “You thought you could tease me, play with me like I wouldn’t bite back.”

Another thrust. Harder.

“You forget who you're dealing with, baby?”

You tried to speak—tried to sass back—but your voice cracked on a moan as he fucked you deeper, angle perfect, cock dragging along your oversensitive walls with a rhythm that had you sobbing into the mirror.

“I said look,” he hissed.

He gripped your jaw, forcing your head up until you locked eyes with your reflection.

You looked ruined.

Mascara smudged. Lips red and spit-slick. Hair wild. Tits bouncing with every thrust. Your mouth fell open again in a helpless moan as Jongho slammed into you harder, hips snapping against the backs of your thighs.

“That’s what you look like,” he said low, “when I’m fucking the attitude out of you.”

You clenched around him at the words—tight—and he felt it.

“Oh? That get you off, sweetheart? Being put in your place?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands clawed at the mirror now, trying to ground yourself as he drilled into you, sweat dripping from both your bodies, the room filled with the sound of skin on skin and your wrecked little cries.

“Go on,” he growled, voice shaking now with restraint. “Cum again. Let me feel it.”

You came hard.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, your cunt milking him with rhythmic, desperate clenches as you collapsed forward, thighs trembling.

Jongho cursed under his breath—lost it—and chased his high right behind you.

He didn’t pull out.

Not this time.

He buried himself so deep you swore you could taste it, pumping you full again with low, rough groans, head buried in the crook of your neck.

You both stayed like that for a moment. Panting. Sweating. His cock twitching inside you, your bodies pressed together like you couldn’t bear to be apart.

And then his voice again, low and teasing near your ear:

“Still think I’m just the quiet one?”

Your body was boneless—sprawled across the cool floor of the dance room, limbs twitching, breath shallow. Jongho didn’t move.

Not even when your walls fluttered again around him.

He was still inside you.

Still thick, still heavy, still hard.

Your breath caught. “You’re… still—”

“Shh,” he whispered against your ear, hips barely shifting. “Don’t move.”

He kept you there, folded underneath him, both of you facing the mirror, sweat and slick smeared across your thighs. His cock nestled deep inside your pulsing cunt like it belonged there, twitching every time you clenched.

“You’re keeping me warm, baby,” he murmured, mouth brushing your shoulder as he licked at the bite mark he left earlier. “Look at you… so fucked out you can’t even sass me anymore.”

You whimpered, trying to shift your hips.

He gripped your thigh tighter.

“Did I say you could move?”

You whined, needy.

“Aw, you miss it already? I haven’t even pulled out yet, and you’re already aching again.”

His fingers trailed down your front, ghosting over your abused clit—but never quite touching it.

You writhed helplessly. “Please…”

He chuckled. Dark. Mean.

“Oh? You want more?”

You nodded weakly, lips parted.

“You sure?” His teeth grazed your jaw. “You’ve been crying, moaning, twitching all night. Thought you were gonna black out a minute ago.”

Still, you gave him that look—half-begging, half-starved.

He kissed you. Deep. Sweet. Dirty.

Then his hips rolled forward slowly, pressing deeper, dragging a moan from your throat that made his cock twitch again.

“Yeah,” he groaned, low and filthy. “That’s the sound I wanted. You can stay just like this. Stuffed full. Dripping. Mine.”

You buried your face into his shoulder, whimpering as he kept you filled to the brim, cock stretching you gently while your body clenched and fluttered without rhythm. Not fucking—just holding—but still so intimate and obscene you were shaking again.

“You’re not leaving this room until I say so,” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. “Not until I’ve memorized how this pretty pussy feels wrapped around me.”

You shivered.

“Not until you cum one more time,” he added.

One more.

But he didn’t thrust.

Just rolled his hips slowly. Barely.

Enough to rub your clit against his pelvis with each motion. Enough to make you cry, overstimulated and desperate, body begging for release.

And you gave it to him. One last time.

A soft, shattered moan, legs trembling again as your cunt clenched and fluttered around him. You came with a gasp, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound, your whole body going limp under him.

He groaned—filthy, satisfied—and kissed your neck again.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispered.

And he didn’t pull out.

Not for a long, long time.

[drdawnbreaker]

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 ☆ 𝐑𝐄𝟒!𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧

Summary: You had one job and three rules. And you broke every single one.

Word count: 2.18k

Genre: Smut. Mafia Au.

Pairing: MobBoss!Leon x PrivateDriver!Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Gun violence. Some angst. Mention of death. Leon’s a bit bloody. Blood (obviously). Unprotected sex. Car sex. Squirting. Light-hearted banter. Hinting of sex work and abuse (doesn't go into detail). Speeding. Car chase. Fingering. Fucking while driving (don't do this). Pet names

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"So you like to drive cars? Or just for me?" His voice was deep, smooth like vintage whiskey. You could see his eyes stare you down through the rear view mirror.

"Mr. Kennedy, I can reassure you that you are one of my favourite people to drive for. But try not to boost your own ego. I do drive for others and ride other things other than your car." You didn't even smile, knowing exactly how to play this cat and mouse game that all Mob bosses do. But Leon was different in a way. You felt a thrill bloom in your tummy whenever his eyes were on you.

"Ride other things? Like what?" He sipped his liquor, legs spreading wider, with one hand resting dangerously close to his crotch.

"Mr Kennedy. Don't flatter yourself." You smirked.

"Oh no, i want to hear it, darling. What else would you find enjoyable to ride?" He shot the last of his drink, his hand evidently palming his clothed hard-on.

"I think you already know the answer sir."

"Hmm," was all he responded with.

-

That night you’d fuck yourself on your dildo with the idea of Leon palming himself while you drove. The way his soft pants and whimpers were stuck in your brain, playing on repeat as he continued to pleasure himself while you drove him home. You couldn’t have dropped him off sooner, cause you swore he was going to cum in his pants if he kept going.

‘Until next time, bunny.’

His voice was so smooth. Deep. You know you were playing a dangerous game by becoming involved with a client much less a feared mob boss that would kill someone that looked at him the wrong way. But the way he looked at you through the mirror every time you drove him. He was always so happy to see you, chatting about anything to keep his mind off his work. You were an escape for him. Something that was a reminder he was supposed to be this angry man twenty-four-seven. No, he could, laugh, tease, flirt, with you and you’d either shut him down or egg him on. Both of which rial him up even more.

The idea of touching you, having you. Even if it was for one night, it was becoming increasingly more tempting. But alas, he knew you. You are professional, and you wouldn’t disobey your company’s rules.

Do not sleep with the clients.

But something deep in your soul was screaming at you that all of your morality was about to go out the window. You were sent to pick up a client on a south port right after they had finished some trade. Well, that was the plan, at least, but here you were sitting an hour later after the supposed pick-up. This is getting ridiculous. You thought, shifting in your seat, trying to keep your muscles awake. What is taking him so long?

You knew of the client. Some lowlife trying to make it big in the mafia world. How he managed to hire you was a mystery. Maybe a debt is being paid? Or some sweet talking. But then again, from what you heard, he had neither up his sleeve. You closed your eyes for a moment, just a moment, trying to rest the tired feeling you were experiencing behind your temple. Everything was quiet, peaceful almost… Well, that was until you heard a gunshot, then two more following it.

You sat up and looked around frantically, spotting a few men rushing out of the large barn that sat by the waterfront. They were chasing a man, a scruffy blonde, looking like..—it’s Leon… it’s Leon S. fucking Kennedy.

The side door opened to a bloody-looking man with a feverious smile. His adrenaline was pumping to the point that you could see the veins in his neck bulging. His gun was still tight in his grip, wiping his brow with the back of the same hand. “I need you to get us out of here, princess.”

“I..B-but. Wait. My client…” You were so confused, not even registering you started the car. The men that had been chasing Leon were hot on your tail, so you began to floor it through the back roads of the port.

“Uh, yeah, well. He’s dead. He didn’t like the deal I offered and the bitch thought he could beat it out of me. ME! The king of fucking Raccoon City. Fucking arrogant pig.” San rambled but you barely heard what he had to say about the client. No, all you could think about was getting the fuck out of dogged and away from any of the crooks Leon managed to piss off. But then again pissing people off seemed like Leon’s specialty.

“Where do I even go from here those bastards are probably tracking my fucking car.” You’ve never spoken so out of line before in front of a client but here you were. Leon just raked his fingers through his dirty hair, licking his busted lip.

“Why would they be tracking us.” Leon started searching through the glove departments for any signs of a tracker, but you just huffed, clutching the wheel tighter before almost screaming at him.

“They would be tracking us ‘cause they are the ones that own this fucking car and I was supposed to drive their fucking boss to a fucking safe house you idiot.” You didn’t mean to blow up but the tension became so thick in the vehicle you felt like you had no choice. Leon sat still for a moment, never hearing someone call him out of his stupidity before other than his right hand, Ada. The silence was making your skin crawl, making you suddenly aware you just yelled at a mob boss. A mob boss that was definitely packing some kind of weapon…The fucking king of Raccoon City as he put it. You suddenly felt a hand touch your thigh making your whole body jump and the car almost swerved off the road.

“Well go on. Get us out of here, darling.” His voice was smooth and collected. It made your head spin. “B-but the track—If we get far enough, the tracker won’t reach, and then we can dump the car and run." Leon chuckled, turning back to stare at the road. You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep focus on the tar in front of you. He hasn't moved his fucking hand…

You started to speed up, swerving through the small amounts of traffic. You kept eyeing the rear-view mirror checking your back, and you noticed several cars tailing you.

Bastards.

You took a sharp left, causing Leon to shift in his seat and his hand that was perched on your thigh to slide up higher. You visibly shivered, making Leon aware of where his hand went. He just smirked, "Such a good girl. Getting me out of here. Remind me, why you don't drive for me permanently again?"

"Cause you flirt too much and I'm…" you felt his finger brush against your inner thigh… "I-I'm in a contract with the company I work for."

"Hmmm, well, you know I'm pretty good at making contracts disappear." He dared to reach further, and you were delusional enough to open your legs a little for him.

"H-he'd kill me. I can't leave." There was so much more in your contract that Leon didn't know of, but he could think of a few things the scum bag made you do. You have a passion for driving and driving fast. And he used that to get you to do other shit for him. Bastard.

"You won't have to ever do anything for him ever again. Come home with me. I'll look after you. Let you ride any of my cars… and anything else you might want…" he leaned towards your tense frame, seeing your knuckles turn white from how hard you held the wheel. "I'd give you the moon if you asked, darling. Anything you want you’ll get, my best girl."

Best girl…. oh, now your head is definitely spinning. Your foot hit the gas harder, reaching a long stretch of dirt road. Sitting at 90, you jumped to 120. "L-Leon…"

He popped the button of your dress pants, slipping his fingers delectably down until they grazed your bare core.

125km/h

"You like to be called my Best girl, huh? Just need some praise, princess?" His breath tickled as he licked a strip along your neck up to your ear, biting your ear lobe. All the while, his hand dipped further, running his long finger along your slit. "Fuck your soaked baby. Wet for me baby?" He chuckled, deeply.

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to close your eyes. "Leon p-please." You didn't know why you said that, but it was all you could think of. He pushed the pad of his finger against your clit, rubbing in slow little circles.

130km/h

"God you know how much I've thought about this pussy. How much I've dreamt about fucking her, tasting her. I bet you taste like fucking honey darling." His finger slid into your aching hole, making you gasp.

135km/h

Your watery eyes looked through the rear-view mirror, seeing no one behind you anymore, just a thick dust cloud created in your wake. You felt his finger slip in and out of you, making you open your legs wider for him. He chuckled, kissing your neck more until.

You slammed on the brakes, drifting the car through the dirt until it spun around and stopped in a sharp huff. Everything happened so quickly, but it was like you and Leon were in sync. Undoing your belts, he pulled his chair's brake, pulling the seat backwards so he had more leg room and was angled so you could climb on top of him.

Your lips captured his in a hot and messy kiss while his hand worked his belt and pants, slipping them down just enough so his naked ass could rest on the leather and his cock slapped against his clothed abdomen. You pulled your pants off while still in your seat. Ditching your slip-on sneakers before climbing onto his lap.

He gripped your blouse, ripping it off so the button flew everywhere. Neither of you cared though. Not as his lips latched on the top of your breasts, tugging your bra down so your tits could spill over the top. "Fuck,"

He groans as he catches a glimpse of your body. You are perfect, better than he imagined. "This was not how I wanted to ravish you."

"Yes, it was, don't fucking lie." You cut him off with another kiss. In truth, you were right. He had many dreams of fucking you senselessly in one or all of his vehicles. Maybe even on his bike, too.

"It's the thought that counts." He laughed against your lips.

"Shut up." You pulled your panties aside, sinking your fingers inside yourself. Leon watched in awe as you stretched yourself out on top of his twitching cock. And as if you could get more perfect, you moaned his name while doing it.

"Fuck your gorgeous." He slammed his head back against the chair and groaned as he bucked his hips up to try and get some kind of friction. But what he didn't expect was to feel your hand wrap tightly around his aching shaft. "Jesus fuck.."

It was your turn to giggle now, shifting your weight you lined your soaking entrance to his red angry cock tip, letting him breach your walls with a pop. You slowly sank down on his inch by inch. His hands flew for your hips, helping you bottom him out. "L-Leeonnnn y-you're huge. Fuck."

"Don't say shit like that. I-Fuck.. I won't last." His eyes hazily gazed to where you were connected feeling you pull up, then slam back down onto his cock. You circled your hips, drawing loud moans from both of you. Your hands fly to his shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours. Chest to chest. Leon nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a large inhale through his nose. He could smell your sweet perfume mixing with the lewd scent of sex.

"So perfect." He mumbled, bracing his feet to the floor before jackhammering into your soaked cunt. Your screams were muffled against his neck as his pace became ruthless and harsh. Your hips moved out of sync with his thrusts, perfectly letting you grind your clit against his pelvis, sending electricity up your spine.

"Leon, I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum." You whimpered, biting down on his shoulder fearing to draw blood.

"Yes, cum baby. I want to feel you cum around my cock. Be a good girl." He groaned, holding you tighter, feeling his own high creeping closer. Your tummy tugged tight and snapped. Your hips stilling, taking Leon’s abusive thrusts as you squirted all over his lap.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck." Leon slammed deep inside you, splurting his seed inside you, painting your walls with his cream. He kisses your shoulder, legs slightly shaking as he empties his load. You just laid there, taking every drop. Your pussy clenched around him, hissing at the sensitivity. Your fingers were laced in his hair, and his making shapes on your sweat-still clothed back.

"I broke the rules…" You whispered. Leon felt a little guilty that he made you break the rules of your company. He tainted you, and he was sorry for it. You'd never get another job as a driver if people found out you slept with a client. "You made me go over 140. You're lucky there weren't cops out here."

Oh, you weren’t complaining about sleeping with him.

"That's what you're worried about." San had to laugh, hugging your figure tighter as he chuckled against your neck.

"Yes, I could have crashed and fucked the car."

"Yeah, instead, you just fucked me." You sat up and slapped his chest for that comment.

-

© DrDawnBreaker. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

First time reader and Bakugo fuck, fluff or full smut upt o you

“Are you sure I look alright? It’s a pretty big night….” You ask Ochaco as she lays on your bed on her tummy, with her legs kicking behind her. You’re standing there showing off your new bra and pants set to her, twisting and turning, trying to feel somewhat comfortable in your skin that now felt like an oversized body bag. You had been umming and ahing between the red set and the yellow one. Ochaco had said that both complimented your lager chest beautifully, but that you needed to pick the set that made you feel the most comfortable.

“Will he even notice the colour? Im sure he’ll love whatever you choose.” She giggles as she watches you bend over slightly and arch your back, then tumble to the floor.

“What if he doesn’t even care, or worse yet, what if he LAUGHS at me? The one and only time I make him laugh and it’s cause im standing there in my undies trying to be sexy. I don’t think I can do this, im too nervous.” You stare into your full length mirror and pick apart your every flaw, as Ochaco sighs and tries to offer words of conformation that you do indeed look hot, he definitely won’t laugh, and that you’ll be absolutely fine.

“Oh crap, it’s 8 o’clock already! You gotta get going, he’s gonna be more pissed than usual if you’re late! Chuck your comfies on and get your ass going cutie! You’ve got this! I think the film ends at 10, so we should all be back around 10.30/11 I think. “ Ochaco had convinced everyone to go out to the movies, which meant you and katsuki could have your first night alone together. You knew you loved your best friend but this….this was marriage material. Every single time you guys had even kissed for too long, someone always had to get one of your attention by knocking on the door, come crashing in, emergencies seemed endless when you two had any alone time together. So this, this meant it was the big night. The night you both finally lost your virginities. No knocking, no random background noises interrupting, no stupid rambling from denki at the end of your bed completely oblivious that katsukis hand was up your shirt….nothing could get in the way. Except maybe your own nerves.

As you hugged her goodbye, she gave you a cheerful look and kissed the top of your head,

“You’ve got this, it’s just Bakugo. He’s not some scary beast, you asked him out after all, what’s more scary than that?!” She giggled, waving goodbye and set off to meet everyone at the entrance, and unraveled her marvellous lie about you being poorly and Bakugo being angry that he had to stay back to take care of you. As you heard her chatting away to everyone, you took a deep breath and knocked on his dorm door.

“Why’re you knocking? Cm’in you idiot.” He shouted from over the top of his drum set. You slowly walked in and saw him finishing up a set on his electric drum set, headphone half off to hear for your knocking. You’d stared at him countless times on his drum set, shirtless, and always fell into a love sick daze as he pounded away, but this time, you felt almost too nervous to even look at him. As he stood up and chucked his headphones ontop of the set, you stood awkwardly in his doorway, stiff and uneasy,

“Whatcha doing weirdo? You look like youve got a stick up your ass. Come ere!” His face angry as always, but you had learnt to decipher his sweetness over time, as he outstretched his arms for a cuddle. You walked over slowly and placed your head on his chest, not in your usual loving embrace which usually nearly knocks him over, but in a very shy, timid way.

“Why you being weird? Scared im gonna fuck you or something now we’re alone or what?” His usual teasing caused a smirk to slap across your face but this time you only let out a small laugh, then buried your head into his chest. Even though his body leaked fiery heat from it, you could feel that your face was even hotter as embarrassment scolded you. He could tell something was bothering you because after all, he always noticed, always kept his eyes on any little shift in you.

“Look, babe, I know Ochaco got everyone to fuck off out so we could be alone, but that doesn’t automatically mean we have to have mad sex across the whole building. If you wanna try it we can, if not we can watch some dumb movies and if you’re good to me, I might even let you do that shitty face mask thing you’re always asking to do….” Your eyes perked up to meet his, relief washed over your body as you kissed the end of his nose. You wanted to have sex, Christ, it was all you could think about anytime his body was even in the same room as you, but now it had actually come to the time, you couldnt think of anything scarier. Hell, you’d even prefer to argue with mr aizawa right now. As he cuddled your head into his chest and stroked your hair, you let out a deep sigh and snuggled into him, squeezing your arms around him like you usually did.

“Right, so, about the fucking….” You bucked back as your cheeks and tops of your ears immediately turned a flushed pink, as he started laughing at you with his stupid low growl. You slapped his chest and walked over to his bed, where you resumed your usual spot, curled up so he could climb in behind you and spoon you. You grabbed the stuffed all might cat teddy you made him keep on his bed and settled in, shifting your ass slightly so you were more comfortable ontop of his duvet, and patted behind you to summon him over. His wiped the sweat from his forehead, turned the music channel on and climbed into his assigned seat. As he cradled his legs around yours and put his arm under your lifted head so you could rest it on his biceps, he lifted your shirt slightly and started tracing swirls on your back. After a few moments, he grabs your hips and pulled them into him slightly, so you could feel his pelvis against your ass, making you suddenly very aware of his dick poking you. Usually when he did this, you’d push your ass back hard, make him jump then turn around and make out with him as he touched himself. This time? You stayed completely still. He pushed his boner into you again, hoping that maybe you didn’t feel it the first time, but again you didn’t move.

“What’s up your ass? You’re acting weird….” He pulls you onto your back and leans over you slightly, terrified to force you into anything, but knowing you needed to look into his eyes so you’d fold and confess your sins to him.

“Okay okay….” You let out a deep sigh and brace yourself, “ im terrified of fucking you. What if I get it wrong? What if you realise your gay, what if I make a weird noise and you end up hating me, what if we start and everyone comes back and bursts through the door and sees us naked together and everyone laughs and I die from embarrassment and you have to tell my family what happened and….” He interrupts your rambling with a soft, passionate kiss. He reaches his hand under your ear slightly and gently rubs the side of your face with his thumb. This always shut you up.

“Listen you idiot. I don’t actually care if we do or not. Don’t get me wrong, I really fucking want to, but not if it’s gotten you acting like this. If we have to wait a year then we have to wait a year, if it happens tonight it happens tonight. Stop being a prick and just go with the flow. Im not going to hurt you, in case you may have forgotten, you’re not the only virgin here….” Suddenly his words calmed you, you had a tendency to get in your own head at the best of times , but this was a whole new level. You breathed him in and decided to let your mind ease. You’d been dating for 6 months and you knew he wasn’t going to push you to do anything you didn’t want to, hell, he made sure you were always the one making the first move. The first kiss, the first undershirt touch, everything.

You decided to let your body tell you what it wanted to do, as you embraced his lips. Soft, delicate lips pressed against yours, he was an aggressive asshole most of the time, but when it came to you, he was nothing but tended, soft, as if his callused hands could shatter you at the lightest squeeze. He wrapped you up in his arms, completely encapsulating you, as you moved your hands from his chest down to his waist band. The deeper you kissed, the harder he pulled you into him. His kisses less controlled and sloppier now, you could feel the heat rising from him, his passion, his excitement. As you reached under his waist band, you could feel his breath grow hotter, felt him start to pant into your open mouth. As you grabbed his dick and started moving your hand in an up and down motion, he bit your lip, letting an excited sigh leave his mouth. He then traced his fingers down your side slowly and reached into your pants, his fingers warm and thick, placing only one to begin with at your entrance. As he glided it in, you winced slightly and he immediately pulled back, almost completely out of your pants. You give him a reassuring chuckle and push your hips slightly back into his hand as he carries on. You start to jerk your hand faster as he thrusts his fingers in and out to match your tempo. You start to pant and arch your back as you feel the sickeningly sweet warmth rise from your stomach. He starts biting at your neck, his canines breaking the skin slightly as he sucked, pulling you closer to him. He pulls your hand away and reaches over you for his bedside draw, pulling out a condom.

“Im not saying we have to use it, I just don’t want to get too carried away and forget okay smart ass.” You laughed and ripped it open with your teeth, staring into his crimson eyes, now wide and slightly intimidated. You pass it to him as he sleeves it onto his throbbing cock, and as he looks back up at you he whispers in his low, gruff voice,

“You sure about this? I don’t wanna do an…”

“Fuck me.” You interrupt abruptly, smirking at him as you bite your bottom lip. That was more than enough for him to throw you under him as he climbed in between your legs, claiming you as his own. As he guides himself to your sopping wet pussy, he hesitates slightly.

“I love you, you damn nerd.”

This was the first time he’d ever said it, and of course he had to try to play it off as an insult. You grab his face and kiss all around it,

“I love you too,” you say between kisses, “now show me why you’re the strongest, the best, why you’re the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, baby.” As you see a fire ignite behind his eyes, he guided himself into you. You both inhale sharply as he enters slowly, with each inch delving deeper, the harder you both panted. You claw at his back as if pulling him closer to you grounded you in your euphoria. Sweat dripped from his forehead, now pressed against yours, and as it trickled down your temple, you felt your heads almost head butting each others from the motion of his thrusts. He then suddenly stops, a jerking motion as if he’d just pulled his back confused you, until you look at his face and see his eyes clenched shut, his mouth hanging open and quick exhales escape him. Did he just fucking cum? After a few seconds he looks down at you and everts his gaze. He tries his best to carry on thrusting, but with each thrust he winces slightly, so you stop him.

“Baby don….”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it. Give me a minute.” His cheeks flush red under the blonde spikes covering his eyes. You reach your hand up to grab his face as he pulls away and gets off of you. As you sit up slightly he tries to hide the now completely full, almost spilling over condom and mutters that the damn thing must be broken,

“There is no way this is right, how the fuck can it feel that good with this bin bag between us?! I thought it was meant to feel shittier with one of these one…” he scrambles over you to find another, “stay there, maybe i have to try another one,” you can see the frustration and embarrassment beaming off his body as he tries to rectify his poor performance.

“Baby, it’s a compliment. I feel so good you couldnt help but cum? That’s literally the best out come to me.” He sits back, lowering the condom into his lap as he slowly lets his stare meet yours.

“Wait what….dont fuck with me. Don’t try to make me feel better, and if you DARE FUCKING TELL ANYON…” you interrupt him with a kiss, holding his face. His anger dissipates as he sinks slightly into your hands,

“I felt so good you couldnt help yourself….i made the great fucking Bakugo cum after 10 minutes?! I can die a happy woman now.”

“You really think it was 10 minutes….” He softens his gaze, looking to you for comfort and confirmation. Although you knew it was likely a minuet or two, you had to help the poor guy out. You loved to tease him as much as he teased me, but this felt beyond cruel to joke about.

“Im assuming it was a bit longer but, I can’t really be held accountable for my time keeping skills when I’m literally in my element, now can I …” you kiss the end of his nose as a smirk crawls across his face. You pull his head onto your chest as you lay back down, and start to play with his hair as both your panting slowed. He cuddles into your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him as if he truly thought that loosening his grip meant you slipped away from him. After a few seconds you heard gentle snores escaping his mouth, and a slick of his dribble creeping slowly onto your side. You laid your head back and laughed to yourself, internally thankful for everything that had lead up to this moment, and how you couldnt WAIT to tell Ochaco exactly what had happened.

[lov3lycosmos]

𝑅𝑜𝑜𝑚 0406 — H.H

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut MDNI

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: non idol!hyunjin x fem!reader

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: while hanging out at the hotel bar, you notice a man that catches your eye~

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: one-night stand, dom!Hyunjin, mirror play, degradation + praise, hair pulling, spanking, cumplay, aftercare, light choking, fingering, oral (f and m rec), rough sex, just pure filth...

𝑤.𝑐: 1.6k

𝐶𝑜𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: just had to write something for his new photoshoot cause holy FUCK he looks so good ughhhhhhhh, it's not super long but it's something!

𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦!

You spotted him the second you walked into the bar—leaned against the counter, black silk shirt unbuttoned halfway, collarbones glinting under the moody golden lights. He looked like a fucking dream: tall, effortless, with wet hair swept back like he’d just stepped out of a shower and decided to ruin someone’s life.

And for the last twenty minutes, he hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

You tried to play it cool. Ordered a drink. Laughed at your friend’s comment. Pretended not to notice the way he was watching you like a cat with its paw already on the mouse’s tail.

But the second he stood, drink in hand, and started walking your way, your heart kicked into overdrive.

"Alone?" he asked, voice smooth and low. The kind that hummed under your skin.

You raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

He smirked. “Maybe I’ll fix that.”

You let your eyes trail down his body—deliberately slow. The silk shirt clung to his skin in places, hinting at a toned chest, abs, muscle just beneath softness. Rings glinted on his fingers where they curled around his glass. And his scent—warm and clean, just a little spicy—wrapped around you the second he leaned in.

“You're not from around here,” he said knowingly.

“Nope. Just in town for the weekend.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, gaze flicking to your lips. “Then we should make it count.”

You huffed a soft laugh, amused. “You always this direct?”

“Only when I see something I want.”

The air between you tensed like a pulled string. His hand ghosted over your hip, not quite touching—just enough to let you feel the heat. And when he leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear, his breath sent shivers down your spine.

“Let me take you upstairs,” he whispered. “Just once. No strings, no pressure. Just you, me, and one night you’ll think about every time you touch yourself after this.”

You should have walked away. Should’ve rolled your eyes and finished your drink.

Instead, you met his gaze head-on and asked, “Are you always this cocky?”

His grin deepened. “Only when I know I’ll be right.”

And the worst part?

So did you.

You let him lead you out of the bar, his hand pressed warm and firm to the small of your back. The walk through the lobby was silent but heavy with tension—his thumb occasionally brushing skin, his gaze never leaving your face, your body, your mouth.

By the time the elevator doors closed behind you, your pulse was a drumbeat in your throat.

Hyunjin leaned against the mirrored wall and looked you up and down with the kind of hunger that made your thighs clench. “Still time to change your mind,” he offered softly, though his eyes betrayed how much he hoped you wouldn’t.

You stepped in closer, tilting your head. “Still time to disappoint me,” you teased back.

He laughed, and the sound was deep, amused, dangerous. Then he pushed off the wall and cornered you gently, one hand braced beside your head, the other brushing your jaw.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he whispered, mouth barely a breath from yours. “Disappointment isn’t in my vocabulary.”

And the second the elevator dinged at his floor, he took your hand and tugged you down the hallway.

You didn’t even know his full name. But the second his hotel door clicked shut behind you, you knew you’d let him do whatever he wanted.

The first kiss wasn’t sweet. It was filthy. Tongue, teeth, hands everywhere—Hyunjin kissed like he wanted to consume you, like he was starving and you were the first meal he’d had in days. His hands roamed instantly—fingertips dragging down your spine, palming your ass, gripping harshly enough to bruise.

You whimpered into his mouth when he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged your head back. His lips ghosted over your jawline before latching onto your throat, sucking hard. “Mine for tonight,” he growled, teeth scraping against your pulse point. “Don’t even think about covering these.”

Then you were walking—no, stumbling—backward as he pushed you toward the giant mirror across from the bed. His hands didn’t leave your body for a second. When your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he spun you to face the mirror.

"Look," he ordered, standing behind you.

And god—you did. Your lips were already red and kiss-swollen, hair tangled, pupils blown wide. But it was Hyunjin that made your knees wobble. Standing behind you, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes were locked on your reflection. His black silk shirt clung to his damp skin, half-buttoned but completely open at the chest, and his pants hung low enough to make your mouth water.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, eyes still locked on yours in the mirror. “Do you see how fucking pretty you look like this? Ruined and I haven’t even started.”

His hand slid between your legs, fingers teasing over the slick mess soaking your underwear. “This for me?” he teased, rubbing slow circles. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”

You gasped as his fingers pushed your panties aside. Two slipped in with ease, curling just right. Your knees buckled, but he caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other still thrusting and curling deep inside. His rings were cold against your skin, his voice hot in your ear.

“Such a slutty little hole,” he growled. “You’d let me fuck you in front of this mirror, wouldn’t you? Let me bend you over and watch while I make you beg for it.”

You moaned—loud and shameless—and he laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

He pulled his fingers out and dragged them to your lips. “Open.”

You obeyed, tongue wrapping around his fingers as he pushed them in. “Good girl,” he praised, watching your reflection intently. “Keep that mouth open while I ruin the rest of you.”

You barely had time to process before he was bending you over the bed, cheek pressed to the cool sheets. His hands gripped your hips, nails digging in as he aligned himself behind you.

The stretch of him was devastating. He didn’t ease in—he filled you in one deep, hard thrust that made your vision blur.

"Fuck," he hissed. "You're tight. Made for me. Just fucking made for me."

He fucked you mercilessly. Hard, deep thrusts that had you gasping and crying out his name. His hand wrapped around your throat, just tight enough to make your thoughts haze.

“That’s it,” he growled, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back, pace relentless. “Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel know how good I fuck this cunt.”

He spanked you—once, twice—hand cracking across your ass as he slammed into you harder. “Say it,” he barked. “Say who this pussy belongs to.”

“You!” you cried out, broken. “You, Hyunjin—fuck, it’s yours!”

“Damn right it is.”

He pulled out and flipped you over effortlessly, dragging you to the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees, fingers spreading you open before his mouth latched onto your clit.

You screamed.

Tongue fast and merciless, he licked and sucked like he was trying to devour your soul. One hand held your hips down while the other plunged two fingers back inside you, curling perfectly. Your thighs shook, eyes rolled back, back arching clean off the bed.

“You gonna cum?” he growled against you. “Then cum all over my fucking face.”

You did.

It hit you like a shockwave—white-hot and explosive. Your thighs clenched around his head but he didn’t stop, didn’t let up, dragging the orgasm out until you were sobbing from overstimulation.

He rose from his knees slowly, mouth and chin glistening. “Told you I’d ruin you,” he murmured, crawling over you. “Now be a good girl and take it one more time.”

He slammed back into you and this time—he didn’t stop until he came with a low, guttural groan, hips stuttering as he filled you, whispering filth in your ear even as he pulsed inside.

You didn’t know how long you laid there—naked, sore, dazed—on the rumpled hotel bed. Your body buzzed from aftershocks, your thighs sticky with his release, your breathing still uneven.

Hyunjin brushed the hair from your forehead with surprising tenderness. His touch, once rough and possessive, was now soft. “You okay?” he asked, voice low and genuine.

You nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

“Too much?”

“No,” you said with a shaky laugh. “Perfect.”

He smiled then—something real, something soft. “Good.”

He stood, walked into the bathroom, and returned with a warm towel. He knelt between your thighs again, this time just to clean you up. His fingers were delicate now, his eyes focused only on making sure you were comfortable.

Once he was done, he gently pulled you into his arms and laid back on the bed, keeping you close against his chest. The scent of his cologne clung to your skin—deep and warm.

“You were…” he started, then kissed your temple. “So fucking good.”

You chuckled into his neck. “You too.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. His fingers traced lazy circles into your back.

“You know,” he said, almost shyly, “I don’t usually… do this.”

“What? One-night stands?”

“No,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Have them stay after.”

Your heart stuttered.

You looked up at him. His eyes were calm again, but there was something soft there. Something unsure.

You smiled.

“Then maybe this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.”

He blinked, and then the corner of his mouth lifted in a grin that made your stomach flip.

“Yeah?” he asked. “You’d come back?”

“Only if you keep the silk on.”

He laughed—loud and real this time—and pulled you even closer. “Deal.”

𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @vampzity @sooniedoongiedori25 @mhluvie @yaorzu-blog @lze325 @felixleftchickennugget @lezleeferguson-120 @m-325 @psychicyouthfox @pixie-felix @angel-writes-here @heechwe @galaxy4489 @minniesverse @gncbnahc

[iamquiantrelle]

XOXO YOUR FAVE WAG (ONE SHOT) • iamquaintrelle

# summary: posessive! kyky. requested by this ask. # wc: 3.6k # pairings: kylian mbappe x black spoiled gf (fc: 6kenza) # tags: @kmlottin @masn-mount @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @szariahwroteit @muglermami @goodgyalgonebadd @sailurmewn @perfecttrashface # author’s note: got a scenario for your fave wag? - send them here // one shot series masterlist

PART IV: FUCK OFF, JUDE

Kylian leaned back in his seat on the team bus, stretching his long legs as far as the limited space would allow. Madrid was on its way to Pamplona for their away match against Osasuna, a trip that would take just over four hours by road. Coach Ancelotti had decided against flying for this one—something about team bonding or whatever.

His attention drifted to his phone, where a new notification had just appeared. A text message from her with a mirror selfie in those little sleep shorts he loved, captioned with just a kiss emoji. The shot perfectly captured her curves—those full hips and rounded ass that drove him crazy. She might be petite in height, but she was all woman where it counted.

"Putain," he muttered under his breath, shifting in his seat.

"C'est quoi?" Camavinga asked, peering over from the seat beside him.

Kylian angled the phone away with a smirk. "Rien que tu dois voir." (Nothing you need to see.)

Tchouaméni, seated across the aisle, snorted. "C'est sa meuf qui lui envoie des photos, c'est sûr." (It's his girl sending him photos, for sure.)

"Exactement," Kylian admitted with a grin. "Et elle est de plus en plus belle chaque jour." (Exactly. And she's getting finer every day.)

His girl was getting more gorgeous by the day, especially since that hormonal implant had made her already perfect body even more tempting—her breasts fuller, her curves more pronounced. The implant itself was another turn-on, knowing she had that little device nestled in her arm, giving them freedom without worries. Who needed to pull out with that thing in place? Not him. He smirked evilly at the thought.

Cama rolled his eyes. "On va pas parler de ça pendant quatre heures, quand même?" (We're not going to talk about this for four hours, are we?)

"Non, j'ai quelque chose d'autre à vous demander." Kylian's expression grew more serious. "Vous avez remarqué comment Bellingham regarde ma copine?" (No, I have something else to ask you. Have you noticed how Bellingham looks at my girlfriend?)

Aurel and Cama exchanged a quick glance before Aurel replied carefully.

"Il la trouve belle. Comme tout le monde." (He finds her beautiful. Like everyone.)

"Non, c'est plus que ça." Kylian shook his head. "Ses yeux restent sur elle trop longtemps. À chaque fois qu'elle vient à l'entraînement, ou aux dîners d'équipe." (No, it's more than that. His eyes linger on her too long. Every time she comes to training, or team dinners.)

Cama sighed. "Mec, tu deviens parano. Jude est un bon gars." (Man, you're getting paranoid. Jude is a good guy.)

"Je n'ai pas dit qu'il n'était pas un bon gars." Kylian's voice lowered as he glanced toward the front of the bus where Bellingham sat with Vinícius. "Mais j'ai vu ce regard avant. Il a un crush sur elle." (I didn't say he wasn't a good guy. But I've seen that look before. He has a crush on her.)

Aurel leaned forward. "Et alors? Ta meuf est canon, elle est intelligente, elle est cool. Bien sûr qu'il va la regarder. Mais il ne ferait jamais rien." (So what? Your girl is hot, she's smart, she's cool. Of course he's going to look. But he would never do anything.)

"Je sais." Kylian rubbed his jaw. "Mais ça m'énerve quand même." (I know. But it still annoys me.)

"T'as vraiment peur qu'elle puisse être intéressée?" Cama asked, incredulous. (Are you really afraid she might be interested?)

Kylian snorted. "Non. Jamais. Elle n'a d'yeux que pour moi." He said it with absolute confidence. "Mais c'est mon territoire, tu comprends?" (No. Never. She only has eyes for me. But it's my territory, you understand?)

"Ah, le fameux 'territoire'." Aurel made air quotes. "Comme le collier avec le K?" (Ah, the famous 'territory.' Like the necklace with the K?)

Kylian couldn't help his self-satisfied smile. That necklace. His initial resting against her skin, visible to everyone. A clear signal of what everyone already knew: she was his.

"Exactement comme ça." (Exactly like that.)

"T'es grave possessif mec," Cama laughed. "Heureusement qu'elle aime ça." (You're seriously possessive man. Good thing she likes it.)

"Elle adore ça," Kylian corrected with a knowing smirk. (She loves it.)

The conversation shifted to the upcoming match as the Spanish countryside rolled by outside their windows. Kylian listened half-heartedly, his mind wandering back to her. His Cameroonian queen with the body that defied logic—slim waist with hips and ass for days. He loved watching her cook those traditional dishes, jollof rice and cabbage that kept her curves just the way he liked them.

By the time they arrived at the team hotel in Pamplona, Kylian had formulated a plan. Coach Ancelotti gathered them in the lobby for a brief team meeting.

"Alright, gentlemen," the Italian coach announced in his accented Spanish. "We have training tomorrow morning at 10. Until then, your time is yours. Rest, eat well, and be professional." His eyes lingered on a few of the younger players. "Remember, we represent Real Madrid at all times."

As the team dispersed, Kylian pulled out his phone, sending her a quick text:

Hotel Tres Reyes, Room 714. 11PM. Wear something easy to take off.

Her response came almost immediately:

Demanding tonight, aren't we? I'll see what I can do... if you ask nicely 😏

He grinned, typing back:

Please, baby. I need you.

Three dots appeared, then:

Since you asked so sweetly... see you at 11. I'll bring the surprise I told you about 🔥

Kylian's imagination immediately went into overdrive wondering what "surprise" she had in store. The next few hours of team dinner and downtime passed in a blur of anticipation.

At precisely 11:03 PM, a soft knock came at his door. Kylian opened it to find her standing there in a long coat, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders, that mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"You're late," he said, pulling her inside and closing the door.

"By three minutes," she laughed, reaching up to loop her arms around his neck.

"Three minutes too long." His hands found her waist, then slid lower to grip her ass through the coat. "Let me see what you're wearing under this."

She stepped back, eyes locked with his as she slowly undid the coat's belt and let it fall open. Beneath it, she wore a matching lingerie set in Madrid white that left little to the imagination.

"Fuck," he breathed, his body responding instantly. "Come here."

What happened next was a blur of hands, lips, and increasingly loud affirmations of pleasure. Kylian lost himself in her curves, in the feeling of her beneath him, around him. Every moan that escaped her lips fueled his possessive desire, driving him to make her cry out louder, to make sure she—and anyone within earshot—knew exactly who she belonged to.

"Mine," he growled against her ear, the word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yours," she gasped back, nails digging into his shoulders, "always yours."

In the hallway outside, Jude was returning to his room after dinner with Camavinga and Vinícius when they heard it—unmistakable moans and screams coming from Kylian's room.

"Bloody hell," Jude muttered, eyes widening slightly.

Vinícius snickered. "Someone's having a good pre-match warm-up."

"We're definitely going to win tomorrow," Cama said with absolute certainty.

Jude gave him a confused look. "How do you know that?"

"Sex before a match turns Kylian into a Super Saiyan," Cama explained matter-of-factly. "We're gonna win the match, bro."

As if on cue, the sounds from inside the room reached a crescendo, then gradually subsided into silence. The three teammates exchanged awkward glances, unsure whether to keep moving or wait.

Before they could decide, the door opened and Kylian emerged, shirtless and a light sheen of sweat still visible on his chest. He looked utterly satisfied and completely unembarrassed to find them in the hallway.

He gave them a nod, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth before walking down the hall to the ice machine.

Jude shook his head, rolling his eyes as he continued down the hall to his own room. Behind him, he could hear Vinícius and Cama's muffled laughter.

_____________________________________________

The next morning in the locker room, Jude was lacing up his boots when a shadow fell across him. He looked up to find Kylian standing there, already in his match kit.

"Hey," Kylian said casually, leaning against the adjacent locker.

"Hey," Jude replied, finishing with his laces.

"About last night..." Kylian began, though his tone held no trace of actual remorse. "Sorry you had to hear that."

Jude snorted. "No, you're not."

A slow smile spread across Kylian's face. "You're right. I'm not." Then his expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Look, I know you have a crush on my girl."

Jude's head snapped up. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. I see how you look at her."

"Bruv, I—"

"I like you, Jude," Kylian interrupted, his voice low. "I think we can be cool for real. But I don't fucking play about my Squirtle."

"Squirtle?" Jude repeated, baffled.

Kylian ignored the question. "Your crush needs to end. Simple as that."

Jude stared at him for a long moment. "It's like that?"

"It's been like that," Kylian replied without hesitation.

Then he turned and walked away, the click-clacking of his boots echoing off the floor as he headed toward the tunnel.

Jude huffed out a breath, thinking everything over. Kylian was taking things way too far. Sure, his girl was fit—more than fit if he was being honest with himself—but to think that he would ever try anything...

A loud clap startled him out of his thoughts. Coach Ancelotti stood at the locker room entrance.

"Bellingham! Tunnel, now! The team is waiting."

Jude jumped to his feet, pushing thoughts of Kylian and his warnings from his mind. It was game time, and whatever drama existed off the pitch needed to stay there.

As he jogged toward the tunnel to join his teammates, one thought kept circling in his head: what the hell kind of nickname was "Squirtle" anyway?

[haliexn]

Midnight Surprise! ♡

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader +18.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, established couple, suggestive language, vanilla, oral, penetration. (English is not my native language so sorry if anything reads weird, it's my first smut so I hope it's acceptable, I'm not a literal professional I'm writing it out of boredom)

Synopsis: You were bored and decided to try on a lingerie set. You didn't expect Satoru to arrive just at that moment… let alone react like that. ♡

It was about midnight. You were on the couch, watching a random documentary just to kill time. In fact, the only thing keeping you awake was waiting. He should have arrived an hour ago, but about twenty minutes ago he had sent you a message saying he was delayed and would be home as soon as possible.

Fighting sleep, you decided to get up and walk to your room, looking for something to help you stay awake. As you mentally reviewed your options, you remembered that lingerie set you had bought three days ago.With a naughty little smile, you went straight to the closet, pulled out the bag and looked at the pastel pink set you had barely had time to try on. You quickly undressed and started to put it on. When you finally saw yourself in the mirror, you could hardly believe your eyes. You had never worn lingerie before, and the way it enhanced your figure took your breath away. You were so distracted looking at yourself and playing with a strap that you almost didn't hear the front door open. -I'm home…" Satoru's voice echoed from the hallway. Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, you went out to meet your boyfriend, completely forgetting how you were dressed. Only when you had him in front of you, with his ice blue eyes directly on your body, did you realize what you looked like.

Gojo was silent for a few seconds, clearly surprised. The fatigue he was carrying disappeared instantly. His eyes ran up and down your body, and his tongue barely peeked out from the corner of his lips. -So… you were waiting for me," he murmured with a mischievous smile, while his gaze became more intense. You, completely blushing, tried to cover yourself with your arms, but he took a step forward before you could move too much. -Don't hide now," he said in a soft but commanding tone, "You look amazing… and this," his fingers brushed the thin fabric of the lace, "won't last long on if you keep looking at me like this. Gojo caressed your cheek tenderly, contrasting with the desire burning in his gaze. -You had no idea how much I needed this today…" he whispered, and then leaned in to kiss you. His lips, soft but hungry, caught yours with a perfect blend of urgency and affection.

His hands descended down your bare back, brushing the thin fabric of the lace until they reached the curve of your waist. A shiver ran through your body as you felt his fingers trace slow, firm lines, exploring you as if for the first time. -This color looks so fucking good on you," he murmured against your mouth, before slowly bending down. Let me try it on properly. Before you could say anything, he was already on his knees in front of you. He held you by the hips as his lips began to leave a trail of soft kisses down your inner thighs. Every brush of his mouth was an electric shock. Gently, he pushed the lace aside, exposing you to his hungry gaze. -So pretty… and only for me," he said before diving between your legs.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue, warm and expert, caress every nook and cranny of you with slow, deliciously torturous movements. He knew exactly how to touch you, where to stop, where to press. His hands held you steady as your knees trembled slightly. -Sa… Satoru…" you whispered between gasps, losing yourself in the sensations. -Yes, love? -he asked without stopping moving, looking at you with those burning blue eyes. The pressure grew inside you, the rhythm of his tongue became firmer until, unable to help it, you collapsed against him with a restrained cry. Your body trembled as he was still there, holding you and murmuring sweet nothings against your skin. He stood up slowly, wiping the corners of his lips with a satisfied smile. -I need to be inside you… now. You didn't have time to respond. In a second, he had already lifted you with ease, as if you weighed nothing, carrying you to the bed. He hurriedly got rid of his clothes, and when you had him completely in front of you, naked and visibly aroused, you couldn't help but bite your lip.

He stood over you, supporting himself with one hand while with the other he guided his erection towards your center, barely grazing your entrance with the tip. He looked you straight in the eye. -Are you sure? -he asked, though his voice was already trembling with need. -Always," you answered with a soft smile. He entered you with a low, deep moan, and you both exhaled in unison. His movements began slow, intimate, as if he wanted to savor you. His lips found yours once more, and his hips moved in rhythm with your agitated breathing.

Each thrust was deep, rhythmic, as if he wanted to mark all his love deep inside you. He filled you completely, again and again, with movements that were not hurried, but precisely calculated to make you tremble. The grinding of his pelvis against yours, the wet sound of your bodies colliding, and his increasingly ragged breathing created an intimate symphony just for the two of you. His forehead rested on yours, his eyes barely open, looking at you as if you were the only real thing in the universe. -You're perfect… so fucking perfect," he murmured huskily, his breath warm against your lips.

His thrusts became more intense, more desperate. With each thrust, you felt the knot in your belly tighten dangerously. Your nails dug into his back as your hips moved instinctively, seeking more, wordlessly begging him not to stop. -Satoru… -you whimpered against his neck- -Don't stop… please.

And he didn't. He reached down with one hand to rub your clitoris in slow, firm circles, synchronizing the rhythm with his movements. Pleasure shot through you like an electric current. You arched beneath him, lost, completely his. Everything in you trembled: your legs, your voice, your chest, your thoughts. -Come for me," he whispered in your ear, his tone as sweet as it was commanding. I want to feel you break for me. And you did. Your orgasm came sweeping, tearing, stealing your breath. Your body contracted around him tightly, and that was all it took for him to follow you. Satoru moaned your name with a mixture of devotion and need, sinking one last time as he unloaded inside you, hot and deep.

You lay panting, still connected, your skin sticky with sweat, trembling from the last spasms of pleasure. A few minutes passed and you could still feel him inside you, even after your bodies slowly separated. A mixture of his scent and yours slid down your thigh, warm. Satoru lay next to you for a moment, one arm across your belly, feeling your soft tremors.

-Don't move, he whispered. Let me take care of you. He got up lazily, but his gestures were attentive. He took a warm, wet towel, and returned to the bed to wipe you carefully, kissing your belly as he did so. Each rub was slow, reverent, as if caressing you after sex was just as important as bringing you to orgasm. -Are you all right, love? -he asked, leaving a kiss on the inside of your thigh. Too much? -I'm floating…" you whispered with a sleepy smile. But I'm fine. Very well. He smiled too, visibly relieved. He lay down next to you, now completely naked under the freshly arranged sheets. He drew you against his chest, and your legs automatically entangled with his. His warmth wrapped around you like an extra blanket, safe, protective. -I'll never get over it," he said softly, kissing your forehead. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you tremble for me… you've got me all fucked up, you know? It made you smile even more. His fingers caressed your arm, drawing soft circles on your still sensitive skin. -Then stay fucked up. I'm fucked up for you too. Gojo laughed softly, that laugh of his that vibrated in his chest and that you loved to hear so much when you were the one to provoke it. -I will… every day, every night. For you. You both stayed like that, entangled in warmth, soft words and slow caresses, until sleep began to overcome you. The last thing you felt was his hand on your waist, his quiet breathing against your neck, and his voice murmuring: -I love you more than anything.

And so, you fell asleep. Satisfied. Secure. Loved.

[fwaist]

JAW once said in an interview that “Carmy does not fuck” which is 1. hilarious and 2. in character and 3. intriguing, and I would love to hear your headcanons regarding this🙏🙏💕

of COURSE carmy doesn’t fuck. not because he couldn’t, but because he’s so emotionally repressed, chronically stressed, and buried under ten layers of guilt and self-loathing that sex would just be another thing he overthinks into oblivion. the man is hanging on by a thread and that thread is beef. so yeah. he doesn’t fuck—but if he ever did? it would be awkward and intense and kind of sweet in a “he’s trying so hard please someone give him a hug” way. and i have so, so many thoughts about that. okay—diving in.

Carmy’s not inexperienced, per se. He knows what sex is. He’s watched enough porn, read the occasional questionable Reddit thread, jerked off in rushed, guilt-tinged moments between 14-hour shifts and deep spirals of culinary self-loathing. But sex—actual sex, with a person who looks at him like you do? That’s a different kind of pressure. It’s a kind of heat he doesn’t know how to hold.

He prepped for this. Not like—intentionally, but… kind of. He showered longer than usual. Used the good soap. Trimmed everything down there as best he could and definitely nicked himself once or twice in the process—stood over the sink like it was a high-stakes mise en place, squinting into the mirror, muttering, “Okay, slow, slow, don’t fuck this up, chef…” The result is neat, if a little uneven. He smells like clean cotton and whatever expensive shampoo Sugar left in the apartment.

When it finally happens—when you tug him by the hand to the bed and he stammers something like, “We don’t have to, if you’re not—if this is too soon or whatever, I can wait, I’m chill,”—you kiss him quiet. He melts. Shoulders slumping. Lips soft and hungry. He kisses like he means it, like every second is precious, like he’s scared it’s going to be the last. And when your hand dips between his legs?

He gasps. Full-bodied, shaky. “Fucking Christ,” he chokes out, hips twitching. His cock’s already hard, hot against your palm. Not huge, not small—just right, pretty even. Cut, flushed pink at the tip, thick enough to make you feel it stretch you, but not enough to overwhelm. There’s a vein down the side that pulses when you stroke him, and he watches you like he’s watching God.

“Oh my god—yeah, okay, that’s—fuck, shit, sorry,” he mutters, hips jerking forward. “That—feels better than, like—anything. Ever. I don’t—am I supposed to do something with my hands or—?”

You laugh, and he blushes so hard his ears turn red. “You’re good, Carm. You’re doing fine. Let our bodies do the talking.”

He groans like that line alone nearly finishes him off. “Ohhh—fuck, no, don’t say shit like that—”

You guide him inside you, and for a second, everything stops. His breath catches. Eyes wide. Muscles tense like he’s bracing for something catastrophic, like maybe he’s about to cry or come or die. “Holy fuck,” he whispers. “Are you sure—are you okay—do I need to slow down?”

You just nod, and he lets out this broken little sound. Kind of a moan, kind of a whimper, and so sincere it nearly undoes you.

At first, he’s awkward. Bumping the wrong angle. Hips moving in tiny, unsure thrusts like he’s terrified to go too deep. Keeps checking your face like he’s looking for notes. “That—no, sorry—was that weird? I can stop. I’ll stop. Shit. I—uh—yeah.” You kiss him again, thread your fingers through his hair, and roll your hips until he’s buried deep and shaking.

When you get on top, his brain shorts out. Full-on blue screen. His hands fly to your waist like instinct, but his mouth is stuck on a loop. “Yeah. Fuck. Okay. Yeah. You’re so—holy shit, you’re—beautiful, baby, fuck, shit—” His voice goes high when you clench around him, like a whine caught in his throat. His hips twitch like they want to buck up but he’s scared to move, too scared to end it too soon.

And he does come too fast. Not in a tragic way—just in that achingly human, overwhelmed way that makes you want to kiss every inch of him. His hands tremble on your thighs, face slack with pleasure, mouth open as he gasps out, “I—I think I’m gonna—fuck—fuck, fuck, f—ohhh—shit—” and then he’s done, shaking under you, pressing his face into your neck like he’s trying to disappear.

“Sorry,” he whispers after. “I—I swear I can go again. Like. Soon. Just—holy shit.”

And he does go again. He’s hard again in less than ten minutes, and the second time’s better. He starts to find rhythm, his hands more confident, his mouth bolder. He talks more, too—low, raspy praise between panting breaths. “You’re so fucking soft, baby, you’re perfect, so wet, so good for me—” He latches onto your tits like he’s been dreaming about them for years. He sucks and mouths at them like a man starved, eyes glazed and reverent.

“I’ve got a thing,” he confesses, voice rough. “With—y’know. Tits. Just—fuck. They’re amazing. You’re amazing.”

You ride him through it. Take control. And he loves it. Because it lets him feel without the pressure to perform. He’s sensitive, vocal—little gasps and sighs spilling out with every grind of your hips. When you tell him not to talk, just to feel, he moans so sharply it echoes. His whole body tightens, stomach clenching, hands white-knuckling the sheets.

“Ohhh, fuck—don’t say that—fuck, I’m gonna—” he whines, high and airy, and then he’s coming again, teeth sunk into your shoulder to muffle it, cock pulsing deep inside you. His thighs twitch. You feel his whole body flutter under you, coming undone again.

After, he holds you. Silent. Breath slowing, chest rising against your back. Face nestled into your hair. And for once, there’s no chaos. No kitchen yelling. No fire alarms. Just the sound of your heartbeat under his cheek and the soft hum of the city outside his window.

You trace his jaw, and he mumbles, “I was so bad at that, huh.”

“You were perfect, Carm.”

He sighs, a sleepy little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? Okay. Good. ‘Cause I—uh. Wanna do that again. With you. Like, a lot.”

And he means it. Every stammered word.

[esmedelacroix]

Party Animal

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse,

fic radio ! party 4 u by Charli xcx

You sat in front of your vanity, some random music was blaring from a speaker, and Suguru and Shoko were pre-gaming and getting you ready for the first party they successfully dragged you to.

You stared at yourself, wondering if this was all a good idea. You suddenly felt large, cold hands on your exposed shoulders. "You look cute," Suguru complimented, smiling at you through the mirror.

"Thanks," you replied, looking up at him. "Your breath stinks."

He chuckled and grabbed a mint from your desk that you kept solely for him and Shoko. Somehow, Suguru convinced you to take two shots before all three of you walked to the Kappa Phi Epsilon house. Most of the football players were in the same frat. This one always threw the craziest parties. They only ever ended if the cops stopped it. "Who the fuck are you," Aoi Todo spat. "Name three brothers," he demanded as he sized you up.

"Enough, Todo, they're with me," Gojo said in a warning tone.

Gojo led you through the crowd, introducing you to the football guys. Some of them already knew you. You had a couple of classes with Choso Kamo, and his younger brother, Yuji, was well known because of how good he was at football as a rookie.

"Where's Ryomen?" you tried to ask in the most casual way possible. Gojo pretended not to catch on.

"Oh, Ryo doesn't really come to these functions. Just stays in his room. Or he just flat out leaves the house after seeing who's here," he explained.

"I can let him know you're here," Satoru offered.

"Let who know she's here?" Sukuna asked, appearing behind them.

"No one," Satoru lied, "Yuji, get down from there!" he exclaimed before running off.

"Hey," you greeted, unable to stop the stupid smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

"You came," he stated.

"How dirty," you quipped. He chuckled showing teeth.

"I don't usually see you at these parties," he pointed out as he poured two Vodka Lemonades. He could barely make out what he was pouring with the electronic lighting and the disorganized sea of alcoholic drinks, mixers, and chasers on the kitchen island.

"They're not really my scene. But you won your big game today, so I thought I'd pop out," you admitted.

"You usually don't come to those either," he said, handing you a dubious drink in a red Solo cup.

"Are you trying to roofie me?" you questioned before bringing the cup to your lips. He rolled his eyes and downed his drink. To your surprise it tased okay.

Just when he was about to joke back, you were pulled towards the livingroomdance floor by Shoko. "I'm gonna steal her away for a second!" she called out to Sukuna.

His piercing gaze followed your movements on the dance floor. You went from feigning annoyance to dancing in a matter of seconds. You and Shoko were in your own worlds. Not even aware of the subtle attention you were attracting. You were wearing dark-wash jeans and a black lacy “going-out top.” So basically the same thing every other girl was wearing. But for some reason it looked different on you and you were all Sukuna could focus on.

How could he be annoyed by Todo making advances on you? You painted your lips the perfect flushed shade. They were begging to be kissed as always.

Your hair looked amazing. How could Todo not feel inclined to offer you another drink? It's what Sukuna would've done. Just for the chance to spark another conversation with you. To see you looking up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. He eyes tracked Todo’s lips slightly brushing your ear as he whispered something in your ear handing you a beer. He noticed the way you squirmed and giggle as the hot air touched your ear.

Sukuna couldn't blame Todo for spinning you around and dancing with you. For shamelessly checking you out the way he often did. You were perfection personified. Rich, beautiful, respectable, with a killer personality.

If he could peel back your skin and feast on the fruits of your insides until it made him somewhat on the same level as you, he would, without a second thought.

He felt like the universe was being cruel to him. The only reason why he stayed for the party was because you were here. But there you were, swaying your hips to the beat of a song with another guy. As much as he hated to admit it, you made Ryomen nervous.

"You gonna keep bein' a creep or are you gonna ask her to dance with you instead?" Toji grinned, handing Ryo a beer.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, staying quiet. He finished off his chilled beer and turned back to the dance floor, where you were nowhere to be found.

His eyes scanned the room, but he couldn't find you. He pushed past a group of drunk freshman he had to kick out and couples shoving their tongues down each other's throats. So much time had passed looking for you when he finally made his way down to the basement you were nearly shit-faced and knee deep in a game of truth or drink.

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru spotted Sukuna descending the stairs and smirked. "Smash or pass, Ryo," he purred. There was a flurry of smashes, passes, and shots being taken amongst the group.

"Smash," Gojo slurred, half-joking.

"C'mon, are you gonna drink?" Shoko whined as the whole group turned to hear your answer.

"Sma-" you started before vomiting all the contents of your stomach on the ground. The group winced and got up. Sukuna appeared from the shadows of the stairs, helping you up.

"Some friends you are, letting her drink past her limit," he muttered under his breath before putting a big hand around your waist and helping you up the stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" you hiccupped as he helped you up more steps to the rooms. He didn't answer.

Your eyes were barely opened, but you could tell you were entering a bedroom. It was dimly lit, and you were placed on a bed. You lay down on it and got comfortable.

You could hear Sukuna opening drawers in the background. "Is this how you usually get women in your room? Look for the drunkest ones?" you asked in a small voice.

"No?" he answered in disbelief.

"How many women have you had on this bed?" you asked.

"Just one."

"Who?"

"You."

You shot up in surprise. "Don't get up to quic-" he started before pausing as you vomitted all over yourself and his sheets.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered.

"Come here," he sighed as he took your wrist in his hand, guiding you to his bathroom by the small of your back. Thankfully, it was connected to his room, so he didn't have to worry about the couple he could hear having a fight right outside of his door.

He brought you to kneel before the toilet. Sukuna held your hair back as you 'let it rip' as he said. He then wet a towel with warm water and handed it to you. You brought it to your mouth as he briefly left the bathroom, trudging back in with a colossal T-shirt and PJ pants.

He left the room to change his soiled sheets as you wiped yourself clean. Despite having to fold the pants over eighty times and tighten the drawstring, his clothes fit you so nicely. They were large, but comfortable.

Sukuna could barely look at you in his clothes without getting flushed. He left the room to clean your mess that sat in the basement, which had been completely evacuated soon afterward.

"Hey, where's my friend?" Shoko asked, tapping his shoulder as he threw out dirty paper towels.

"She's recovering in my room," he answered.

"Alright, Suguru and I are going to head out," she answered, patting his shoulder.

"Nonfunny business," Suguru almost warned, grasping Sukuna's shoulder as he walked past him and led Shoko out of the party. Sure, he wasn't nearly as buff as Sukuna, but he was slightly taller than him. With his personality adding about three more inches, he was pretty intimidating in that moment.

When Sukuna walked back up to his room with a bottle of water and medicine in hand, you were spread out on the bed with the sheets and comforter in disarray. You had also somehow kicked the PJ pants off in your sleep(you were a sleep stripper, you couldn't help it). He placed the things on the nightstand and grabbed a pillow before leaving the room.

Somehow, there were still people downstairs, but Sukuna simply ignored them. He opened Gojo's door to find him surprisingly not doing anything weird, but his usual activity, playing "Hello Kitty Island Adventure."

"Yo," Satoru called out, eyes glued on the Sanrio characters dancing around his screen.

Sukuna stayed silent and stood at the doorway with his pillow in hand(Looking too cute). Gojo's head turned, but his eyes stayed on the screen for a moment. After peeling his eyes off his screen, he saw the big, hulking Sukuna standing in the doorway with a pillow in hand.

"Ryo, is someone hooking up in your room again?" he asked in disgust.

"Nah, _____ is sleeping in there," he answered.

"Oh, well, I have someone coming over, so you can't sleep in here," he lied.

"Bruh, it's two in the morning," Sukuna deadpanned, before leaving.

He walked back into his room. Somehow, you completely changed positions, and you were now on one side of the bed. I'm going to have to make this work, he thought to himself, seeing that your bra was now on the ground. You lay in just your panties and his shirt now. He tried not to look at your soft, exposed bits of skin, tucking you in and taking the side of the bed you weren't occupying.

His weight made the mattress depress a bit as he settled next to you, sleeping in his boxers. This would be odd to explain to you in the morning.

. . .

-> next part

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[karikarasuno]

part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen

making law blush is a difficult task. he doesn't blush. it's not his thing. it's never been his thing. he expects most things, so catching him off guard is quite the task. yet you try and try. often times failing. but there have been a few occasions where his cheeks have burned. where he's looked in the mirror and saw an unfamiliar stain of red creeping across his cheeks.

the first time it happened was when you drunkenly stripped for him. it was cute at first. the way you tugged sloppily at your own clothes. he didn't think you would actually be able to pull off your top after your arm caught in the sleeve. he laughed. but his laughter died quickly when you finally tugged the fabric over your head and revealed a red lacy bra. law has never been the biggest fan of red. until you kicked off your pants. matching underwear. red. somehow and suddenly red became law's favorite color.

that was until he looked in the mirror after tucking you in and faced himself. the red on his cheeks matched the red that adorned your body.

the second time was at cora's apartment. it was his turn to host family dinner. you were obviously invited. your attendance was actually a requirement per cora's insistence. he said having you around made law less irritable. law didn't agree, but he extended the invitation anyway.

you were just about to sit down beside him after having gotten up for a third time because you forgot to grab a napkin. but before you sat down at the table where his entire family was already seated you grabbed his jaw and lightly, casually said "you have something on your face."

law felt his nose scrunch up in distaste. "what is it?"

and instead of answering you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "a kiss, but i got it for you."

law's mom giggled. he heard it but he had a hard time registering it. not with the loud, overwhelming sound of blood rushing to his cheeks. you smiled to yourself. satisfied. smug. meanwhile law's mind buffered. he felt dumb. and law was far from dumb.

but this time. his blush is a slow burn. one that stemmed from annoyance more than anything else. it's your lotion. you bought it over the weekend when you went shopping with the girls. it's an unassuming bottle. one that he thought was normal until he saw you apply it under the bright lights of the bathroom.

"why are you shimmering?" he says, eyes tracking the way your hand massages the lotion into your shoulder.

"huh?" you're watching a video on your phone, so you use your knuckle to pause it before turning your undivided attention to him.

"your skin," he says slowly, "there's glitter on it."

"oh yeah! isn't it fun?" you twist your arms to watch as the light catches your glittery skin. law doesn't know about fun. what law sees is a problem. especially if that glitter likes to transfer.

and it does. everywhere. the first time he notices it on his black tshirt. he stepped outside to grab the mail and when he looked down he realized he too was shimmering. it's on the pillowcases. the sheets. the blanket you use on the couch. just fucking everywhere.

"do you have to use that lotion every night?" he asks one evening before bed as he watches you apply it to your legs.

"yes, my love, i do. makes me feel pretty," you respond, placing your foot on his thigh as you massage the moisture into your calf.

"i promise, you're equally as pretty without it." he's staring at the way your hands follow the curve of your legs. trailing your fingers from your ankle to your knee. you know how easy he is to distract. but he won't fall for it this time. not when he's seriously concerned with the fact that he might be ingesting the stupid glitter.

“oh don’t be a grouch,” you laugh, swapping one leg for the other. “it just makes me feel girly and sexy.”

“you’re always sexy,” he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. he feels the way your muscle twitches beneath his lips.

“you’re never not sexy,” he continues, trailing two more kisses up your thigh.

“stop trying to butter me up,” you complain breathily. your hands have already found his shoulders and if you really meant what you said you’d push him away. but the closer he gets to your center the more you open up to him.

“come here,” he groans when his nose nuzzles your crotch. and in an instant law is on his back and you’re sitting on his face. he doesn’t bother removing your underwear. doesn’t push them to the side either. he flattens his tongue against the fabric that covers you. and he licks until your hips twitch in his grip.

you grind against his tongue when it meets your clit, pressing down harder for the sake of friction. he groans and it’s starts in his chest. gets caught in his throat when he begins to taste you through your panties. the cotton is sticking to you, molding against the contours of your lips.

“you gonna keep teasing me or are you gonna do something?” you look down at him, eyes locking where he’s caught between your thighs. and this is a view he enjoys. he indulges in.

he slips a finger into the side of your underwear and pulls the wet fabric away from your cunt. his fingers barely graze you and you flinch from sensitivity.

“and what do you suppose i do?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes up at you. and he knows after all this time that the back and forth turns you on. you ask him not to tease you, but every time he does you’re wetter than before. his knuckle traces your slit. slow. agonizing.

“you could move my stupid underwear out of the way,” you rise slightly onto your knees, “and kiss me.”

his tongue drags along his lower lip. “ask me nicely.”

“will you kiss me?” you ask and he hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls it out of the way. fully exposing you to him. and he’s dying to tilt his head up and taste you. dying to lick into you. but he doesn’t.

not until you “say please.”

“law,” you laugh incredulously because he never makes you beg. it’s not really something he needs to hear. but tonight it’s what he wants. and he wants you to give it to him.

“come on, pretty,” he breathes, kissing the crease right beside your cunt. “say it for me.”

you tense up above him. and your chest is rising heavily with each breath you take. your nipples hard and poking the fabric of his t-shirt. your favorite one to wear to bed.

“will you please kiss me?” your voice pitches up when you ask. dripping with need. with desperation. “please, baby, please kiss me.”

there’s no restraint left in him. no urge to tease or delay. his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks it into his mouth. you cry out when he flicks his tongue against it. whine when his lips leave your clit and he drags his tongue to your entrance. your upper body tilts forward. your hand jumps out to grasp the headboard and the other cards through his hair.

you tug on him when his tongue slips inside of you. he moans at the pressure it applies to his scalp. he can’t help it. you only hurt him when you feel good. when you can’t control how good he’s making you feel.

law’s dick leaks where it’s caught in his sweatpants and his hand moves to grip himself without thought.

“ah, that’s it,” you moan when he flattens his tongue so you can ride him. your hips roll with urgency against his face. and he matches your motions every time he strokes his cock. faster when you grind harder. slower when your hips draw back.

it’s hard for him to watch you the way he wants when his eyes keep closing from the pleasure of being used by you. so unashamed. without care.

“need you to come,” he mumbles into your pussy. his other hand manages to slip beneath your thighs, two fingers parting your folds so he can focus on you. feel you better as you rut into his mouth.

“keep doing that and i will,” you respond. and there’s a pleasant amusement in your voice. one that sends tingles down his spine and he shoves his hand in his pants, fisting his cock as he you work yourself to orgasm on his face. thighs straddling his cheeks and muffling your noises from his ears.

and when you come, the sounds are distant. your moans are playing right above him but all he can focus on is the way your entire body seizes over his head. how your fingers tighten in his hair. and when the pain blossoms across his scalp, he finishes in the palm of his hand. it shocks him. the strength of his orgasm. it catches him off guard.

you body finally relaxes as you sit on his chest. his own endorphins are still wracking through him. his abs tense once more and the feeling of a cramp erupts in his side.

“shit, get off,” he hisses, slapping the side of your thigh. when you’re off he rolls onto his side, his free and clean hand massaging at the space below his ribcage.

he feels your eyes drag down his body and when he looks at you, you’re grinning. flushed and delirious. “did you get a cramp after you came?”

he glances down to the mess in his other hand. and his head falls back onto the mattress. “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

you laugh. freely. joyfully. without shame. and when law’s no longer in pain. he laughs along side you. kisses you. touches you all over again.

the next morning law is so satiated he doesn’t remember the glitter. he doesn’t give a shit about the glitter. he doesn’t even notice the glitter on his neck and cheek until he’s at work and changing into a fresh set of scrubs in the bathroom. the bathroom light is harsh, but when he shifts in front of the mirror he sees the the way it shimmers across his skin. and funnily enough, instead of the annoyance he expects to feel, his dick hardens. and a blush, real and true, erupts across his face.

[laursdomain]

don't let it break you down

pairing: bodhi durran x fem!marked!reader

genre: angst

synopsis: Being a carbon copy of Xaden Riorson is never easy. Bodhi Durran has learned to deal with it over the years, but there are times a push turns into a shove. He needs his solace and grounding, and you’re the only one who can provide that to him, proving to him that he is not lesser than his cousin.

warnings: cursing, overthinking, bodhi has very low self-worth, established relationship, takes place during FW, happy ending!!

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: song ➳ science by niall horan; here's day 2: mirror for bodhi week!!! @empyreanevents

ྀིb.d week masterlist

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Being a child of the rebellion was hard. Bodhi Durran knew that all too well. He never thought something would be even harder, yet Professor Carr proves him wrong every fucking day. He didn’t care about the shouts he heard from Carr as he stomped out of the room. He didn’t care that he had made a scene, probably embarrassing his squad. And he most certainly didn’t care that Imogen would most likely tell his cousin.

“Very well, Cadet Durran! Keep training, and you’ll be just like your cousin.” Professor Carr’s voice fills his head, making him even angrier, if that was even possible.

are you numb? can you touch?

If there was one thing Bodhi hated most in this venin-filled world, it was being compared to his cousin. He was abundantly aware that he looked just like him, and everyone expected him to be just as great as Xaden. He hated it, because he knew how lesser he was in comparison to Xaden–and even to Garrick. He hated feeling lesser than them, and he hated when people pointed it out. The poisonous thoughts swimmed in his head, like a parasite, refusing to leave. He’s not even focusing on where he is going, but he knows his legs are taking him to the room he shares with you, the only place in Basgiath that isn’t Xaden’s. He knew you’d come find him after class, and he couldn’t wait. You were his solace.

Bodhi hadn’t realized that you followed him out of the classroom, also ignoring the way Carr yelled after you. You know if the roles were reversed, Bodhi would do the same. You also couldn’t help but wonder what Carr could’ve said to enrage Bodhi. He hadn’t heard, but Imogen did. The look she gave you was enough to make you concerned, and you had an inkling of what it could’ve been about.

Your shorter legs were no match for Bodhi’s long legs, who seemed to be on a mission to get to the solace of your room. It wasn’t until he went to close the door that he realized you had followed him, wordlessly sidestepping to let you in before closing the door behind you. You watch as Bodhi paces the length of your room, deeply lost in his thoughts. You knew you’d have to pull him out of it eventually, to make him sit down with you and tell you what’s bothering him.

You step forward, taking his hands in your own, forcing him to stop pacing. He doesn’t meet your eyes, hands keeping a vice-like grip on your own. He hasn’t stopped tensing since he left the classroom, and that worried you.

“Bodhi,” you softly speak, almost as if you’re speaking to a scared child. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” He reiterates, scoffing. “Professor Carr is what’s wrong.”

You playfully roll your eyes, a weak attempt to untense him. It doesn’t work. “Professor Carr is always like this. Trying to get under everyone’s skin. What did he say?”

oh, when you feel you're sinking, overthinking

Bodhi hesitates, gaze fixated on the floor. He knew you’d never judge him, you two have been through everything together. From watching your parents die because of their involvement with the rebellion to surviving the quadrant together, you understand everything that goes on inside his mind. Though, the overthinking nature of his planted poisonous thoughts in his head make him hesitate. Would you really understand? Is he just overreacting? 

“Bodhi,” you speak more sternly, pulling him out of his thoughts again. The look in your eyes is enough to ease his thoughts, willing him to tell you the truth.

Bodhi clenches his jaw before speaking, “Carr told me that after more training, I’ll be just like Xaden.”

His words squeezed your heart, an empathetic look written on your face. You were aware of Bodhi’s struggles with separating himself from Xaden, especially when they were nearly identical. To most people, it was hard to separate the two. But for you, it was incredibly easy. If you really paid attention to Bodhi, you’d notice the little things that make him very different to Xaden Riorson.

so, when you feel there's nothin' left

Your hands leave his hands, sliding up to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “You are Bodhi Durran, there’s nothing that’ll make you him. You are your own person, just like Xaden is his own self.”

He nods, but you could tell he was having a hard time believing your words. It didn’t help that he was always seen as Xaden’s shadow, his backup, as Garrick joked one day. That resulted in Bodhi not speaking to Garrick for a couple of days. You practically yelled at the older boy, before realizing your place.

Your hands find Bodhi’s again, the way his body loosens at the action doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You walk backwards, leading him towards your bed as you two sit down. You fold one of your legs under the other, facing him to give him the space to speak his mind. 

“It’s just,” Bodhi wasn’t scared of speaking the words to you. Confiding in you has always been easy, and he was eternally grateful that you loved him to the point that you’d listen for hours, not speaking until he was done. “I’m so sick of being seen as the lesser version of him. It’s not my fault I’m not as great as him.”

Typically you’d stay silent until he’s done, but you find yourself furrowing your brows. “You are just as great as him, Bodhi. You aren’t lesser than him.”

He gives you a look, not believing your words. “He is the shadow wielder of our generation, it’s not common like fire wielding or ice wielding.”

You raise a brow, “and countering signets is common? You have a classified signet patch, Bodhi. That’s enough to intimidate people of the power you hold. You can turn off any of our signets, including Xaden’s, by simply moving your wrist. You strip Xaden of his most powerful weapon in mere seconds.”

“I’d never use it on him,” he retorts.

“I know, but the fact still stands. You could.” Your gaze peers at him, though he still refuses to meet your eyes. You were used to this, he never liked to look at anyone when he was feeling vulnerable. 

“I’m not as strong as Xaden, he bests everyone in the quadrant.” 

“You may not be as strong, but he doesn’t beat everyone. Garrick has bested him multiple times, he’s our strongest fighter for a reason.” 

He opens his mouth to retort, then closes it when he realizes you have a point. Contradicting his insecurities seem to be working, his body slowly untensing from next to you. He’s no longer gripping your hands, he’s resorted to tracing your fingers, distracting himself as he confides in you.

oh, you've got nowhere left to run

“I could never handle all the responsibilities he bears.” Bodhi’s words hit you like a dragon, and you weren’t sure how to respond. 

Unfortunately, he had a point. None of the marked ones could do what Xaden has done for all of you. He took one hundred and seven scars for you all, taking responsibility for everyone. He risked everything by getting involved in the revolution. He does majority of the manufacturing of the alloy-hilted daggers and the supply runs for it. He gives so much to us, and the only thing we can truly give back is our allegiance. 

“None of us could,” you admit, shoulders slumping. “He’s made sacrifice after sacrifice for us.”

“Is it,” Bodhi begins, turning his head away. “Is it bad to have all these insecurities when he’s put himself on the line for us so many times?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s perfectly normal, especially considering how much you’re compared to him. I think I’d be going crazy if I was in your position.”

“Welcome to my world,” he mumbles, earning a light giggle from you. The sound of your laugh makes him slightly smile, and you consider that a win. “I’m not even as intimidating as he is.”

you can dance on your own, it's okay, 'cause you're not alone

“That’s a good thing, mo ghrá dhil. You’re more approachable and kinder. People are more likely to go to you for things than him. Consider that a win.” You watch the way Bodhi untenses and lightly blushes from the use of tyrrish, watching as he not-so-subtly scoots closer to you.

He smiles, slightly nodding his head in agreement. “Maybe you’re right.”

“There is an advantage to being seen as just like him,” you begin, watching as he furrows his brows at you. He urges you to continue, wondering where you’re going with this. You weren’t sure where you were going with it either, but the urge to make your boyfriend feel better overruled everything. “Every enemy will always be terrified of you because you are Xaden Riorson’s cousin, and look just like him.” You speak with dramatics, watching a smile tug at Bodhi’s lips. 

“That’s true,” he chuckles, bashfully smiling. “Thank you, a thaisce.”

“You’re welcome, mo ghrá dhil.” You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him in to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Once you pull away, he’s quick to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into one of his loving hugs. 

Unlike Xaden, Bodhi gives much better hugs, even if you’ve never gotten a hug from Xaden.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[the-boy-ismine]

midnight desires, feat. skz hyung line!

tw : sub hyung line (separate) x dom amab reader (& twt porn links fitting each scenario). hard thoughtttttt because i have no genuine motivation for an actual drabble/fic. reader is kind of a jerk (like genuinely mean), feminization kink (use of pussy, cunt, tits, 'good girl'; chan), nipple play (chan receiving), breeding/fertility kink (chan wants to get knocked up), name calling ('slut'; chan & minho), risky setting (practice room ... woah is that a drabble reference??; minho), exhibitionism (minho, changbin & hyunjin), spit as lube (minho), light degradation (minho), name calling ('fuckdoll', 'toy'; minho), hair pulling (minho), minor d/s dynamics (minho), power play (changbin), size/power difference (changbin), slight degradation (changbin), minor humiliation (changbin), name calling ('bitch', 'cumdump'; changbin), minor overstimulation (changbin), mirror play (hyunjin), prettiness kink (you degrade and praise him for how pretty he looks taking dick; hyunjin), semi-public setting (doing allat in the backstage dressing room; hyunjin), name calling ('whore', 'cumdump', 'slut'; hyunjin), minors, ageless, & fem blogs dni 🪽 !!

BANGCHAN & riding/cowgirl.

You barely had time to lock the door before Chan was tugging you onto the bed, shirt half-off, hair a mess from his fingers fisting it in frustration. He’d been insufferable all day—flushed every time you so much as glanced at his chest, legs rubbing together under the studio desk. You knew the signs. He was in one of those moods again.

Now he was straddling your lap, pretty thighs caging you in, your cock already aching against his rim. “You’ve been teasing me all fucking day, Chan.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he gasped, breathless and already grinding his hips against your length. “You’re the one who keeps staring at my tits like they’re yours to touch.”

“Oh? You mean these?” You brought your hands up to his chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples through the sheer tank top he hadn’t bothered to take off. They were already swollen, begging for attention, and the way his breath hitched when you circled them slowly had your cock twitching.

“You wear slutty little things like this and expect me to behave?” you teased, flicking one nipple with your tongue before sucking hard, earning a high-pitched moan. “You wanna be bred like a good girl, don’t you?”

Chan whimpered, rutting down harder against your cock, spreading himself open with a slick squelch as the lube you’d applied earlier clung to both of you. “Yes—fuck—yes, please hyung.”

His voice cracked on the last word, need overtaking whatever was left of his dignity. You lined your cock up, watching his hole twitch with anticipation before you gripped his hips and pulled him down—slow, thick, stretching. He cried out, legs shaking as the head popped inside, his back arching beautifully.

“So needy,” you muttered, letting him sink down inch by inch, both of you groaning at how tight and hot he felt. “You think you deserve to be filled, slut?”

“I-I do,” he gasped, nails digging into your shoulders as he bottomed out, body trembling in your lap. “I’ve been good—been waiting all week—hyung please, fuck me like you wanna knock me up.”

You almost lost it right there.

Gripping his hips, you started guiding him into a steady rhythm, watching his pretty chest bounce with every movement. His nipples peeked through the tank, damp from your tongue, and you couldn’t help but mouth at them again—biting, licking, sucking.

“You’d take it, wouldn’t you?” you growled into his chest, hips snapping up as he bounced harder, sweat dripping from his temples. “Let me fuck a baby into you. Get that bratty little cunt bred full—”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Chan sobbed, riding you with reckless abandon now, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. “Wanna be full—wanna be yours—please, hyung, make me yours—”

His cock bounced untouched between you, leaking thick strings of precum with every thrust. You brought your mouth to his again, silencing his moans with a kiss, all tongue and teeth while your hands slid up his back and grabbed two full handfuls of ass.

“Take it,” you growled into his mouth, burying your cock deeper, faster. “Take every drop like a fucking good girl.”

That’s what did it.

Chan’s legs locked tight around you, his body convulsing as his cock shot hot, sticky cum all over both your stomachs, staining the tight fabric of his tank top. His hole clenched hard around you, milking your cock as you gritted your teeth and slammed up one more time—

And came.

Your hips stuttered violently as thick ropes of cum filled him, his body jerking with each pulse, his head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream.

You watched as it leaked back out around your cock, dripping down onto your thighs. His body collapsed forward, still twitching, his ruined tank top clinging to his chest, soaked in sweat and cum.

MINHO & bent over a surface/table.

Minho stretched in front of the mirror, arms above his head, a thin sheen of sweat glistening along his collarbones. His black compression shorts clung so tight it was obscene—high on his thighs, hugging the swell of his ass, the outline of his cock faint but impossible to ignore. He caught your eyes in the reflection and smirked.

“You’ve been staring since warm-ups, hyung,” he said lazily, rolling his shoulders.

You didn’t bother denying it. Minho had a way of making himself the center of gravity in any room—confident, smug, dripping with appeal—and the tightness of those shorts had you dangerously close to snapping since he first stepped in.

As he crossed the studio to grab his water bottle from the table, he didn’t bend naturally. He presented, ass jutting out just enough to be deliberate. When you didn’t move right away, he peeked over his shoulder and gave a soft, knowing pout.

“Well? You gonna keep looking or do something about it?”

That was all the invitation you needed.

You crossed the room in two strides, grabbing his hips and grinding your already half-hard cock against the heat of him. He gasped softly, hands bracing against the tabletop. You didn’t waste time—hooked your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and dragged them down, revealing smooth skin, tight muscle, and a twitching, needy hole just barely hidden between his cheeks.

“Fucking slut,” you muttered, voice low as your fingers parted him. “Walking around the studio dressed like this? You wanted me to fuck you.”

Minho shivered. “Maybe I like the idea of getting caught,” he whispered.

That made you growl. With no time for prep, you spit between his cheeks, letting it run down his hole while he whimpered and pushed his hips back into you. Your cock twitched against the fabric of your sweats.

You lined up with him, spit barely enough to ease the slide, but Minho was already trembling in anticipation.

“Keep your hands on the table,” you ordered, grabbing his hips and driving your cock into him in one slow, brutal push.

“Ah—fuck!” he hissed, back arching beautifully as you bottomed out. His hole clenched around you, tight and slick with spit and sweat. You barely gave him time to adjust before you pulled back and slammed in again, hard enough to jolt the table forward.

Minho moaned loud—too loud.

“Keep it down,” you hissed, hand shooting out to cover his mouth as you fucked him deeper. “You want the boys to hear how slutty you sound when you get dicked down?”

He nodded under your hand, muffled whines slipping between your fingers. His eyes rolled back when you angled your hips just right, slamming directly into his prostate. His knees buckled, body folding over the table as you leaned into him fully.

“Look at you,” you panted into his ear. “Bent over like a fuckdoll. Dripping down your thighs already, Minho.”

He gasped when you slid a hand around to stroke his leaking cock—thick, flushed red, twitching in your grip. “You like being my little toy? Let me use you where anyone could walk in?”

“Yes, hyung,” he whispered. “I—fuck—I need it.”

Your rhythm grew rougher, faster. The slap of skin echoed in the studio, your balls slapping against his ass while the table rocked under your thrusts. You pulled his hair back, forcing him to arch up so you could watch his face in the mirror—sweaty, lips parted, eyes glassy with lust.

“Such a dirty little hole,” you snarled, fucking him harder. “Tight as hell and sucking me in like you were made for this.”

Minho trembled violently, whimpering as his cock pulsed between your fingers.

“Cum, Minho. Do it. Make a mess all over the fucking table.”

He did.

With a soft, choked cry, Minho came in thick spurts across the tabletop, his entire body shaking as his walls clamped down around you. The squeeze was too much. You groaned, slamming in one final time, burying yourself to the hilt as you spilled inside him—deep, hot, and heavy.

You didn’t pull out. Just stood there, panting against his spine, cock still twitching inside his overstimulated hole. The room was silent save for the sound of your breath and the soft drip of cum on the studio floor.

Minho’s legs were barely holding him up, his forehead pressed to the table, hair damp with sweat.

The door never opened.

But you almost wished it had.

CHANGBIN & full nelson.

“Hyung, someone might hear—”

“You think I care?” you growled, arms locking tighter under Changbin’s knees, folding his thick thighs up to his chest. “You were begging to get fucked. Now take it.”

His back arched off the mattress, hands fisting the sheets as your cock split him open again and again, thrusts deep and ruthless. Completely vulnerable—his entire body bent and suspended off the bed by your strength alone. His hole clenched with every slam, sloppy and stretched, already shiny with your spit and his slick.

“Ah—ah fuck!” Changbin cried out, voice cracking. “It’s too deep—feels too—ngh!”

You didn’t let up. The bed creaked under your weight, headboard knocking against the wall in rhythm with your thrusts. Anyone in the next room over could hear it—the moans, the slap of skin, the wet sound of your cock dragging through his greedy hole—and that made it hotter.

“You said you could take it,” you growled into his ear, biting the shell harshly. “What happened to my big bad boy, huh? Cryin’ like a bitch now just ‘cause your little hole’s full?”

Changbin keened under you, face flushed scarlet, mouth open in a broken moan as drool spilled from the corner of his lips. His muscles were trembling—thick thighs twitching every time you slammed into him, his cock twitching untouched against his stomach.

“L-love it,” he gasped out, writhing in your grip. “Feels s’fucking good, hyung—fuck, more, gimme more!”

“Yeah? Want more of this dick?” You drove into him harder, letting the weight of your body bear down on his smaller frame. “Greedy fucking hole’s not even satisfied yet?”

His head lolled back, eyes glassy, and he babbled without thinking—filthy, desperate.

“C-cock’s too good, makes me so dumb—hyung, please, I wanna cum—I wanna—nghh!”

You laughed low in your throat, keeping his legs pinned up high while you reached down to stroke his cock roughly. It was drooling thick, sticky precum all over your stomach.

“God, look at you. What would your fans say if they saw you like this? All folded up and stuffed, begging to get ruined.”

He sobbed under you, thrusting his hips weakly to meet every punishing stroke.

“You wanna cum that bad?” you teased, cockhead grinding right against his prostate. “Then do it. Be my good little cumdump. Show me how stupid this dick makes you.”

“F-Fuck—hyung—!” Changbin’s voice cracked as his body spasmed violently. His cock erupted in thick white spurts, painting both of your chests, his own stomach, and your hand. His walls clamped around you like a vice, milking your cock as he trembled through his high.

“Shit,” you hissed, losing control as you buried yourself in deep and came with a groan, spilling rope after rope of cum inside him. His overstimulated hole fluttered around you, sucking every drop in greedily like it needed to be filled.

You held him there for a moment—bent in half, breathless, twitching around your cock. His hands were limp now, barely able to grip the sheets. His thighs trembled, still stretched wide, cum dripping from his hole down to the bed in messy white streaks.

The bed was soaked. The room stank of sex. And somewhere through the thin walls, someone thudded the side of their wall in protest.

“Good,” you muttered, kissing Changbin’s cheek before slowly letting his legs down. “Let them fucking hear how good you take it.”

HYUNJIN & bent over a surface/vanity.

“Hyung, not here—someone could walk in,” Hyunjin hissed, but he didn’t stop you. His hands clutched the edge of the vanity as you kicked his legs apart wider behind him, dragging your cock slowly against the tight, fluttering ring of his hole.

The full-length mirror in front of you both reflected everything: Hyunjin’s flushed face, the deep curve of his spine, the faint sweat clinging to his chest and collarbones—and most of all, the way your thick cock teased at his stretched-out entrance, already twitching from the first rough round you’d given him minutes ago.

“You said you wanted a break from rehearsal,” you muttered against his neck, kissing the flushed skin just below his ear. “So shut up and take your cock like the little mirror whore you are.”

A shaky moan left his lips, and he tried not to look up at the mirror, but you grabbed a fistful of his long hair and forced his head up.

“Keep your eyes open,” you growled. “Watch yourself get fucked stupid.”

The first thrust punched the air from his lungs.

“A-Ah fuck!” Hyunjin gasped, watching his own mouth fall open in the mirror, lips glossy from panting. “S-so deep—!”

You didn't give him time to adjust. You bottomed out fully, then began hammering into him with long, brutal strokes—his plush ass clapping back against your hips with every thrust. You made sure he watched as your cock disappeared into him again and again, his pretty, stretched hole swallowing it greedily.

“Look at you,” you snarled, reaching forward to grab his chin and hold it still. “Blushing, drooling, taking cock like it’s your job. You see how desperate you look, Hyunjin? That’s what people would see if they walked in.”

“F-fuck—please, don’t say that,” he whimpered, but his hips kept pushing back. His cock, untouched, slapped against the vanity beneath him—leaking precum over scattered makeup brushes and rehearsal notes.

“You’d love it, wouldn’t you?” you taunted. “Getting caught like this. Bent over and begging. They’d see just how pretty you are when you’re getting ruined.”

Hyunjin sobbed, the kind that sounded too close to a moan. You moved one hand down to grip his waist and pull him onto your cock with each thrust, angling perfectly to drag against his prostate. He shuddered violently.

“Look at your face, baby,” you whispered darkly, voice thick with arousal. “Such a slutty little thing. All pink in the cheeks, eyes rolling back—fuck, you're so fuckable like this.”

“Hyung, I—I’m gonna—!” he gasped, hands slipping on the vanity as his legs began to tremble. His body clenched up around you, the mirror fogging slightly with each pant from his lips.

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” you snapped, pulling out slowly just to slam back in, hard enough that his entire body jolted forward. “You don’t cum ‘til I say.”

“P-please, hyung—can’t hold it—feels too good—!”

You grinned wickedly, watching him unravel in the mirror. His thighs were shaking. His cock was leaking all over the counter. His moans had become breathless whines—high-pitched, desperate.

You reached down, finally grabbing his cock, stroking it fast and tight while pounding into him from behind.

“Then make a mess,” you growled. “Be the pretty little cumdump you love to be. Go on, show the mirror what your slut face looks like.”

He came with a choked-out cry, face contorted in bliss as he painted the vanity in thick, white ropes. His hole clenched hard around you, milking your cock until you hissed, hips jerking forward and spilling deep inside him, filling him up with load after load of hot, pulsing cum.

The mirror caught everything: his swollen lips, the tears clinging to his lashes, the obscene way your cum started to drip from between his thighs.

You pulled out slow, admiring the view of his wrecked body and glassy eyes.

“Now tell me,” you whispered into his ear, breath hot, “Don’t you look fucking perfect like this?”

a/n : i personally felt like i couldnt post this on my main account ...... anyways enjoy the pure filth i started at 11 pm & finally posted at 1 am while my brain short circuits 🎀.

[blasphemyandbackshots]

1. post mission tension - enemies to lovers < Katsuki Bakugo

you’re covered in blood, adrenaline still burning and your rival-turned-partner pushes you against a wall in the dark alleyway.

“you could’ve died back there.”

“so what?” no answer, just his mouth crashes into yours and he fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to.

2. the ‘fake dating’ hotel room < Izuku Midoriya

one bed, a mission, pretending to be lovers. he says it’s fine, that you can share. but that tension snaps at 2am when he whispers, “you keep pressing that sweet little ass into me, sweetheart. wanna tell me something?”

3. training gone wrong < Satoru Gojo

some sparring gets too intense. you’re pinned and he’s breathing heavy. “you giving up already?” he grinds and you glare. the tension breaks when his mouth is on your neck and you’re gasping, “fuck you.”

he grins. “gladly.”

4. caught touching yourself

you thought you were alone. your fingers buried deep in your pussy and whispering his name. he appears in the doorway, smirking. “you couldn’t wait for me?” now he makes you show him exactly what you were doing and finish while he watches.

5. chained together overnight

some sick villain’s curse and a pair of handcuffs. now you’re pressed together, limbs tangled and you’re soaking through your panties. of course he notices. “you really expect me not to do something about that?”

6. undercover seduction < Levi Ackerman

you’re playing the role of a high-end escort, he’s your client. your eyes locking and your roles blur. “gotta be convincing, right? but the way he fucks you in front of that one-way mirror? that’s not acting, that’s obsession.

7. public teasing at an event

an elegant dress, a plug inside you and his fingers around your throat as he whispers against your ear, “smile for everyone, baby. but if you come before we get home, I’ll ruin you in front of everyone.”

8. drunken confession turned fuckfest < Toji Fushiguro

he’s your best friend and you swore you’d never cross the line. he’s drunk and you’re tipsy. “you don’t get it, I’ve always wanted you.” and now you’re in his lap, moaning into his mouth, his voice hoarse with years of pent-up need.

9. heat of the moment - apocalypse < Aizawa

the world’s ending. you’re both hiding in a crumbling building. his hands find your waist, thighs, every place he can reach. “just once,” he says. “if this is the end let me have you.”

10. first time with a villain you shouldn’t love < Dabi

he’s the enemy, dangerous (maybe even a killer), but he saves you. and pulls you into his lap, “you’re not going back to them.” when you try to argue, he shuts you up with his cock and a growl, “I said you’re mine now.”

✎ rules:

I’ll write every scenario only once, as soon as the scenario is taken ill cross it out

✎ characters:

Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Suguru Geto, Sukuna

Shouta Aizawa, Katsuki Bakugo, Touya Todoroki (Dabi), Tomura Shigaraki

Itachi Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake

Levi Ackerman

✎ a/n: if you don’t see your fave feel free to ask if I would write a story for them. I can also write stories based on the sex headcanon lists ☺️

[dollbrbie]

HOW YOU MET DEALER!NAGI ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

꒰ dealer!nagi m.list ꒱

the first time you met dealer!nagi was at one of isagi’s frat parties, a red plastic cup in your hand and a flirty smile painted on your glossy lips, looking up at him with a glint nagi couldn’t quite make out.

he was way hotter than you thought he’d be when isagi mentioned him in conversation, your mind already plotting on him as soon as you saw him walk in with a nonchalance that was unusually attractive, the countless alcoholic drinks slipping past your lips.

but lucky for you, nagi felt the exact same. seeing you, your glossy lips and pretty eyes look up at him like that. you really know how to get a guy’s heart racing, he thinks.

and later on that night at the peak of the party, you found yourself propped up on a bathroom counter, your legs spread with your glossy folds on display as nagi licked up your slit with his eyes closed like he’d been transferred to heaven, looking back up at you through heavy lids with his stoned, red eyes.

it had your stomach swirling with butterflies, watching him teasingly lick your clit with a faint smirk while his hands knead on the plush of your thighs. he knew exactly what he was doing, and his high was giving him a type of confidence he didn’t usually have.

but you couldn’t help yourself from gently entwining you hand with his, a playful glint in your eye from the flowing conversation you and nagi had just been having before leading him to an empty bathroom at the party. but it’s not like nagi was complaining, not at all.

you feel your back arch as nagi’s tongue flicks on your clit, using his digits so scissor your entrance while curling them up at just the right angle, hitting that sweet spot of yours. the way your hands went to his hair, gently tugging while attempting to hold back your moans causes a groan to leave nagi’s lips - the vibrations making your hips buck.

you were close, your head falling back onto the bathroom mirror before muttering, “fuck.. m’close.”

he looks up at you, wide eyed while licking his bottom lip covered in your slick before replying, “i’ve got you, angel.”

his fingers curl faster, more rough as they abuse your sweet spot - your velvet walls fluttering as you feel that build up of hot white pleasure hit your core. he doesn’t leave his mouth unused, sucking and licking at your puffy clit with the overwhelming pleasure leaving your head empty of thoughts. you’ve never been fingered this good before.

it’s an instant when it comes, the pleasure hitting your body like a ton of bricks where you writhe and your hips buck. you fail miserably at holding back your moans, pretty and uneven whimpers falling from your lips that nagi can’t help but smirk at.

he looks up at you, watching your come down with a heavy chest before standing back up, placing his hands at the side of your hips before gently kissing your lips, “i wouldn’t mind doing that again sometime.”

you breathe out with a smile, “mhm, you want my number?”

he nods like an eager pup. there was no chance in hell nagi was every gonna say no to that, especially with that glow to your face after he’d just made you cum ridiculously hard.

he just wondered what he was about to do with the growing stain of his own cum on his pants now - looking down with a pout. he definitely enjoyed that a little too much.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work