#i can't afford to grind like this again

[cynical-cemeteries]

oh god i just thought of something

so if mu, rouin, and charles are supposed to be recruitable units and mu is the first one to become available

does that mean rouin and charles will have similar methods to mu?? are we gonna get two more 1,000 day contracts.

[honeyhotteoks]

always only you (c.sc)

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

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

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

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date. 

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

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

You just wish you never told Mingyu. 

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

Stupid. 

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

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

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

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

You do fast math, panic math. 

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

Your stomach churns. 

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

He’s gone before you can say thank you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks, “y/n,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red. 

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

“I know,” 

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

“I know,” You sigh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” You breathe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hand tightens on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” He sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

He grimaces, “Ugh,” 

“Exactly,” 

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

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

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

“You want to come up?” 

“If you don’t mind,”

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

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

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

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

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

“So,” He clears his throat lightly. 

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then he laughs again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “I remember,” 

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

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

“Mm,” You laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes flick over you and then he nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already. 

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

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

“God,” He shivers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” 

“And you wanted me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” You whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently. 

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

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

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

  “Can I eat you out?” 

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” You kiss him back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything you are is trembling in his hands. 

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

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

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

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open. 

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

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

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

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

He sighs, “This pussy,” 

“Cheol,” You blush hard. 

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

“Anything?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want him inside you so badly you could cry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your muscles clench down around his fingers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,” 

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n,” He pants tightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes slam shut. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

You laugh against him, “Next time?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” He sighs. 

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

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

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

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

Maybe you could rally. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go?” He asks. 

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

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

“You what,” You blink. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[stairain]

Desk Pet.

Despite knowing the importance of work, Spencer still can't help but distract you in the worst way possible.

Warnings: Sub Spencer, meanish reader, slight pet play (use of nickname puppy), grinding, leg humping, cumming in pants, begging. // Sorry for disappearing! It will happen again!

WC: 3.0K

You were sitting at your desk in your bedroom, intently staring at your computer screen as you tried to file through your work. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration and you were so deep in thought you didn’t even hear your boyfriend Spencer walk into the room. 

He had been working late, so it was just past midnight. His footsteps were silent as he walked past you towards the bed. But he saw you were engrossed in your work and was going to sneak past you without disturbing you, but a thought popped into his mind and he suddenly couldn’t resist.

Biting your lip, you look down at the papers on the table and start to write something down, oblivious to the way Spencer was sneakily padding over to you with a clear intention in mind. You didn't know what he had planned, but you knew you couldn't afford any distractions right now.

He came up behind you and stood at your left-hand side. Your attention was still focused on the papers in front of you, much to his dismay. He leaned in slowly and kissed the right side of your neck, moving any pieces of hair that got in his way. He then nuzzled his face against your neck, his breathing becoming quick and shallow.

A shudder ran up your spine and your heart almost stopped before you processed what was happening as he snapped you out of your work-induced trance. After the initial shock, your eyebrows knit further in annoyance. You had a lot of things to get done, and he sure wasn't helping, and you knew he knew that.

"Not now, Spence. I'm really really busy, do you think you can give me a few hours?"

You try to sound as sweet as possible, because you knew for a fact that he could not wait a few more hours. He was impatient and needy at the worst times, now being one of them. You tried to ignore the warm feeling of his lips pressing tiny kisses against your neck.

“How about now? I just want a little taste..”

His lust blown eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you, with a slight playful smile. His voice sounded low and husky and his eyes burned with arousal. His words had a slight edge of desperation to them and he seemed to have no intention of giving up any time soon.

Breaking your gaze from your work you look at him just long enough that those wide eyes of his almost win you over, but you're quick to get back to writing as you shake your head. The desperation was evident in his voice, but you really had so much to do. You just couldn't afford to stop and give him what he wanted.

"Baby, I told you. I'm really busy, be a good boy and be patient for me, please?"

Spencer had looked like a hurt puppy when you turned away from him, he couldn’t believe you didn’t give in after his first time asking. His face twisted into a sad frown as you wrote on your stupid papers. He sighed again and tried harder to get your attention.

“Just a few minutes, please? Do I really have to wait until later?”

He asked pitifully. The puppy dog eyes and little frown that looked so adorable on his face were working overtime to get you to give in and fuck him already.

With a soft chuckle you look at him and shake your head once more. It was always hard to say no to him, and you rarely did, which is why he always took it so hard.

It was always so endearing how desperate he got when he didn't get what he wanted. You really did want to give him what he wanted, but he was far too spoiled already. He had to learn his lesson sooner or later.

"Spence, baby. Go lay down or read a book until I'm finished, I promise after I'm finished we can do whatever you want, okay? You'll be okay waiting for a bit."

He was determined to make you give in by any means necessary. The slacks he neglected to change out of were growing tighter by the second, heavy cock straining against the already uncomfortable material. He was so hard and needy and he didn’t know what he’d do if you kept this up. 

Spencer leaned in closer to you, and his lips pressed against the side of your neck again. This time he sucked and swirled his wet tongue against it, creating a tingling feeling that spread throughout your body. He looked down at you with a pleading look, trying to make you give into his pleading and begging sooner rather than later.

“Please.. I-I can’t wait an entire night to be with you. I just can’t..” He whined, looking at you pitifully. His tone was almost like he was throwing a tantrum, and at this point he might as well have been.

"Well you're going to have to, if I don't get this finished I'm fucked."

You didn't even spare him the glance, already knowing he was giving you those pouty lips and sad puppy eyes. Maybe it was because you really did need to focus, or because you knew if you looked at him for longer than a second you wouldn't be able to.

His bottom lip curled downwards into a pout and he let out a sigh, before slowly leaning back away from you. He took a step back but his eyes remained glued on you. 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be a good boy..” He whined again, and pouted.

The dejected tone in his voice sent a pang through your heart, and you couldn't help the way you bit your lip in thought at how to proceed this. You knew you had to work, but you also knew how much he loved being around you. Sighing, you speak your compromise.

"Come here."

You called out in a firm voice, waiting for his presence behind you again.

He seemed a little surprised by your rather blunt word choice, but he obeyed nonetheless and came back over to stand behind you. Plus your tone of voice when you called for him turned him on in an instant. You still had your attention on your work and he knew that, but he liked the small progress he was making. 

“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

He was still in a slightly dejected tone, but he had a glimmer of hope. He craved to hear and feel the passion and desire he knew you had inside of you, and he needed it now. 

"Get on the ground."

You offhandedly said, as if it were nothing more than a passing thought. With your rolling office chair, you pushed yourself back a bit so he had more space. Space to sit underneath your desk like a good pet while you finish your work. He was so desperate for your attention, he'd take anything you offered.

The moment he heard those words his heart dropped into his stomach. He was so desperate to be with you, that even being right at your feet was more than he could ever ask for. He loved when you told him what to do and when to do something. He absolutely adored being ordered around.

Spencer was quick to obey you as he fell to his knees and crawled under the desk, waiting for more orders. His eyes burned with lust as he stared up at you. 

Your eyes flickered down at him once he was settled between your legs, and you widened them the littlest bit more, just to tease him. Without another word, you began typing on your computer, seemingly ignoring him after telling him to kneel at your feet like a dog.

To put it simply, he was desperate to be noticed. He wanted your attention so bad he’d do anything for it. He wanted you to acknowledge him, give him the littlest glance and he’d be happy.

Yet, he still knew better than to bother you right now while you were working after already burning that bridge. So he just looked up at you as you typed away on your computer and waited for a sign from you. His eyes locked with yours that were glued to the screen and he looked at you with a gaze full of adoration and worship. 

But you hadn't even been granted five minutes of peace and quiet before you felt him scooting closer towards you. He seemed to take a liking to your right leg, gravitating towards it and not so subtly opening his own legs to slot your calf between them. You stop typing for a moment, but you don't give the satisfaction of sight.

"Spencer."

Voice low and scolding, you warn him with just the call of his name. You thought you had given him more than enough attention, especially after he had been such a brat and refused to leave you alone. He's lucky you even let him sit under your desk, and now he was taking advantage of it.

His eyes darted forward when he heard your low, scolding voice, as if he had been caught. He looked at you with eyes that were positively spilling faux innocence, like he was expecting to be let off the hook.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

Spencer asked quietly, tilting his head to one side. His expression looked hopeful, like he was expecting more. A part of him was hoping to be rewarded for his behavior. He knew that wasn’t the case, though. You never rewarded misbehavior.

"Watch it."

You warned him once again. The tone in your voice was nothing short of intimidating and serious, and yet it did nothing but turn him on even more. You could feel his arousal throbbing against your ankle as he cozied himself up against your leg. You tried to ignore the weight and heat of his shaft pressing on you, but you were just a woman. 

He rested his chin on your knee, eyes wide and sparkling. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked a little confused as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong so as to deserve your warning. You told him to get on the ground, you never told him he couldn’t use your leg to get himself off. He had no idea he was taking advantage of your kindness, and yet had no problem doing it.

“Watch what?”

The brunet asked innocently. He kept his eyes glued to yours, waiting to see what you were going to do, as if challenging you. The longer he looked up at you, the hornier he got. Taking a deep inhale through your nose and rolling your eyes, you snap at him. 

"I've told you countless times, I need to get my work done. I can't give you what you want."

You reminded him once again, eyes darting everywhere on the desk and yet not one glance underneath it. You had hardly registered the way his hips were slowly rolling down against your leg and how his plush pink lips parted with a soft moan. He was grinding against you like a bitch in heat, barely listening to a word you said at this point. 

He let out a whimper as he pushed the pulsing head of his dick against you without a care in the world. Those wide, adorable brown eyes of his looked so desperate as he continued to look up and try his best as to not be caught by you. You couldn't see it, but you felt his arms hook around your leg for more leverage to hump against you pathetically. 

“I know, I know. I just–can’t wait. It has to be you..” 

Your breath hitched as your breath got caught in your throat. Something about those words he just whimpered out, they were winning you over. You purse your lips with a sigh and look down at the pathetic puppy at your feet. The movements of his hips and crotch had slowed down, but you could tell he was just itching to start again. The way his eyebrows were slightly upturned in the temptation of bliss, and the soft puffs of a whimper leaving his mouth. It was too much, and you were worn weak.

"You have five minutes, if you don't get off by then, you leave this room. Understood?"

Spencer smiled widely when he heard what you agreed to, and he crawled forward more to hug your leg closer to his chest. Pressing his forehead against your knee, he made small, soft whimpering noises as he got to work. 

“Yes, Ma’am. I understand. Five minutes.” 

He recited back to you as coherently as he could, already lost in the feeling of your unmoving ankle colliding so deliciously with his leaking cock. He was staining the insides of his boxers with sticky warm precum, and the wetness made his head spin and his breath shallow.

Turning your attention back to the work at hand and not the bitch at your feet, you shake your head and try your hardest to ignore the way he was practically humping your leg at this point. He was trying his hardest to keep quiet, but it obviously wasn't working. If Spencer was anything, it was vocal when he felt his best. You could feel every stutter of his hips and the way the rest of his body shook when he pressed his arousal harder against the bone of your calf. You'd be lying if you told yourself this wasn't turning you on beyond belief, ignoring him as he used you for his own pleasure.

He pushed himself against your leg some more, but he didn’t push it too far for now. You knew he was about to burst, but he tried so hard to hold it in to enjoy it. He was breathing more heavily as instinctively kissed your knee. His sounds of need became louder with every hump.

“Oh, fuck.” 

He shuddered out, his voice still low and sultry and nothing short of needy. His whole body quivered with the amount of effort he was using to hold on. Not only would it be humiliating to have finished not even thirty seconds after you granted him permission to get himself off, but it would be an utter waste of time. 

As the seconds ticked by and approached his time limit, the push and pull of his lower body was almost maddening. He was rubbing himself so hard against you through his pants, and you secretly hoped he'd be able to finish in five minutes, considering how badly you wanted to see him make a mess without even having to touch him, let alone pay attention to him.

Spencer looked up at you, and he still had four minutes to go before his time was up. He was already out of control, and it was getting harder and harder to hold himself back.

He kept rubbing himself on you and making those low, desperate sounds. He was going to explode soon, and although unlikely, he hoped that you would stop working when those five minutes were up. He hoped you would finally pay attention to him. He was so needy and desperate. He wanted you now. 

While he was having the time of his life grinding against you, it just wasn’t what he really needed. He needed to be buried inside of you, pushing as deep as he possibly can as your cunt sucked him in even further. He needed to have you gushing around him as his elbows gave out on him as he tried his hardest to keep fucking you through his third orgasm. 

But he wasn’t going to get that, not tonight. 

Deciding to try and be nicer to your poor boy, you move one hand away from your work and card it through his soft curls. Running your nails against his scalp, back and forth, as if to imitate the cant of his hips. It almost served as a silent praise, 'what a good job you're doing' you could have said, but you had a demeanor to keep up and a report to write up.

He couldn’t help the pathetic groan that was punched out of him at your touch. You always knew where he loved being touched the most, and you knew it never felt as good when he did it himself. 

“Oh, fuck–please.”

The words left his mouth in a hiss as he pushed himself more against you. His jaw shook and his sounds grew in intensity as his body froze and he squeezed your leg impossibly tighter. It wasn't a moment later that you felt his entire body go rigid against you and his breath caught in his throat in what sounded like a choked sob.

The tightness of Spencer’s pants did nothing to mask his shame as he exploded into the poor stained fabric. His eyes instantly found your face and almost forced you to look right back at him as he finished. His mouth was quivering as pathetic whimpers and moans punched their way out of his throat. Thick spurts of warm cum made their way into his boxers. He had positively soaked the front of his pants, with a minute left to spare.

The moment he finished, he fell flat against you and his hand reached out and grabbed your thigh, clinging onto you like he was dying and you were his lifeline. His head was pressed firmly against your leg and he was still shaking and breathing heavily from his release.

His face was burning red from the strain he just went through. He felt as though he shot out his soul in the process of drenching himself. He had a stupid grin on his face as he looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“Can I stay now?” He asked in a desperate tone, with those same damned puppy dog eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you smile down at him and suck on your teeth. He always knew how to push your buttons and get what he wanted, every single time.

“Fine. But keep those hands to yourself.”

[hynzsn]

Just male reader wants to ride bang chan after chan being stressed from work.

★ STRESS RELIEF ★

☆ bangchan x male reader

-> idol!chan x non-idol!reader

꩜ .ᐟ smut

contents: top!bangchan x bottom!reader, m/m, anal sex, cock riding, anal fingering, studio setting, chan being stressed from work, established relationship, porn without plot/what plot?, explicit language, neck kisses, tongue kissing, straddling, neck nuzzling, praise, aftercare, chan calls reader “babe.”

wc: 1.2k (i think)

a/n: i feel like this is so rushed 😭 forgive mee >.< i didn’t realize until after i read through it how rushed it actually was. like i probably missed out a few things but oh well. i hope the person who requested this likes it.

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

you find bangchan hunched over his desk in the dimly lit studio, headphones on, fingers flying over his keyboard. the room is filled with the soft glow of computer screens and the faint hum of unfinished tracks. you watch him for a moment, heart aching at the sight of his tense shoulders and exhausted expression. you know he's been working non-stop, barely taking a break, and it's starting to take a toll on him.

"chan," you call softly, stepping into the room.

he doesn't hear you at first, so you move closer, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. he jumps slightly, pulling off his headphones and turning to face you. his eyes soften when he sees you, but there's still a hint of stress lingering in them.

"hey, babe," he says, voice tired but affectionate. "what are you doing here?"

"i came to check on you," you reply, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. "you’ve been working too hard."

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i know, but there's so much to do. i can't afford to take a break right now."

you shake your head, cupping his face in your hands. "you need to relax, chan. come on, let's take a break. just for a little while."

he hesitates, but the pleading look in your eyes convinces him. he nods, letting you pull him up from his chair. you lead him over to the couch in the corner of the studio, pushing him down gently. he looks up at you, curiosity and a hint of arousal in his eyes as you straddle his lap.

“babe, what are you doing?" he asks, though there's no real protest in his voice.

you smirk, leaning in to kiss him deeply. "just let me take care of you, okay? you need to relax, and i know exactly how to help."

he groans as you grind down against him, already starting to get hard under you. you kiss him again, more urgently this time, your hands moving to unbutton his shirt. he shivers as your fingers brush against his skin, his hands coming up to grip your hips.

"fuck, babe," he mutters against your lips. "you’re gonna drive me crazy."

"that’s the plan," you reply with a grin, trailing kisses down his neck.

you can feel his cock straining against his pants, and you waste no time in unbuttoning them, pulling them down just enough to free him. your breath catches as you take in the sight of his impressive length—thick and veined, his cock stands proud and flushed a deep, enticing shade of red. it curves slightly upwards, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

the sight alone is enough to make your mouth water, and you can't help but let out a soft moan of appreciation. he hisses as the cool air hits his heated skin, his hands tightening on your hips as he watches your reaction with dark, hooded eyes.

"lift your hips a little," you instruct, reaching for the small bottle of lube that chan, the little minx, had stashed on the side table behind a stack of notebooks.

he obeys, and you take a moment to strip off your own clothes, tossing them aside carelessly. as you stand there, fully exposed, you catch chan’s heated gaze raking over your body, his eyes darkening with lust.

you smirk, enjoying the way his breath hitches when you slick your fingers up with lube. locking eyes with him, you reach behind yourself, circling your anus with one finger before slowly pushing in. chan couldn’t help but groan at the sight, his grip on your hips almost becoming painful as you drive him wild.

"fuck, y/n," he mutters. "you’re so hot."

you added a second finger, scissoring them inside you. the stretch burns slightly, but it's a familiar and welcome sensation. you take your time, wanting to make sure you're fully prepared for him. chan’s eyes are glued to your movements, his breathing growing heavier with each passing second.

"fuck, i need you," he breathes, his voice strained.

"almost there," you assure him, adding a third finger and thrusting them in and out a few times before pulling them out completely.

you pour some more lube into your hand, slicking up his cock and giving it a few strokes. he groans loudly, his head falling back against the couch as he bucks up into your hand.

"y/n," he whines slightly. "i need to be inside you."

you position yourself above him, lining him up with your asshole. you sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch, the stretch almost too much but exactly what you need. he grips your hips tightly, his eyes locked on where you’re connected.

"fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice thick with arousal.

you start to move, riding him slowly at first to let both of you adjust. the feeling of him filling you completely is intoxicating, and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips. his hands guide you, urging you to move faster, and you comply, picking up the pace.

the room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his groans blending together in a symphony of pleasure. you can feel the tension in his body slowly starting to melt away, replaced by pure, unadulterated need.

"chan, you feel so good," you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you ride him harder.

he thrusts up to meet your movements, “yeah? fuck, you're amazing."

you lean down to kiss him, your tongues tangling as you continue to move together. the angle shifts slightly, and you gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside you. he smirks against your lips, clearly pleased with your reaction.

"right there?" he asks, his voice breathless.

"yes, fuck, right there," you reply, your nails digging into his shoulders.

he thrusts up harder, hitting that spot over and over until you're seeing stars. the pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel your orgasm building rapidly.

"chan, i’m close," you warn, your voice barely more than a whimper.

"me too, babe," he responds, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

you ride him harder, chasing your release, and with one final thrust, you come undone. your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, and you cry out his name, your entire body trembling with pleasure. he follows right behind you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he comes deep inside you.

you collapse against his chest, both of you panting and sweaty but thoroughly satisfied. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you both come down from your high.

"you’re perfect," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i really needed that."

you smile, nuzzling into his neck. "anytime, chan. i’m always here for you."

he chuckles, tightening his hold on you. "i know. and i love you for it."

"i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling with affection.

you stay like that for a while, just holding each other and basking in the afterglow. eventually, you both reluctantly get up, knowing that the work still needs to be done. but now, with the stress melted away and the bond between you even stronger, it doesn't seem quite so daunting.

as you help him tidy up the studio, he looks at you with a grateful smile. "i don't know what I'd do without you, babe."

you grin, leaning in to kiss him one last time. "luckily, you'll never have to find out."

[pin-k-ink]

pent up // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ semi public sex, biting, marking, nipple play, dirty talk, established relationship, unprotected sex, begging, fingering, mention of male masturbation

wc ⇢ 1.2k

a/n: not satisfied with this one either…and i keep forgetting that this guy has a kansai dialect

The lab was cloaked in near total darkness, save for the bluish glow of the monitors humming in standby mode. You suppressed a yawn as you entered the data from today's latest round of kaiju cell analyses, the rhythmic clacking of keys filling the stillness.

At least these late night sessions afforded you some peace and privacy to focus without distractions. With the spike in kaiju activity lately, you'd been logging far too many long hours bent over these microscopes and petri dishes--

"Well, well...what do we have here?"

You jolted ramrod straight at the teasing baritone that seemed to resonate directly against the back of your neck. Before you could whirl around, a pair of corded, muscular arms snaked around your midsection from behind, anchoring you against a powerful, chiseled chest as hot lips ghosted over the racing pulse at your throat.

"Working late again without me, baby?" Soshiro growled in a voice dripping with playful accusation. "You know how I hate being left out like this..."

Your breath hitched at the delicious vibrations thrumming against your nape with each rasping word. He plastered himself fully along your backside - every rigid, defined plane molding against your softer curves so deliciously you nearly whimpered. The rigid outline of his rapidly swelling cock nudged insistently against your ass, leaving no doubt as to his state of riled desire.

"S-Soshiro!" you exhaled shakily. "I thought you were still out in the field--"

"Mmmm, got done sooner than expected," he rumbled in smug contentment, nuzzling deeper into your hairline to pepper kisses there. "Lucky me too, otherwise I might've missed the chance to catch my gorgeous girlfriend working late all alone...again..."

He punctuated the accusation by rolling his hips forward in a slithery, teasing grind that sent liquid fire pooling between your thighs instantly. You gasped at the blatant lust riding his every motion, hands flying up to grip his corded forearms reflexively as need swamped through your veins.

"Fuck, I've been so goddamn worked up without you around," Soshiro groaned against the slick skin beneath your jaw, fangs grazing there in stinging little nips. "Jerking off twice a day just thinking about burying myself in this perfect body until you're a goddamn mess..."

He reached up to shove your sweater and shirt aside with impatient motions, dragging the soft cup of your bra down to bare one breast to the open air. You shuddered violently as cool oxygen seared your inflamed skin - nipple tightening into a rigid point that Soshiro wasted no time lavishing with rough swipes of his tongue.

"Nngh, 'Shiro! We c-can't..." you tried in a broken whimper, even as your spine arched wantonly into the scorching heat of his mouth. "Not here, someone could--"

"So what?" he growled against your saliva-slick flesh, sucking a lurid mark into the tender swell hungrily. "Let them finally see how crazy you make me after being denied for weeks...hear how pretty you sound when I fuck you like my life depends on it..."

His hand found the waistband of your slacks in the same breath, dipping past the lacy barrier of your panties to swipe his knuckles over your dripping entrance with devastating bluntness. An inarticulate noise punched itself from your throat in stunned rapture at the glide of his calloused fingers seeking out your swollen clit.

"God, you're so fucking soaked already," Soshiro snarled in husky approval. "Told you how much I've been thinking about devouring this perfect little pussy of yours, didn't I?"

You cried out shamelessly, nails scoring down his forearms as he speared two thick digits past your fluttering folds to the last knuckle. His thumb found your aching clit, thrumming tight little circles that shattered your vision in white nova bursts.

"So good for me, opening up so beautifully," he praised roughly against the corner of your slack mouth, teeth scoring your earlobe in a stinging burn. "Like your greedy little cunt was made to milk me dry again and again..."

Distantly, you registered the sounds of him shucking his pants off behind you with frantic motions, the heavy line of fat cock finally springing free. You rolled your hips in mindless desperation, chasing the delicious friction of his thrusting fingers urgently.

"Yes, yesss, Soshiro!" you babbled around a helpless stream of sobs and moans. "Please, I need...need you to..."

"Shhh, baby...I've got you," he growled with dark reassurance in your ear, swollen cockhead finding your entrance with precision guidance.

You keened at the thick stretch and glorious impalement as he hilted himself to the root in one smooth, fluid roll of his hips. Behind you, Soshiro released a ragged sound of bliss, hot breath fanning over your nape as he savored the velvet heat enveloping his aching cock at last.

"Fuuuuck...baby, you feel so goddamn tight, squeezing me so fucking perfectly..."

You could only whimper and rut back against his bulk needfully in response - utterly overwhelmed by the sheer size and weight of him buried so profoundly. The slick noises of his withdrawal teased obscene symphonies in the quiet lab, only for his girthy thrust home to pummel the breath from your lungs anew in rapture.

Over and over, he ground into your convulsing walls at a ruthless, relentless cadence - every snap of his lean hips punctuated by rough groans and fevered praises filtering against your sweat-slick skin. The unyielding suction of his chest to your back anchored you in sublime torment, his hands possessively palming and groping every lush curve as he staked his dominion.

"Just like that, sweetheart," Soshiro growled in your ear as his pounding rhythm punched guttural noises from the depths of your being. "Hold those gorgeous tits for me while I ruin that tight cunt, fuck...taking me so fucking deep, squeezing so tight..."

His sharp canines found the fevered juncture of your neck and shoulder in an implacable bite, the fiery sting only amplifying the maddening friction splitting you apart from root to core. In the same breath, he latched one calloused hand around your throat - not squeezing, just a heavy grounding vice as he pistoned deeper.

You bucked back onto him, relishing the addictive drag of his veiny cock along your rippling walls. Every gasping moan and keen shattered against the sterile air surrounding you both, as if to defy the pristine silence entirely in favor of hedonistic ruin at last.

Soshiro railed into you with gradually increasing savagery, fingers bruising at your hip and throat as his climax mounted insurmountably. Something molten and feverish kindled to rapturous life behind your fluttering lids. Finally...

"Mine..." he snarled through gritted teeth, teeth scoring your nape and back arching as release crested. "Say it, [Y/N]...you're fucking mine, only ever fucking mine..."

"Yours!" you howled unintelligibly, every nerve ending splintering into infinite fragments of ecstasy at his brutal claiming. "Always yours, Soshiro, oh fuck...!"

Your shared shouts splintered to hoarse shrieks of blissful rapture as his shaft pounded home in one final, bestial thrust. Thick, creamy cum flooded your convulsing pussy torridly as Soshiro threw back his head and roared your name - muscles corded in stark relief while his climax milked out in pulse after pulse of abandon.

Your juices gushed freely around his iron length, spasming through soaring peaks and crashing falls of blinding intensity until exhaustion finally bled into a twilight half-consciousness. Dimly, you felt his slick, softening cock withdrawing, only to be gathered up and cradled in strong arms as you drifted on the ebbing tide of aftershocks.

[blingblong55]

Little black dress- Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Photo credits: @ave661

Based on a request:

hey! just binge read all ur fics and I love them so much😭 saw that your taking requests rn and I had one, reader and ghost had gotten into an argument right before a party and so reader puts on her shortest dress and purposely tries her hardest to make ghost jealous, then gets fucked senseless by ghost when they get back😋 (Dom!ghost, consensual ofc) love your writing ur so creative with it! (just a request you don't have to do it^^)

---- F!Reader, established!relationship, smut, 18+, MDNI, unprotected!sex, dom!Ghost, rough!sex, slapping, choking, jealous!Ghost? ----

It was possibly the worst argument in your relationship so far, he and you saying horrible stuff towards each other and worst of it all is that you both had to attend some stupid party. The drive there was silent and awkward, especially when you wore that tight little black dress. The same one that showed him every beautiful curve of yours, he adjusted himself in the seat, an annoyed sigh as he tried to focus on the road ahead. You, applying that red lipstick and fuck did he need to have your marked lips on him. 

The party was shit, he didn't expect more from it but when one song in particular came up, he had to adjust his trousers as he watched you move. That body was graced by the gods, moving your hips, hypnotising him like a siren. His bulge grows bigger by the second, and your cat's eye on him is like prey. He shook his head, Simon knew you well, knew the tricks you did to mess with his head. And fuck you because it was working. There is one thing he loves when in public settings. That being that every guy in the room looks at you, wanting to fuck that cunt of yours but when you sit on Simons's lap, let him kiss your neck or you kiss his neck, he knows every man in that room envies him. 

No other man in that crowded space can fuck you, touch you but all they can afford is to imagine you, imagine how tight that cunt of yours is, how your pretty tits bounce when riding, how your moans sound. Simon Riley, a man who knows his pretty toy is for his use, who knows he eats you out, makes you come, scream, whimper and beg to come all over again. "Mate, y'alright?" And suddenly, he is back in that party. He nods, your stare still on him as your body keeps moving, he becomes frustrated, how can a pretty thing like you make him this way? Why can't you just bend over his lap, let his calloused fingers in your cunt, and make every man in that space know you are his slut, no one else's. 

And then he saw it, another guy trying to flirt with you. He isn't insecure of himself, very much the opposite but to even think of a man as pathetic and not as strong as he dares to flirt with you? Yeah, not happening on his watch. Simon knows you are loyal, he is secure in your love and knows you don't have eyes for anyone else but him, but it's time Simon shows once and for all that just because you aren't grinding on him at this party doesn't mean you two ended. He gives you that look, motions with one nod for you to come over and with some hesitation you do, "Simon, don't start-" His lips cut you off as he kisses you, his hand possessively on your waist as the other holds you by the back of your neck. 

"You're my-..fucking...girl," he reminds you between kisses. Of course, this reminder wasn't really for you, but for those around who think they have any chance with you. As stated before, he isn't insecure, he adores when you wear small dresses, when your curves are for all to view but to not touch, he loves to know that at the end of the day, you go home to him and that no man can change that. Simon encourages you to wear those outfits, he can fight and he can certainly kill for you, so wear that dress, be a slut and wear it because in the end, he belongs to you and you to him. Blood-covered knuckles won't stop the romance you two have. 

He grabs your hand, takes you back to the car and drives home. "I didn't get to finish talking with my friends, Si," you look at him and he shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, you can see them tomorrow, if you can walk that is." His hand is on your thigh as he drives. Fingers caressing the softness of your thigh. "I'm sure you can tell them all about how you got a proper fuck, right darling? Since you love to gossip and they too, so, tell them, tell them your boyfriend fucked you and covered your pretty body in his cum."

Once home, he carries you to the bedroom, tearing the dress apart as he nibbles on your neck. His cock was hard, swollen and needy for some attention. You look at him but all he does is turn you around, push you to the bed, and slowly rip your panties, his tongue lapping at your wet cunt. Your eyes shut as moans escaped your lips, you look back and he shakes his head, and slaps your ass. "No no, you don't get the privilege to look at me," he sits up and pushes your face to the mattress. His heavy cock slapping at your cunt before he pushes his tip between your thighs, your cunt already aching for him. 

Your hands behind your back, his strong hands holding your wrists as he begins to slowly push himself inside of you. "Oh fuck, lovie, s'tight," he moans and begins to increase his speed. Your cunt spreading for his size, your eyes leaking mascara-stained tears. You begin to moan louder the harder he pounds your sore ass. "Shut the fuck up," he slaps your ass once more, making you let out a whiny moan. One of his hands wraps around your neck, making sure to choke you just hard enough. Your voice is hoarse as you continue to get your tight cunt pounded. 

"C'mon, lovie, just take it." He whispers into your ear and begins to leave love bites on your neck. "Si," you cry. His marks beginning to hurt just right. "It's okay, pretty baby, let me just fuck you raw and then let me take care of you, yeah?" Simon whispers. His cock is buried in your sweet pussy, and your back begins to arch the second his hand travels down and slowly rubs your clit. Your moans are loud, and you begin to moan his name, cursing him as you begin to get closer to your orgasm. "Come for me, I know you want to, lovie," Simon taunts, his fingers slow, letting the build-up increase and the second you grew quiet, your cunt clenching around him, he knew you had cummed. 

Your whimpers get low as he pulls out, begins to stroke himself and grunts, his cum painting your back. "Oh, that's my girl," he moans, fingertips spreading his seed all over your soft skin, you squirm and he lifts your chin. "Open your mouth," he says and lets you clean his fingers, your tempting stare and the way you make subtle moans what a way to ask him for more. He picks you up and snuggles you under the sheets. "You did such a good job, darling," he smiles, Simon's warm lips meeting your forehead. Your legs still shaking, trying to calm down, ass is so red you wince when he massages your ass. "You'll be okay, I'll take care of you," he whispers and wraps his strong arms around you. 

A/N: my brain melted mid way through this so I'm sorry if its shit

Tags:

@liyanahelena @ghostslillady @unicorngirly1 @under-the-dirt @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idklols @katybaby00 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @greatstormcat

[etherfabric]

Directions from Your Higher Self

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

Pile 1

The Star, The Moon

You started to believe in miracles, and are now scared shitless. No small expectations keeping you safe from disappointment anymore. You got a taste of what magic feels like, and now fear dullness like the plague. Two things: You are allowed to have boring days, that doesn't mean the magic is gone. It can't be Christmas everyday. You would get sick of the lights eventually, believe me. And the other thing: That's why they say that victimhood can be a kind of safety blanket. If you already expect only crap from life, there is no horrible suspense anymore. But now... you can't go back. Even if you try it.

This is an icky phase of metamorphosis. It's normal that it feels disorienting and like you can't make sense of anything anymore. Do soothing stuff, calming habits, be around safe people. And spoiler: This is about embracing your humanity in a whole new depth. Don't worry, it will feel supernatural again soon enough. But for now, practice being plain, while also weaving your belief in miracles into it. Challenging, yes, but nothing you can't handle. You got this.

Pile 2

The Moon, 3 of Pentacles

Nothing you put energy or effort into seems to yield anything. It feels like punching in slowmotion, nightmarish. Hitting no one who needs to feel your hits. Newsflash: This is not a time for work! Get soft, dammit. You can't experience rest while still trying to prove something. No one is watching. You are being your own cruel audience, and boo yourself into despair. What are you aiming at? Who convinced you that particular thing is the sole hope for you to be happy ever again?

I love you, you are me, I am you, but I can't let you go on like this. Not with what lies ahead of us. If you only knew how easy things will get. How many fears will never come true. How much lighter you could afford to be. How much love you already deserve. But you have to dare opening your arms, and put the tools down. The monuments you try to erect are aimed at Gods you won't believe in anymore once you experience your feminine side as a gift, and not a curse. Grindset? Grind your teeth while napping, if you have to. But this is bigger than your egotistical, temporal ambitions. You need to do it slow, and I won't stop insisting. Because I can see more than you. You will have no choice but trusting me on this one.

Pile 3

The Emperor, The Devil

Have you heard of this awesome thing called "free will"? Let's take that baby for a ride. Use 3 spoons for the same meal. Lie on the floor of your hallway and recite a song. Buy a stranger a magazine about trains. Take a pair of scissors to your least favorite shirt. Name your nail polishes after famous people. The possibilities are literally endless, but yet you rotate the same 7 things. They will stay ready for when you need them next, but let's shake it up a little, huh? No wonder you feel trapped and stuck. But YOU make the rules, at the end of the day. Yes, there are outer limitations you have no influence over, but even in a literal cage, you can decide what you think, or how you sit, or what notes you hum, or what shadow figures you make with your hands.

The thing itself is meaningless - it's about you experiencing being a CREATOR. Not just a servant to others. I don't care if it's throwing a paper plane into your bathtub, or quitting your job and disappearing to Nepal - but we crave novelty and agency. Deeply. Break the self-imposed limits, any of them. Just to feel what it feels like. It's more rewarding than you imagine.

Pile 4

The Hanged Man, 2 of Cups

Oh shucks. You like someone. It happened. And you can't cancel it willynilly. Suppression has run its course, and now you have to face the embarrassment of having a heart with a need to connect and love. This has completely ruined your illusion of sovereignty you so deeply depended on to feel safe in the world. What now? Where will it lead? What does it mean? What will happen next? Do they like me? Do they think of me? Do they think of me badly? Why do I think about them? Is this me being brave, or pathetic? Is there a true difference?...

The questions don't stop, and you know what - they shouldn't. This is less about the "result" of this connection (I know, boo me, because this is your hyperfixation above all, despite not ever admitting it) and more about getting you out of your shell to be curious about yourself again. The heart needs to be open, and these fears and doubts have been there for a long time already. You are ready to face them, examine them, and learn more about yourself than any flavour of aloofness could ever teach you. I know you hate it, but I can also see the faint giggly twinkle in your soul from up here, buried under all this denial and acting tough. And that's the most scary part for you. That you actually like someone, like, in THAT way. How scary that life has no guarantees, but coming to peace with that truth will serve you much more than any relationship ever could.

[princessmaybank]

Hey Princess 👑! Chefs Kiss 💋😘 for writing and you deserve the 1.5K celebration 🎉 and may I please get Cherry red 🍒 with prompts 24 and 25 cause they are my fav! Thank you so much have a wonderful day! Love you lots!😘

Thank you so much honey and absolutely! Sorry it took forever baby, I hope you like it though!

Gettin' Mouthy

Pairings: Dom!Boyfriend!JJ x Kook!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Annoying!reader, public, hickeys, fingering, grinding, oral (Fem. receiving), rough!JJ, gagging, daddy kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, etc.

Summary: Reader had an attitude problem and JJ decided to fix it!

Author's Note: I hope you all like this one, I would really enjoy some feedback on this one! Enjoy!

Moodboard

"I just don't see why you can't get me both Jay!" She whined. All day long it's been this back and forth game of which thing to buy her. I couldn't afford both and she damn well knew that but didn't seem to care I guess.

"You know I can't afford both!" I said, irritated. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Maybe you should get a better job." That's when I snapped. I pulled her by the wrist until we were far enough away from the street in a small alleyway. I pushed her harshly up against the brick wall and my hand found its way around her throat. "Who do you think you're talking to?" I ask through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes again, not giving a fuck. "You. Who else would I be talking to?" She snipped at me. "I suggest you choose your words very wisely darling." Her attitude hasn't gone away, I can still see it in her eyes and in her body language. "Or what?" She asks. I paused. She's a brat but she's never been this bratty. "Who do you think you're talking to?" I ask, getting genuinely upset. Her arms crossed against her chest with another huff and eye roll. "There's no one else around...who do you think I'm talking to?" She said in the same tone that started this mess. I let out a huff as my tongue swirled the inside of my cheek.

"You're testin' my patience darlin'." I gave a small fake laugh. "Oh boo hoo.." Y/N mocked. I slammed her against the wall again, keeping my hand around her throat. "Fix your attitude or I'll fuck it out of you." I snapped. "Take me home then." She rolled her eyes with a huff. I let out a deep chuckle.

"Oh no princess, you wanna act like a spoiled little bitch in public, you're gonna get punished in public too." I smirked and her eyes finally went wide. "What? No Jay..I was only playin! Swear!" She tried to save her ass but it wasn't gonna work. "Too late for that princess. You're fucked." I grinned.

I swiftly grabbed her wrists and held them above her head with one hand. My other hand roamed her body as did my lips. I kissed and bit at her neck, leaving a path of beautiful red markings. "Jay- s-someone might see us!" She whined. I continued my line of kisses down her breasts and smirked against her skin. "Shoulda thought about that, huh." I said looking up at her with a shit-eating grin. All she could do in response was whine some more and wiggle around, but she wasn't going anywhere.

"Remember princess...I'm still in charge, no matter how bratty you think you can be." I whispered in her ear before flipping her around and pinning her to the wall. I put my hands on her hips and pushed my hips against her ass. I placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, causing a small gasp to come from her lips. My hand snaked its way up under her dress. I gasp in her ear when I find a little surprise. "No panties? Naughty girl." I tease her slit by lightly running my finger over her folds. "For you daddy. For later." She whined again. "You're lucky it isn't a windy day, doll." I release a breathy moan in her ear as I insert my middle finger into her. She moaned and tried to grind against my hand. "Ah ah ah. I don't think so princess." I pulled my hand away from her and placed them both back on her hips.

I jutted my pelvis forward, lightly grinding my cock against her ass. "JJ, please, stop teasing!" Y/N yelled. My hand slapped over her mouth to keep her from shouting more. "Gonna get us caught with that loud mouth of yours." I pulled her a little bit away from the wall so I could bend her over. "C'mon princess you know what to do...hands on the wall." I smirked as she huffed before complying.

"Mmm good girl.." My hands slowly massaged her ass, giving each cheek a little slap before dropping to my knees. "Wha-what are you doing Jay?!?" She yelled again. Without a second thought I gave her pussy a nice slap causing a yelp. "Shut that pretty little mouth princess, ya never know what could get shoved in there."

She finally settled before my tongue swiped from her clit to her asshole. I grabbed her thighs to support her as my tongue swirled around her perfect little cunt. Moans spilled from her lips, even when I peppered her lower lips with kisses. My tongue circled her hole before plunging in and out with the most beautiful noises coming from my little lady. "Oh fuck Jay- need more!" She always loves to whine.

Before I knew it she was fuckin' herself with my tongue. Her hand crept down to her clit and toyed with it as she pushed herself backwards. "Oh..oh shit..." Moan after moan leaving her body. Just when she thought I'd let her cum, I pulled away and stood up. Once again she whined and complained about me doing this to her. Y/N turned around to start arguing with me.

"Really Jay?! You knew how close I wa-" I cut her off by slamming her against the wall. I quickly pulled off my belt and wrapped it around her head and used it as a gag. I stepped close to her and bent down to her ear. "Since you seem to have no control over that pretty little mouth princess.." I smirked.

One hand stayed on the extra length of my belt while the other worked my jeans down. My lips attacked her neck, earning me some muffled moans. I got my cock out and started pumping myself and continued. Y/N was eager and so was I, she took my cock and led it to her entrance. "Someone's needy.." I tease. She rolled her eyes at me. "Even gagged you find a way to give me attitude.. unbelievable" I let out a small laugh before slipping inside her juicy pussy.

I lifted her leg up and gently started thrusting. Her head fell back against the wall and she closed her eyes. Y/N didn't get to sit like that for long because I pulled her head back up with the belt. "Eyes on me princess." My thrusts got faster and I forced her to keep looking at me.

I was a mess. She looked so beautiful like this. I took the belt off and urgently attached my lips to hers while speeding up my thrusts some more. I reached down and started circling her clit. "Ya ever-gonna mouth off- again princess?" I said through pauses for breaths. "mmmm fuck, probably!!"

I pinched her clit. "Ow! fuck, no! I won't ever mouth off ever again daddy!" She squeezed her eyes shut as my pace quickened and I suddenly got sloppy. "Almost there princess..c'mon.." I grunt. "Oh fuck- don't stop daddy! please please please...right there" She squealed and came on my dick, nearly sending me over the edge.

"Where do ya want it princess?" My breath hitched. "In-inside.." I smirked. "Fuck..yea take my cum princess..fuck- just for you..oh shit.." I released inside of her just like she wanted. She was still recovering as my liquid shot into her.

"Sorry for mouthing off Jay, I learned my lesson, even though, no one came down here." She giggled and I chuckled. "Next time your ass is on display princess. But I am glad I fucked your little tantrum away."

[indigosunsetao3]

"Don't you dare," you warn as you roll over on the towel to look up at Gaz. He's dripping wet after having just climbed out of the water, water pooling at his feet on the bow of the boat where you have set up camp. He smirks as he flicks water at you causing you to flinch and glare at him.

"You're going to cook," he admonishes as he moves to stand next to you, blocking your sun and dripping cool salt water all over you.

"That's the goal," you answer simply as you stretch back out on your stomach. "After the last trip to the mountains and I didn't feel my toes the whole time, I deserve a little baking time."

"I'm not going to deal with you complaining about sunburn for the next four days," Gaz says with a grin as he squats down next to you.

You tilt your head back up off your hands to look at him, squinting a bit at the sun behind his head. Each droplet of water that comes off his skin onto yours is a small pinprick of cold, enough to send goosebumps along your back.

"I put on sunscreen," you scoff. "I seem to remember you taking extra care in the application," you tack on with a grin.

His hands had wandered to more than just your back where you had asked for assistance. His fingers move to slide between your breasts and down your stomach before disappearing under your bikini. You had sweat off that whole first layer within twenty minutes without even making it out into the sun.

"When you're topless I have to make sure everything is covered," he says with a grin as his hand moves to slide down your bare back. Being on a boat, alone, in the middle of nowhere afforded you a bit more freedom.

"I think you would have done it even if I wasn't topless," you reason as you push up on your elbows to look at him. You notice how his eyes narrow in on the small glimpse you're giving him between your arms in this position.

"Can't be too safe," he argues as you laugh. "At least take a break," he reasons as he looks at your slightly flushed face.

"Fine," you say as he stares at you expectantly. You push back up on your knees and can't help but grin to yourself as his eyes track every single movement. How he pushes up onto his feet and extends a hand to you, yet his eyes never leave your body as he moves. "I guess I could use something to drink," you state as you take his hand.

He's not listening. His eyes are devouring you as he yanks you up effortlessly. You aren't much better though, your eyes roving over his chest and stomach where water is still glistening on his skin. How the sunlight catches droplets emphasizing the hard lines of his stomach and the soft curve of his biceps as he pulls you closer.

You step to him easily, shivering as his cooler skin connects with your overheated body. His hands are not shy as he grabs your hips and yanks you tightly against him. You let your hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, and behind his neck, arching into him a bit.

He grins leaning down to kiss you, slowly letting his hands slide to your backside. You sigh into his mouth as he palms your behind, his fingers digging into the plush skin and tugging you to grind against him. You can feel his body reacting to yours pressing up against him, how your hot skin is like a match to his desire.

But the grin you feel against your lips is not that of need, but instead mischievous. And you know what he is about to do a split second before he does it. He had lured you in with his charm and goddamn abs like he always did; he knew your weaknesses too well.

You squeal as he picks you up effortlessly and takes two steps back to slip off the side of the boat. The fall is short but still enough to make your stomach swoop before you connect with the water. The temperature change makes you gasp into his mouth as he captures your lips again before you both sink below the surface.

Gaz keeps a tight grip on you as your feet gently collide with the soft sand. One of his hands at your back to keep you flush to him, the other on your leg. You let him guide the way as you gently hold at his neck before he kicks to propel you both back up. The water where you had anchored wasn't deep and you are back above the water a moment later.

"This is not what I had in mind," you say though you are laughing as you cling to him, kicking your legs lightly to help keep you afloat.

"Had to get you in the water somehow," Gaz answers lightly as he leans in to kiss you again. "Needed an excuse to rub you down all over again."

[bg-brainrot]

Sorry to bring the horny but what are your spicy headcanons for Astarion? (Ascended and spawn version)

No need to apologize anon-- this is a safe space for horny 🫰🏽

And ooo I haven't done any spicy headcanons before! I've only done the rogue!Tav ones before, but let me take a crack at it since I definitely have thoughts 🧐

Let's see... Spicy Astarion Headcanons w/GN!Tav (18+ Explicit warning ⚠️ all are set post-personal quest ⚠️ TW: Astarion's trauma)

Spawn Astarion

While he's not wholly comfortable engaging in intimacy for a while, he does enjoy exploring, testing out new ways to touch each other, figuring out what he likes/dislikes. There are stumbles along the way, and his healing journey is naturally not linear, but when he finds a few things he does like, the two of you are all too eager to capitalize on them.

One of those things is how much he enjoys looking into your face as you come. Whether you're in his lap, standing in front of him, laying before him-- he's finds it so much easier to stay connected and in the moment when he's looking directly into your eyes, watching you come undone to his touch.

Always a playful man, he also relishes taking his time with foreplay. Long, lingering touches, deep, kneading massages, soft, brushing lips... it's almost painful how slowly he enjoys taking his time to work you up, enjoys the same in return. But, gods, is it just as lovely.

Once he realizes how much you enjoy the sound of his voice, whispered right into your ear-- he can't stop murmuring loving little things to you. At first, you worry it's an act. After all, so were his initial sweet, honeyed words. But when he's losing all control, moaning a stuttering 'I love you' into your ear as his movements falter, you know that none of this is an act.

Despite maintaining a lot of his composure with you initially-- again, an act-- once he feels safe, comfortable in your arms, his carefully crafted composure falls to something real and a lot more sloppy. His dexterity and control seems to plummet in the heat of the moment, his fingers stumble in his eagerness. More than a few times, the two of you are left laughing, breathless as he finishes quickly or your latest exploration fails.

While he's happy to pleasure you, it takes some experimentation before he's comfortable with you reciprocating. In part because it's what he was used to, seducing targets for Cazador, but also because he's just not sure what he likes. The first time he enjoys your pleasuring him, you do it over his clothing, slowly, grinding the full length of him as he directs your hand with his.

More than anything, he needs to feel you, warm and alive, pressed against him after the fact. Sweaty, hair askew, blood usually trickling from a bite wound, he loves you most post-climax. And whether or not you'll have another go is immaterial, because, in the moment, all he wants is to drown himself in your mortality.

He never says it, but many of his favorite things are things he was never able to do in the 200 years of cruelty under Cazador. Looking into your eyes, telling you he loves you genuinely, taking his time, messing up-- all of them are new for him, ways of reclaiming his body and his sexuality.

Since beginning to re-explore his boundaries, his favorite situation together is you seated in his lap, your foreheads pressed together, your hands clutching his shoulders for support while he rolls into you, his own hands gripping your ass. When he's close, he whispers onto your lips, "Gods, you feel so good. Love, I-I can never last with you like this, can I?" When he comes, his lips meet yours, his hands wrap around your back-- as if trying to meld you to him.

Ascended Astarion

After ascending, he is eager to try out all of the new things his power affords him-- this includes his new body heat. With your own new undead form, he feels all the more alive. The first time he realizes what a thrill it is to have your cold body pressed against his heat, he can't get enough. He spends an entire day directing you to touch him, shivering in the wake of your chill touches.

And now that he can taste, he also wants to taste you-- everywhere. Not just your blood, but your sweat, your tears as you come for him. He will lap at you like a man possessed, all the while telling you how good you taste, how he would tear the hells apart for a mere drop of your release. His mouth, already such a potent drug, is relentless in its exploration of your flavors.

When it comes to the other attributes of mortal men he's received, why, his sex drive is through the roof. Every time he sees you make someone grovel before you, witnesses you exert your power, he can feel himself growing hard at the sight. More than anything, he wants to take you right then and there -- but he stills his hand, waiting until the day you're both seated on his throne.

While he doesn't go so far (yet), he makes no move to hide how he feels about you, often demanding your attention afterward with no more than a look, a finger curl, and a lick of his lips. It's a silent claim as well, showing anyone brave enough to watch whose consort you are.

As his consort, he will do everything in his power to ensure that you're taken care of. This means that, even if you think you're satisfied, Astarion will continue to tend to you, bringing you to climax after climax. It's only when you're left an utter, blubbering mess that he knows he's done enough.

He loves feeling that control over your pleasure. Above all else, he loves knowing that you, a powerful adventurer, crumble before him like anyone else. That thought drives him-- it means he fucks you often, he fucks you hard, and hells does he fuck you at a pace the gods would balk at.

As far as his own satisfaction goes, he's quite vocal about it now. He tells you exactly what he wants and when he wants it. When you stray the course, try something new, his hand is at your head, your neck, your waist-- keeping you right where he wants you.

He's also quite liberal in his praise of you, always ready to tell his beautiful consort what a pretty little mess they are for him, how lovely they feel when they clench around him, how their body could bring the very world to ruin with its perfection.

Since ascending, his new favorite situation is you on your knees, cold mouth around his cock, eyes watering, hands desperately trying to pleasure yourself, all while he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, holding your head in place, whispering down silky sweet words of encouragement, "That's it, my treasure. Yes, gods, you take me so well. More. More. Yes, just like that. Give me everything." After he spends himself into your mouth, he will always be quick to bend down for a kiss, eager to taste himself on your lips.

[astroboots]

Issue #11

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel brings you gifts.

Word count: 3,600

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

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Stark’s courier service arrives at your hotel the following day, a crew of four brawny looking men dressed in overalls, carrying in some 13 boxes of equipment, which take up the majority of the floor space of your luxury suite. 

It finds residence in the seating area of the hotel room. Fancy looking gadgets of shiny chrome and colorful LED lights that look like they were stolen from the movie set of Back to the Future. 

Miguel sets up shop, turning the pink girly vanity dressing table into an impromptu workbench. It’s where he’s been seated most of the last 36 hours, hunched over the tiny little table tinkering with the watch and various futuristic looking mechanical gears at all hours of the night. 

The laser scalpel he’s using might be soundless, but Miguel sure isn’t. Last night, you’d been constantly woken up by his growling as he trashes another expensive looking tool with an angry growl. Pacing the room for a few minutes, mumbling and complaining about the cheap quality of Stark tech and how primitive this world is. Then he's right back at it, sitting back down on the little pink velvet ottoman to continue tinkering. 

Tonight is no different. You’re in bed, scrolling your phone to unwind before going to sleep, when you hear him grumble again then stab the laser scalpel into the surface of the table. 

Peeling off the fluffy comfortable quilt wrapped around you, you make your way over to him before he destroys any more fancy furniture you can never dream of affording to replace on your modest salary. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, as you stand behind him. 

“Bastard’s tagged the thing with a receptor that feeds information about any modifications made back to him. It’s booby trapped so that if I try to remove it, the whole thing will disintegrate.”

You lean over to peer at the desk over his shoulder, observing the arc reactor that's pulsing like a beating heart with a glow of blue. 

“Does it matter? Let him have your technology.” 

In the reflection of the vanity mirror, you can see the small muscle in his jaw tic with irritation. 

“No,” he says flatly, picking up the scalpel again from where it’s wedged into the table. “We can’t risk him getting a hold of inter-dimensional technology. I don’t want Stark to be able to locate and come after you.”

Oh Jesus, not this again. 

“I already told you, I’m not interested in Tony Stark." You resist the urge to roll your eyes at part two of Miguel's unwarranted jealousy feud with Stark. Didn’t the two of you have a heartfelt conversation about this? 

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He's grinding down on his jaw with irritated anger at whatever it is he’s thinking but not sharing with you. “We can’t trust him.”

“He’s a superhero, Miguel, just like you. If we can't trust him, then I don't know who we can trust.”

Miguel's mouth pulls into a grim and tight line at your words.  For a brief moment, you think you catch a hint of fear on his face, before he breaks eye contact and turns away, back towards the bench. It takes you by surprise because you didn’t think Miguel was scared of anything. 

“Tony Stark is one of the good guys,” you try again.

You rest a hand on the edge of his shoulder, trying to help placate his unease. “He’s an Avenger, remember? It's their job to protect the world.”

It dawns on you when you hear the words from your own mouth. The reason why he doesn’t want Tony Stark to be able to keep tabs on you and come after you.

The Avengers are meant to protect the world from any threats, and right now one of the greatest threats to this world is… you.

“Oh,” the tiny sound punches out of you as a yawning pit of uncertainty and fear opens up in your stomach.

One in every 40 New Yorkers will have a run-in with Superhero in their time in the city. 

You've just always thought that, if your turn to encounter the Avengers came, it would be as a grateful civilian saved from the clutches of evil. You never thought it would be because you were the danger the world needed saving from.

Miguel must sense the moment the realization hits you, because he sets aside his tools and takes your hand, gently stroking the palm of it with his thumb.

"You have nothing to worry about, it’s just going to take some time," he murmurs, and he looks up at you with such warmth it makes the anxiety in you thaw slightly. "I'll be done with it soon.”

He eyes the arc reactor, not letting go of your hand. "Try to get some sleep."

You fall asleep to the white noise of tinkering metal and Miguel’s frustrated murmured curses. The noises should annoy you, but they don't. You find it oddly comforting, being able to hear Miguel move around in the same room as you when you’re in bed. Know with every fiber of your being that his presence means you're safe and easily drift fast asleep.

You don't know how long you stay asleep for or how much sleep you manage to catch before you feel the bed dip beside you.

"Hey," a voice softly cajoles you. There's a warm palm on your shoulder, gently nudging you awake. But you're not prepared to wake yet. Too comfortable in the haze of sleep to give it up.

You bury your head into the pillow, hoping to shut out any interference that's trying to keep you from your sleep.

"Cielito," the gentle voice tries again. "Wake up."

Grumpily and with great resistance, you strain to turn your head, squinting your eyes awake to see Miguel's face filling your vision.

It’s dark in here save for a small lamp left on in the far off corner. In this muted light, his scarlet eyes are illuminated with an otherworldly brilliance. If you had been more awake, you would have wanted to take a second or two to marvel at how beautiful they are.

"I got something for you," he says. 

There’s a barely contained eagerness in his voice as he speaks, and sleepy as you are, it peaks your interest. You blink your eyes properly open, adjusting to the dim dark to see two small boxes set next to your pillow.

"Miguel, it's..." you flick your wrist towards you, when you remember the watch is no longer there. It’s odd how naked you feel without Lyla as your constant companion on your wrist.  

You awkwardly prop yourself up on an elbow with great effort to figure out time the old fashioned way, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 

In a bright glaring LED, the digits announce: 01:00. 

Past midnight?! Has he lost his mind?

"It's one in the morning! Why are you waking me up after midnight!?"

Unbothered by your outrage, he continues to lean across you to drag one of the boxes closer.

 "I'm finally done modifying the parallel universe traversal device, so I got you something to celebrate." 

You blink up at him in surprise. When he said he’d be done soon, you didn’t think he meant tonight. 

“It’s from that place you wanted Stark to take you," he says, opening the box one-handed to reveal a gaudy looking golden donut waiting for you.

Then he drags the second box over, setting it next to the first and flips the lid open. Inside are half a dozen cinnamon-sugared donuts.

"And these are regular old donuts, from the Lower East Side for fifty cents each. We can do a comparison test. If that ugly golden donut is tastier, I’ll chop off my arm.”

You snort out a laugh. His one-sided feud with Tony Stark is alive and well you see. You don’t understand why this has become such a point of contention for him. Stark had never actually suggested he was going to get you golden donuts. 

Before you have the chance to dig in, Miguel puts out his hand, palm up, on the mattress in invitation. "Give me your hand first," he instructs.

You oblige him, placing your hand in the middle of his, and he wraps the familiar watch around your wrist. Except it’s not as familiar as you remember it to be. It’s considerably chunkier now to accommodate Stark's arc reactor that sits in the middle and if anything it looks more like a cuff bracelet than a watch.   

But you don’t mind, you’re glad to have the comforting weight of it back on your arm, wrist no longer feeling quite so naked.

“It’s bulkier than I would’ve liked. But there’s no helping how primitive Stark’s tech is,” Miguel snarks, clearly pleased with himself even though the man he’s bitching about isn’t even in the room to hear his clever insults. 

In the gloomy light, the bright blue gem of the arc reactor shines back at you like a precious jewel. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were wearing jewelry fit for royalty. 

"I like this upgrade on the watch. It’s pretty.”

"Not a watch," Miguel corrects, but he's not scolding you. The fondness in his voice is plainly there. 

Looking up you meet his eyes to see the open affection that's there for you. Your face warms under his unwavering attention, until you have to duck your head down, unable to hold his gaze anymore. 

You reach over the bed, to busy yourself, bypassing the golden donut to pick up one of the plain cinnamon ones. In the corner of your eye, you catch his lips curve into a smile as you take a large bite of the regular-non-golden donut. 

He would gloat about that, wouldn’t he, the overgrown childish brat. You grin around the mouthful, as the sugar melts onto the tip of your tongue and you moan loudly at the perfect warm cinnamon that floods your senses. 

Miguel is still smiling at you warmly, face propped in his broad hand as he watches you eat, and the heat in your face reaches an almost feverish pitch under his gaze. 

"So what's next?" you force yourself to ask him over a muffled mouthful to distract yourself. 

"Get some rest, sleep in. We'll take this for a few test drives in the morning to make sure it works the way it's supposed to, and then I'll take you to my home world."

There's a jittery sensation. A mix of exhilaration, excitement and anxiety blending with the sugar in your stomach at the unknown that waits before you. Even though you knew this day was coming since your visit at Wong, now that the time has come you're nervous. 

The only world you’ve ever known is your own. You’re hardly an intrepid traveler. During your gap year in Europe, the use of the metric system was a culture shock for you. You can't even begin to imagine what it'll be like to travel to another alternate reality.

But you’re going to have to do it—and keep doing it, if Wong is correct.

Will you need to get a whole new wardrobe to fit in with the fashion trends of each universe? Will you have to learn new languages? Will there be a thousand sets of unfamiliar customs and quirks you’ll have to learn to adapt to? 

…Will Miguel be there for any of it?

Biting down on your lip, you try to stave off the tight knot in your stomach. 

One thing that's become clear is that even if Miguel takes you to his world, you won’t be able to stay there for very long. You aren’t going to be able to stay anywhere for very long. 

Even if he intends to give you Lyla for good or build you another device that allows you to jump from world to world... what then?

Will he come with you? 

Or will you be left to travel by yourself from one unknown world to another?

The loneliness of that fate makes your stomach hurt. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you want him to come with you more than anything, but you have no right to ask that of him. Not after everything he’s already done for you. 

Like he can read your mind, Miguel gives you an appraising look.

"Once we're in Nueva York, we'll stay there for as long as it's safe," Miguel says, leaning across your lap to snag a donut from the box next to you for himself, and you try to ignore the heat that goes skittering through your leg when his arm brushes past your knee. "Then we'll jump to the next location."

You watch him scarf the cinnamony treat down in two mouthfuls, barely chewing. Your heart leaps excitedly until it jumps all the way to your throat. 

"We?"

He grins, crumbs of caramelized sugar dotted on the curve of his lips. "I can't leave you by yourself, can I?"

Your mouth opens and closes, then opens again and you leave it there, hanging in the air, probably looking incredibly dumb and speechless. 

You don’t know what to say to him. Don’t think there are adequate words in the English dictionary capable of expressing how happy it makes you to know that you’ll have him by your side. 'Thank you' seems incredibly lacking.

Somehow despite that you are both sitting down, he still dwarfs you and from your seated position you barely come up to his shoulders. You don’t quite know why you do it, but you move before you think, getting to your knees to lean up and place a small kiss on his cheek. 

A faint pink tinges his cheeks at the small contact. Then it’s his turn to duck down. He scoots over, bringing the smaller donut box closer to you. 

"Eat your golden donut," he says.

You peer up at him. The way his mouth pulls into a tiny and almost shy smile, and happiness buzzes in your chest at the sight.

A dopey smile spreads across your cheeks as you watch him. The way he rubs one broad hand over his jaw to hide his reddening face from you.

Taking the box from him, you look down at the shiny pastry. If your words are failing you, maybe food can speak for you instead. You pick up the golden donut in your hand and hold it out to him.

“You go first,” you offer.

There’s not a second of hesitation from Miguel. He leans down and takes a large bite of the gilded pastry, fangs first, puncturing the soft, squishy dough. 

The whole thing bursts, and you squeal with laughter as the champagne flavored jelly filling squirts across his bottom lip, onto your fingers and drips onto the sheets below. 

“Miguel, you’re making a complete mess!”

You lick up the sticky jam from your fingers as you watch him. There’s dust of gold smudging against his cheeks and even on his nose as he takes another bite. You’re tittering with amusement at the sight of him. 

“Here you got some–” you bring your thumb to help him wipe at the corner of his mouth.

For a man who doesn’t like casual touches, sneering even at the idea of handshakes as a greeting at work, he doesn’t seem to mind yours.

Miguel lets you rub off the flecks of gold from his cheek, eyes dropping half-closed in contentment. His jaw moves under your hand as his mouth drops open, then he presses his lips to the inside of your palm. 

It’s a barely there touch, but it has warmth furl from the middle of your stomach and blooms outward, spreading to the rest of you. 

In this gigantic Wyoming king-sized bed, Miguel is seated close enough to you that your knees touch. He’s close. So close that you can feel the heat rolling off of his big body.

Somehow that's not close enough, because you close the remaining distance between you, until your knee is pressed against the firm inside of his thigh, his broad shoulders brush against yours. 

It wouldn’t take much now. If you leaned up at this moment. If you tilted your head upwards even slightly. Your lips would be on his.  

You shouldn’t, the small voice in your head warns. Kissing him is probably not a good idea.

He might not feel the same. Kissing him might change something irreparably between you, and then who will you travel the outer limits of the universe with? 

But... if you're going to die tomorrow or the next day or next week, then what does it all matter anyhow? What’s a little bit of rejection when the end of the world is hiding right behind the next corner. 

You tilt up and press your lips to his top lip, then the full lower one. It’s chaste and brief, and only lasts for a second. But for a first time it’s familiar and intimate in a way that it can only be with you and Miguel. 

His lips are warm and dry and slightly open under the press of yours and it sends a fluttering warmth from the tip of your nose to the end of your fingertips. 

You pull back with the tiniest movement, nose still brushing against his, as you gather the courage to look up at his face and try to find out if you just made a terrible mistake. 

Those scarlet eyes are staring down at you in that familiar way you catch him doing sometimes. When he thinks you're not paying attention to him and his eyes lingers on your face.

His thumb catches behind your ear, face inching closer, and then he’s kissing you back. It’s sweet and electric, the sensation surges through you with a giddiness that makes your toes curl. 

Miguel presses his lips to yours and holds you there. Long consecutive kisses that don't let you pull up for air. His other hand gently cups your face, thumb stroking the apple of your cheeks like you’re the most precious thing his big hands has ever held. 

You want this to last, that it could always be like this. You want it to be you and him. 

This man who brings you cupcakes when you’re crying. Who saves you the best portion of the food that he likes even though he’s a glutton. Who folds you paper flowers and leaves them on your desk to make you smile when you’re having a bad day at work. A man who stays by your side through the end of the world and never asks you for anything in return.

You love him. 

One large hand covers the back of your neck. He tilts you back, like he’s trying to shield and protect you as he holds you. Holds you like he’s never going to let go. 

Then he stops. 

Why is he stopping? 

He stiffens above you, the whole of his back tensing. You chase his lips but he is already pulling back and away from you. 

Your eyes open to the muted darkness of the room. 

In front of you, Miguel is looking at you with an expression you can't pin down. Eyes wide, and distracted. For a terrifying moment, you think that the look on his face is one of regret. 

Maybe he realized he doesn’t feel that way about you after all. Maybe he's trying to find a way to let you down gently.

You pull back and study his face.

No… it’s not that. 

His expression is the same distant look he had two seconds before a helicopter crashed into your apartment. The same tension in his eyes that will have him hauling you into his arms to protect you from a rogue vehicle. The same pinch in his brow when he’ll stop a conversation with you mid-sentence because the ceiling is about to cave in and he needs to push you out of harm’s way. 

Something is wrong. 

A cold sliver of fear crawls up your spine as Miguel’s face turns, and he stares into the empty space of the room beyond the bed. 

There’s speck of pink spilling onto the sheets on your lap like the color of the sun on stained glass from the outside. 

You follow his gaze in the direction of the radiant dusk pouring in from the window. 

It’s too bright for one A.M, enough to be blinding. 

Pulling away the quilt from your body, you slide out of bed and walk towards the brightness pouring in from the outside until you’re standing in front of the wide glass panes of the balcony.

You look up at the sky, and it’s not the familiar calm midnight-blue. There are vivid streaks of fluorescent pink and glowing purple staining the sky. There are fractures in the sky like someone took a sledge hammer to it and cracked it wide open.

The cityscape looks like it is folding onto itself. Skyscrapers, bridges, and streets are contorted and warped like badly-folded origami. The impossible architecture reminds you of a M.C Escher painting you saw on a school trip at MoMA as a child.

Outside, the pavements of New York is mirrored where the sky is supposed to be. Silhouettes of skyscrapers spring out from below and above and the vast sky is wedged between. Up is down and down is up and nothing makes sense anymore. 

You've seen this scene take place before, when you were under Wong's multidimensional spell.

Your universe is starting to collapse. 

The end of the world is here. You’ve officially run out of time. 

~ Next Issue

Dedications & Credits:

To @guruan for her endless kindness and incredibly talented. I cannot thank her enough for the art she gifts me with that constantly inspires my little squirrel brain and drives me to write like I am possessed.

And @thirstworldproblemss my babe, my bestie, my moose! Thank you for always being there with your pretty face!! I adore and love you, our friendship and time together brings me endless joy. Thank you for going on this ride with me.

[wickedscribbles]

if i get too loud you can shut my mouth ch. 3

Masterlist Ch. 1, Ch. 2 The Poolverine Playlist Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: dry humping, rough/violent sex, violence (but they're into it), tenderness, dirty talk, choking, flirting, biting, enthusiastic consent, anal fingering, anal sex, creampie 😌

Word Count: 2.7K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Getting fucked in a drying puddle of his own blood would not have been a first. It wouldn't have been a problem, either.

Wade's so eager to keep going that he just flings the sheets off regardless, pillows hitting the floor and almost knocking his lamp off the nightstand. Almost a shame to replace them; with any luck they'll end up just as messy as this first set did.

They don't say anything as Wade shuffles through his closet to fetch the spare set of bedclothes, trying not to let Logan see that it's shoved to the brim with clutter.

It all feels surreal. Like he's on the best kind of trip, everything all slow motion and floaty. Taking a ride on the Wolverine’s disco stick had always been a fantasy, sure. But now that it's about to happen, Wade has a feeling that the wet dreams won't compare.

He's fucking nervous, even with the taste of Logan's come still fresh on his tongue.

When the sheets are replaced, he slides back onto the mattress, satisfied when Logan settles himself on top with a quiet sound of want. His lips miss Wade's own the first time around, teeth nipping a little at his cheek before they're kissing again – slower this time.

It's surprising how differently Logan touches him now that they've gotten the first round out of the way. One of his hands cradles the back of Wade's head. Gentleness where it hadn't been apparent before, Logan's mouth working over his like it wants to take the time to know him. Own him.

He can also feel his lungs slowly getting crushed under the weight of Logan's metal skeleton. (Metal skeleton, what sick fuck does that to a guy? Then again, Wade has his own baggage he's not exactly willing to unpack.)

Three solid whacks to the back get Logan's attention, and as he lifts up, Wade heaves in a relieved breath.

“Scoot a bit,” he says after blinking the stars away. “I love a little breathplay as much as the next guy, but I can't be the fucked out little butt slut we both want me to be if I'm unconscious.”

“But you'd be quiet,” Logan quips back, even as he shifts his weight further so that Wade isn't taking any of it. He does, however, get the warmth, the smell of him, the consistent thump of his heartbeat.

A quick glance up reveals that Logan is grinning a little.

Wade gasps, feigning shock. Reveling in their little flirty game, even as his cock whines and begs for them to just get back to the good shit. Currently it's lodged against Logan's inner thigh, which is delicious in and of itself, but he's never been the most patient boy.

“My good sir!” He takes on a posh British accent. “Are you saying that you would desecrate me, without my complete and enthusiastic consent?”

Logan kisses him again, faster now, letting his mouth trail down to Wade's neck, and oh. He can't help but arch into that, his thoughts of sexy banter cast aside for a moment as the other man's hot breath touches his skin.

“I'm saying you're more talk than action, bub,” Logan says, his voice no louder than a whisper. Sexy and growly right in his ear now, and Wade shivers in answer, grinding his cock into Logan's leg. “I think you'd let me know if you weren't enjoying yourself. Right?”

“Right,” Wade practically moans as Logan's mouth opens, a wet sound he can feel and hear.

His tongue traces the shape of Wade's ear for just a moment before sharp canines dig into the cartilage – not sharp enough to break the skin but sharp enough to make him tilt his head back in an effort to get more.

“Fuck yeah, big guy, of course I would, I keep it safe sane and consensual – or at least consensual –”

“Ha.”

Wade's glad that he thought it was funny. He can't really think at all anymore aside from how good Logan's mouth feels as it travels back and forth on his neck.

“Fuck! S’good, really sensitive – keep going,” he hears himself slur out as Logan bites down hard.

Logan groans in answer, grinding his cock against Wade's, and it's maybe the most gratifying thing on the planet to know that this is turning him on just as much.

Something wet runs down the side of his neck, and Logan's tongue is quick to catch it, warm against his skin. Doubtless that there are endless wires crossed in Wade's brain right now, but the knowledge that Logan is biting him hard enough to break the skin and then licking at the blood that wells from the bite is pushing Wade to his fucking edge.

The a la carte is letting his hands roam Logan's (gorgeous) back and ass to their heart's content, and it only seems to spur him on. Every deep press of their hips together becomes just as hungry as when they'd done it against the wall, building and building until Wade starts to recognize that undeniable pressure. He really could come like this, again – ad infinitum, really.

The bed protests underneath them, squeaking and groaning like it wants to collapse. Logan ignores it, dragging his teeth across Wade's sensitive collarbone and neck, the kisses becoming more quick and frantic as he clearly gets close to finishing again too.

“Fuck – Red, you feel – so good,” he manages. “Wanna – make a mess of you.”

Wade isn't sure what's turning him on more; feeling their dicks rubbing together in a mix of sweat and neediness, or the way Logan's breath now comes in shallow pants, his composure peeling away again.

(Is it bad to secretly hope he gets speared through again? Yeah. Probably, yeah.)

“Would feel better if you fucked me,” Wade answers, leaving any and all inhibitions behind. No point in being shy now, is there?

He doubles down when he hears Logan's breath catch, one hip hitching to press deeper into Wade's thigh.

“Logan, god, fuck me, please, get the fuck inside me –”

Logan pulls back to look at him, eyes intense and passionate. Searching his face but full of sexual desire. God, this is just like The Notebook.

“Where's your, uh –?”

“I don't want it.”

The look lingers for only a few seconds before Logan nods. Trusting him to be able to take it. Instead of protesting further about lube or lack thereof, he takes the time to strip out of the rest of his clothes, dropping the flannel and tshirt to the bedroom floor.

“Wow,” Wade says with quiet reverence, turning to look at the readers. “We finally got there. The abs are out, guys. Start jerking or get your vibrators ready. It's about to be a 9.5 on the Wet Pussy Scale.”

One hand slides up his bare ass. “Pretty sure that's not what we're working with here.”

“It can be wh–atever you want it to be, sweetheart.”

Wade jumps a little as two rough, thick fingers swirl around his hole, pressing in ever so slightly. Logan peers up at him from between his spread legs, gauging his reaction with the gentlest look of concentration and need on his face.

It stirs something in Wade that he can't quite name, or more accurately won't. All he knows is that the way Logan is looking at him feels more vulnerable than having fingers pressed into his ass, and at this very specific moment in time he knows which he'd prefer over the other. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about what this’ll mean – he only wants to know how it’ll feel. Later, they can talk it all out.

At least, he hopes.

It's delicate work, for a time. Nothing makes a sound except the way they move together, Wade’s breath hitching as Logan presses in deeper, experimenting with reactions to shallow thrusts.

“You’re quiet,” Logan comments. “Give me something to go off of, Mouth. What do you want? More? Less?”

Shit, he’s right. Very OOC of him.

“It’s been a minute since I’ve been the glove and not the hand is all.” Wade wriggles a little, getting flatter on the mattress, breath hitching as the movement presses Logan’s fingers deeper inside him. “Nine times out of ten, I’m pitching. But it – fuck! – feels great, peanut, you’re doing great –”

Those were the magic words Logan was looking for. With a pleased hum, he curls his fingers deep into Wade’s ass, a full push that has Wade curling his toes. The sting is just an afterthought as he focuses on the very deliberate way Logan pulls out, then pushes right back in again, setting a rhythm that he’s pressing himself up into without even fully realizing at first.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Wade pants. “More of that, just, if you – hah – go a little higher –”

Panting every bit as fast as Wade is, Logan adjusts in a heartbeat, nailing that spot, making Wade cry out in a way that can only be described as slutty. He feels teeth dig into his knee, warm breath and lips and kisses, eager on the skin they can reach. A glance down reveals those mussed cowlicks he’s wanted to run his fingers through for months now, Logan’s forehead, his eyes laser focused on the way Wade’s body is taking him. As if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, the most important view.

Marvel H. Christ.

“If you don’t fuck me within the next five minutes, then please stab me through the head so I can forget how bad I need this for a second while my brain regenerates.”

A quiet scoff of a laugh. “If you’re ready, then I’m ready.”

“Buddy, a glory hole couldn’t be more ready than me right now.”

Logan rises over him like a wave, their naked bodies flush. Wade can feel the head of his cock right at his hole – he hooks a leg over Logan’s waist, and the clue is taken.

Wade gazes up at him as Logan works his way in, and though Logan’s concentration is on easing inside him, Wade can only stare dumbly at the other man’s face like nothing else exists. Like everything has narrowed down to a fine point until there’s only this sensation.

If Logan had felt big in his mouth, then he definitely feels big in Wade’s ass. The stretch is slow, deliberate, though it’s clear from the downright pornographic look on Logan’s face that he wants to push in and just fucking have him. What was it he’d said? Make a mess of him.

Even though he’s ninety-nine point-six-eight percent sure that his mouth is hanging open like a goddamned idiot, Wade can’t bring himself to move. Because Logan’s hips are touching the curve of his bare ass as he bottoms out, and he’s making the most gorgeous face Wade thinks he’s ever seen in his life. Shit, he’s half-sure he could come just from looking at the man.

“Gonna move now,” Logan tells him, reaching to brush his thumb over Wade’s cheek. So fucking sweet, in the midst of what they're about to do.

“You better.”

He had hoped the reply would come out confident, but they both know it sounds punched out and breathless.

Still watching him with that same mix of need and openness, Logan rolls his hips in one long, slow, agonizing motion. Then again, again, again, and by some miracle, he’s being fucked deep and gentle.

They both moan at the same time, the sound low in Logan’s throat as his eyes flutter shut.

“Wade,” he says, and something about hearing the single syllable of his name from the man’s mouth has Wade thrusting back, needing more, now.

“That is, unfortunately, my name,” comes Wade’s answer, trying and failing to find something wittier to say back. His mind is on fire with all the feel-good chemicals, body on autopilot, everything going into the rhythm he and Logan are setting together. “Bestowed upon me. By my mother. In the – f-fuck – yearofourlordnineteeneightysi–”

Then Logan’s hand travels smoothly back down to his throat, threatening to squeeze, and Wade’s cock jerks hard against his stomach.

Huffing out another quiet laugh – a thousand times hotter when he’s balls deep, fucking Wade with some freakish reserves of control – Logan smirks down at him.

“This how you want it?”

The grip tightens. Tighter, tighter, until Wade can’t draw in a breath. Logan keeps him there for a few floaty seconds, spots forming in his vision, before releasing him again.

“How I need it,” Wade gasps when he can. “Harder. Meaner, you know I can take it.”

“Oh, you want mean?” He raises an eyebrow at that, the cute little smirk widening into a wolfish grin. “I think I can manage that.”

Fuck yeah you can, Wade wants to quip back, but he never gets the words out. He's being maneuvered so that his knee dangles over Logan's shoulder, opened wider as Logan thrusts in harder. Deeper. Desperate nails dig into Wade's skin, and again part of him wonders if he's about to see this big kitty's claws.

With some sort of sound between a whine and a growl, Logan lays into him like he couldn't possibly hold himself back a second longer.

“Oh, fuck, Wade.”

Thank whatever deity is watching over them right now that he doesn't live with Blind Al anymore, because this would not have gone over well. The mattress is practically howling its complaints now, the frame threatening to buckle underneath them as Wade gets fucked hard enough to punch the air from his lungs with every thrust.

It doesn’t take long for it to finally throw in the towel. One of the bedframe’s spindly legs gives out with a screech, pitching them to the side. Neither of them stops to give a damn, though Dogpool barks once from the living room in what can only be described as mild concern.

Hand trembling, Wade reaches for his cock, unable to stand it anymore. He has to come, now. Logan notices immediately and slaps his hand away.

“Yeah, no. That’s my job.”

He replaces Wade’s fingers with his own, the grip tight. The stern rhythm makes Wade whine, boneless. Judging from the evidence he’d gathered not long before this, Logan’s right on the brink of coming again. Cocaine’s starting to look like powdered sugar compared to the way he looks when he’s right there, fighting not to be loud, wrenching his hips for all he’s worth, pupils blown out and, and –

“Oh, shit, oh for fuck’s fucking sake, peanut –!”

Wade is half-aware that he’s saying something. More aware that it’s complete nonsense. Very, very cognizant of the orgasm tearing its way up and out of his dick, coating Logan’s hand and beautiful skin. Logan moans with him, a soft sound that betrays his need all the same, and tilts his head back just as he presses deep into Wade one last time.

God, he can feel it. Logan absolutely fills him with come, chest heaving and thighs trembling, like some symbol of eroticism and beauty made just for Wade to stare at. The soft little gasps and growls that follow in the aftershocks make Wade want to flip him over and fuck him senseless for hours. Days. The rest of his life.

But Logan slowly pulls out of him, blinking back to himself. Come leaks out of Wade’s hole as he does–kind of unavoidable with how stretched and loose he is–but Wade can’t bring himself to care. Another set of sheets to wash is worth what they’ve done, he thinks.

“Five…fucking…stars,” Wade says as they untangle from each other. (His face hurts. He soon realizes it’s because he’s beaming like a lesbian at a women’s soccer match.) “I mean, bravo, sweetheart, Jesus. I’m not gonna lie – I thought I had you pegged as a power bottom – but we love a man with range.”

Giving a vague sort of hum in response, Logan’s already on his feet, hand on the bedroom doorknob.

Even though Wade’s brain is fast and his mouth is faster, Logan slips away before he can get out another word, leaving him alone with a soft click of the closing door.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 1/?

STORY 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26, PART 27, UPDATE

We're finally here! I hope this sequel makes you feel the same excitement the first one gave you. I know I'm excited.

To the new readers, please read STORY 1 first for better understanding of how we got to this point. Trust me, it's important plus! It's a pretty awesome prequel if I do say so myself.

To the readers who have been there since I posted part 1, I hope I make you proud too!

Let's go!

HOOK: A LUCIFER CENTRIC AU - AO3

-------------------------------------------

Previously:

A powerful explosion lit up the sky. The sky split in two and fire appeared high and wide over Pride. At that moment, everyone became so hot that they couldn't bear it, as if their whole body was on fire. They wanted to rip their skin off just to get a sense of relief but then the sky shut closed. A strong thump was heard by every demon in the vicinity and then they were all thrown a few meters.

It felt like an eternity before Charlie and the others could get their bearings. Those that didn't get knocked out went outside, once there, they see Lucifer far up in the sky, holding up a flaming sword. The signature pentagram of the city has been fractured by whatever happened and demons all around were either hurt or unconscious.

Charlie: Dad!

Charlie calls out to her dad but he doesn't acknowledge her. His gaze never leaving Heaven, as if he's seeing something that no one else can.

A screen locked on Hell zooms out as the machine's voice rang out 'target disengaged'.

An angel looking similarly to Lucifer, except there's blue tints on the spots where Lucifer had reds, was looking down at Hell pulling back a large, golden gun. They blew the smoke residue and sighed.

Michael: Hello, Lucifer... Still causing trouble, I see.

----------------------------------------

Lucifer lands on the now burnt soil of Pride trying to keep his composure calm as those who were not knocked out by the blast panic once again.

His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles strained against the skin, teeth grinding together like stones. He tightens his grip on Lightbringer, knuckles whitening.

'Damn it, Michael!'

In his pure anger, his body moves on its own. Lucifer swung his arm back, Lightbringer's flames tracing a graceful arc through the air. He pivots his back foot and-

How dare Michael! How dare he attack Hell, endanger his home, his family, HIS DAUGHTER!

Before he could launch his sword at Heaven, at Michael, in retaliation, a mass of assorted colors grabs his arms and blocks his view.

It was the Sins.

Lucifer: Let go.

Lucifer lets out a wave of power, they faltered a bit but none released their hold or moved.

Satan: We- shit! We can't do that.

Mammon: Mate, don't do something I would definitely do.

Asmodeus: Stop, Lucifer. this will only make things worse. We'll come up with a plan but we can't afford setting off a war right now!

They're trying to reason with their King but Lucifer's eyes are still looking through them.

Lucifer: I'm not the one who started this.

Beelzebub: We know, babe! But! You're getting pissed off more than Satan over here on a normal day. It's not a cute look.

Satan: Hey!

Belphegor: Ozzie is right.

Leviathan: Calm down, Luci.

He was about to shake them off and continue what he was about to do until-

Charlie: Dad!

And just like that Lucifer's anger recedes. He slumps a little into the Sins' holds and calls back Lightbringer.

Charlie and the hotel residents were the first to reach him, he can feel his daughter's hands all over him checking for any injuries as the others worry about what happened. And what the fuck was that?? Was that Heaven??

He was about to say something when they were suddenly blinded by flashes and a bunch microphones being shoved at his face. His family were screaming obscenities for the press to back the fuck up.

'How did they get here so fast?'

Reporter 1: -Your Majesty! Can you tell us what was that??

Reporter 2: -Lucifer, over here! Was that a direct attack from Heaven?

Reporter 3: -Does it have anything to do with what happened in Sloth?

Reporter 4: -Lucifer! Lucifer! Does this mean a war with Heaven is about to happen??

Reporter 5: -Sire, the Pentagram symbol above is destroyed! Is that a barrier? If so, do we not have any protection against Heaven anymore?

Reporter 6: -Are you any match for Heaven's higher forces?

Questions after questions. It doesn't stop even with the threat of the Sins.

'Too loud. Too noisy. ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutup SHUT UP!'

He looks directly at the group vultures, letting Roo's attributes surface more.

Lucifer: Fall.

The noise stops and the next moment the demons around them fell to the ground fast asleep.

Not even Charlie berated him for using that ability against their will.

Lucifer: Alright. Why don't we talk inside?

------------------------------------------------

I feel like the start of my AUs are always short but I hope y'all will support me again 'til the end!

Read STORY 1 here!

[propertyofkylar]

beach date with kylar but you wear the skimpiest bikini known to man so he has to forcibly shield you with his own body and stolen beach towels. once you get back to his manor you can roam freely though!!! please please please sit in his lap

"Kylar, I'm ready!"

You strolled out of the changing room after tying up your bikini top with a big smile on your face. Kylar was leaning against the wall waiting for you. But when he turned to you, his own smile quickly disappeared.

"Wh-what are you wearing?" His eyes were wide and his hands dropped to cover the front of his swim trunks.

You frowned. "A bikini...?"

Kylar gulped. "Yeah, but..." His eyes ran over your body as he searched for the right words. "It's so small!"

"My school swimsuit got torn and this was the only one I could afford," you said, lightly tugging at your waistband. "I think my tits have gotten bigger too..."

Kylar's face went red and he quickly stood in front of you, grabbing his towel to cover your back. "You can't let people see you like this!" He whispered. "They'll-they'll think lewd things about you!"

Honestly, you weren't sure why he was so worked up. "Kylar, it's a beach. I think most people here are dressed similarly."

He simply shook his head and moved closer to you. "You shouldn't let perverts see you. It's not safe," he mumbled. But when you felt his erection press against your thigh, it made you smile.

"Aw, are you jealous?" You teased, and he blushed harder.

"W-well...i-it's just that...people are terrible!" He said. "They'll get the wrong idea about you a-and...you don't know what they might try to do to you!"

"But you'll protect me, right?" You leaned in and whispered into his ear. You heard him swallow and subconsciously grind his hips forward.

"O-of course," he whimpered. "I would do anything to keep you safe, m-my love!"

You grinned, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Why don't we skip the beach and go back to your place? That way, only you'll get to see me like this..."

Kylar almost tripped with how quickly he tried to leave, but looked back in confusion when you didn't move.

"We still need to grab our clothes, you know..." you pointed out. He flushed again.

"Right..."

[quimichi]

HEY. can i maybe possibly get some mika smut... it can be literally anything, there's so little content of him that i can't afford to be picky 😭

thank you in advance !!

↳ ❝ [SOME TIME SPEND WITH MIKA] ¡!

warnings: porn without plot, grinding, open start open ending idk, switch!Mika and reader

summary: a little quality private time with your favorite ♡

characters: Aged up!Mika x Creator!Reader

word count: 483

a/n: i 100% no Mika content is out there, its sad cause he's such a little cutie ♡ i remember when i started playing genshin a few months ago he was one of my first pulls, i was so happy and played him a looot

Leaning down, pressing your lips against his once more, and again...and again, like you have been the past hour. A small gasp slipping from your lips when his hands slip up your shirt. He has grown to be more daring over the past years with you. He was always fixated on touching you, but his favorite time was just like this. Hands sliding between you and your clothes, greedily taking in every soft shiver as he moved his fingers against your skin. Exploring your body like a new landscape.

A soft whine fell from Mika’s lips when you pressing yourself further into him. He was already hard; it really didn’t take much.

Maybe he was just a little bit sensitive, but he couldn’t really act like he isn't. Not around you. Not when he had already told you he only wanted to be with you, forever. That was a few months ago, but you seemed so content in keeping it this way; he didn’t want to change that. You always wore a soft expression when he caught you looking at him. He was aware he was your one and only favorite. He wasn’t sure if it was from you two being so close for so many years, or if you were really starting to feel something else for him. 

But he would've never risked it...telling you how he feels. In the end, you were the one who confessed first. “Fuck.” His voice was already shaky, and you took notice of it. You didn't expect him to be this needy already. You grind your hips against him, shifting so you could press into his aching cock even more.

“What’s wrong, Mika?” you innocently ask, the audacity you have, but you know exactly what he wants. You learned over these past few months what he was like when he wanted you, needed you. It was something you found pride in, being able to read him like an open book. “Speak up” you tease.

“Why do you always tease me.”

“Cause its to easy.” you grin against his lips.

It wasn’t long after that where you found yourself pinned under him. The softness of your silky bed gave you comfort as you stared up into his hungry eyes. Hair falling into his eyes, he looked so perfect. So pretty. So different from what you're used to.

You took advantage of these moments, when he was completely yours and you were his  He’d let you do anything you wanted to him... Whatever you asked, he’d give in like it was his nature. And that goes for you too, he'd just have to ask and you'd do what he said.

“Mika...” You were breathless again, the look in his eyes making it hard to focus on anything else than him.

“Hm?” His breath was hot on your neck again. He leaned down lips run lightly down your jaw....

♡ TAGLIST ♡

@junejunejun

[dairy-farmer]

Bruce is sad that he shares no biological connections with most of his family. One way to solve this is if they all had a child each with the same person (insane Bruce logic). Then they would all be related through their children.

The only obstacle is figuring out how to contrive enough scenarios for each family member (including alfred of course) to shoot their load into Tim's virgin womb.

The family could be in on it, but it would be interesting if Bruce had to manipulate everyone seperately into the specific circumstances that they would even consider fucking Tim. Doing sex-pollen every time would be too suspicious.

Maybe Bruce will orchestrate someone coming across Tim in a predicament bondage type of situation (like being stuck in a wall or a washing machine), where the person is tempted with the chance to use Tim seemingly without consequences.

Maybe a situation where someone runs into Tim while they are both undercover, and they get pressured into fucking.

Or them mistaking him for a hot girl (or at least having that plausible deniability) in a club where Bruce knows they go to blow off steam. The club is dark. Maybe Tim cant tell who they are, but regardless he can't afford to draw attention to his cover by kicking up a fuss. Not even when the grinding escalates into the other man sneaking his cock under the skirt of Tim's very short dress, feeding it into his pussy and thrusting up to the beat of the music. He has a deathgrip on Tim's hips, and Tim can't even protest more subtly because the man is thouroughly fucking his tongue down Tim's throat.

Ooor the classic Tim gets caught and auctioned off to villains, and someone has to pretend to buy him and give the crowd a "demonstration"

This could be a very long con that repeats every time Tim tries to get back into vigilante work after a pregnancy. Though Tim carrying several noncon babies from different fathers would be really hot. It could be omegaverse...... but maybe Bruce got his hands on the cutting edge of fertility drugs that causes ovulation every time Tim is fucked.

Tim's belly would get so huge he would be bedbound. And with so many children he would have to move back home anyways for support. Bruce wants his big family, and he does nothing half way.

!!!! bruce would 100% use underhanded methods to get his 'revived' wayne line back and genetically link all of them together! i also love the idea of maybe him essentially causing tim to fall into a pyschosis with all his noncon pregnancies. bruce using hypnosis to convince tim to keep and raise the babies, drugging and manipulating him into the situations to get him pregnant again. eventually leading to tim believing that all those time's he got pregnant weren't really noncon, that all those things happened to him again and again were because, subconsciously, he wanted it.

just bruce being so happy and proud of himself mean while tim is slowly falling into a mindbroken state as a result 👀