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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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yieldtotemptation · 27 days ago

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PROFESSIONAL ft. Bae

bae x male reader smut

8k words

For those keeping score at home, Bae Jinsol does appear to have the upper hand.

Not just because of who she is—the looks, the celebrity, the whole perfect package of it all; that's a dime a dozen in your line of work.

It’s how she haunts you.

The messages she leaves on your phone. The way she says your name.

The photos.

So, yeah. Despite the fact that you’re ostensibly just her personal trainer, and therefore, ipso facto, the ‘one in charge’; it’s becoming all too apparent that the balance of power in your relationship with Bae is, well, to put it simply, not exactly professional.

Which makes it no surprise that even though you’re at the gym a half-hour early; a black coffee in hand, ready to chase the one already running through your veins—she’s already there.

Stretched out like a cobra; hips to the ground, back arched, chest high.

Her reflection in the mirror greets you with a knowing smile.

Unsurprised. Unbothered.

Like she's been waiting for this—planned it all out. Down to the exact second that you’d walk in, discovering her in the centre of your private gym, splayed out in a pose chosen specifically to make you feel like you're intruding on something intimate.

Showing off the sharp planes of her abs, the muscles of her legs, the curve of her ass, and that dangerous strip of skin that makes you want to—

"Looks like I beat you again, sir."

You swallow. You somewhat regret giving her a personal key.

“Just getting warmed up.” Bae slithers out of the stretch, sinewy and fluid, turning over and around so she can properly face you; so she can properly present herself to you.

A glance—a gawk, really—has you rethinking your earlier assessment. Most of your clients are a dime a dozen. But Bae, looking at you, looking like that. Gorgeous, fit, unattainable yet somehow within your reach and daring you to do something about it—she’s a whole other currency.

She's been here for a while now, you can tell. Beads of sweat have started to slick her skin; over her brow, down her neck, pooling at the crevices of her collarbones. And the show she makes of wiping across her throat with the back of her hand, leaving a glossy sheen.

You ponder licking it off.

Long enough for her to catch you being unprofessional, again. To her credit, Bae just hums a note of amusement, gracious enough to let the moment pass as if it never even happened.

“You don’t need to do that,” you say, which could really be in reference to anything at this point. “We’ve got one hour. Warm-up included.”

“I know,” Bae answers, revisiting a long-standing argument, "But I like to be ready."

“Ready,” you echo, tasting the sound of the word on your own tongue.

“So that we can make the most of our time together,” She continues, twirling a peroxide-blonde curl around her finger, stirring up entirely inappropriate images of Bae, and her hair, and your hands, and oh God. "I only have you for one measly little hour, after all."

She lets the implication hang in the air, planting her flag (bright red, of course). It gives you an opportunity to take a long sip of your coffee; the burn from it sliding down your throat a welcome distraction.

You clear it with a cough.

"Well," you say, setting your mug aside and putting on the face of someone who isn’t severely compromised by Bae's casual, shameless attempts at whittling down your resolve. "Let’s not waste any of those precious minutes."

There's this grin on her face, as endearing as it is infuriating; and you can already hear the reply she’ll make before it comes, the way she’ll twist your honest words into lurid innuendo. Something with enough plausible deniability to keep it from crossing any lines of proper decorum you’ve tried to set, but pointed enough to blur them.

Something like—"Oh, I plan on making every second count."

You emphasise, “Exercising.”

Bae plays along, “What else would we be doing?”

More of this game, presumably.

The one you've been playing for the entire month you've known her, this routine you've established—you trying to keep things on track, do the job you’re actually being paid by her company to do; and Bae pushing back, pushing you as far as she can.

Trying, hoping, to inevitably bring you to that point where you break, where your veneer of professionalism finally slips away and you give her the type of workout she really wants.

You really should know better.

Should know to ignore the innocent requests to 'help stretch her out' or 'massage this cramp in her thigh'. Should know not to indulge the flirty banter; the 'oh, you're so much stronger than me', or worse yet, the blatant, 'but I bet you're not as flexible.'

You should have never let your hands linger, held her close when she asked you to correct her form, taken your time to navigate the curve of her hip, the small of her back, the slope of her legs.

Definitely should not have given her your personal number. Fuck, you should have blocked hers. Not read any messages, not even dreamed of replying. Not opened the photos, not fucking saved them and revisited them night after night after night.

(Because ultimately, the main party at fault is you.

After that first time, that first session; when you excused all the innuendo as coincidence, pretended the flirtations, the touching was just down to Bae being her normal, bubbly, extroverted self.

And then, when she convinced you to come into the shower because she just couldn’t seem to get the hot water to work, well—

Yeah.

Somewhere between making her moan your name and fucking her into the tile walls; you really, really should have known better.)

But today—today won’t be the day you give in.

The first time was a one-off, a fleeting lapse in judgment. Won't happen again.

You’re the trainer. She’s the client.

You have your clipboard, and your workout plan.

And Bae…

Bae’s biting her lip; blushing at you like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

“So, how do you want me, sir?”

(Bent over, on top, pinned underneath, from behind—you could fill the whole session with your long list of answers; but none of those are on the clipboard.)

You fight the urge to laugh, or scream, or maybe just drop to your knees and surrender.

Instead, you reproach, “Bae.”

“Sir.”

Laying it on thick; the innocence, the arrogance, the knowing in those doe eyes. Something she said to you once rattles in your mind: "Everybody needs an outlet, don't you think?"

Bae swings her legs around, tucking them under her so she’s on her knees. She’s looking up at you, those wide eyes and that even wider smile, sizing up every inch of you through her long lashes.

"I know what you're doing," you try, but it's not enough. Knowing is only half the battle.

"You do?" Bae's playing coy, keeping her tone light and breezy. "And here I thought I was just trying to be a good student."

A finger on her thigh, to dance along the hem of her shorts, peel it back just slightly, only to let it snap back into place.

“Clock’s ticking.”

There's a correct response here, you think, one that keeps you both on the straight and narrow. Not that you get a chance to find it, because Bae's leaning forward, placing her hands behind her back, pushing out her chest and arching her spine just so.

Her top stretches over her, a sports bra that’s somehow both modest and obscenely revealing; clinging to her—she’s filling it out, her nipples poking through like two little darts, demanding your attention.

She tilts her head, smirks, and it hits you like a sucker punch.

That’s the pose.

You’ve seen it; it’s been seared into your brain. The centrepiece of a photo that she so casually sent you in the middle of the day, just to ‘get your opinion on her progress’.

(Only then, all she had on was her smile.)

A sigh, because you know—this is it.

The last exit off the highway, the last chance to say no, to keep things strictly above board and not let this get any more complicated than it already is. But you’re nearing a wreck on the side of the road, and you can’t help but want to stop and look.

Fuck it.

Fuck the clipboard, fuck the workout plan, fuck not giving in. You can always try (and fail) again the next session.

Bae reads your mind. "Time for some cardio, then?"

“Get up,” is your answer. (A command, a plea).

She’s quick to rise to her feet, smugness gone, and in its place shameless glee as she witnesses you crack and concede defeat in real time.

This is how you'll rationalise it:

There’s only one way to take back control of this situation. At her core, Bae’s an extremely simple person. She sees something she wants; she gets it. She’s a fire—all she does is burn hot, and the only way to keep her from turning your professional life to ash is to feed the flame.

Just enough to manage it.

You step closer, she takes a step back. You follow, each step, each sway of her hips a metronome set to a rhythm that says ‘yes’. She keeps backing up, leading you on until she’s seated on a bench. Placing her hands on her knees, pushing them apart, spreading her legs in a V; an open invitation to the space between.

You're not sure who's training who anymore.

Putting that thought aside—lines can be redrawn, boundaries reset. If you’re going to get some form of authority back, it’s not going to be with words. So, you do the only thing that makes sense in a moment that's lost all logic.

You lean down, take Bae by the chin, and you kiss her.

Something sounding like your name slips from Bae's lips as your tongues meet; as her hands find the back of your neck, pulling you in so she can lick into your mouth and get a taste of your morning.

Eager, greedy, demanding; full of all the pent-up need that’s been festering since that first encounter—when you had her creaming down your thighs and screaming your name. There's little tenderness to be found in the kisses, the licks, the nibbles that follow, you’re both too desperate for any kind of sweetness right now.

Bae’s hands are everywhere; peeling your shirt over your head, tracing the lines of your stomach, digging her nails into the meat of your shoulder. Your own hands are busy too—squeezing her thighs, cupping her ass, drifting up her skintight shorts in search of the heat that’s been keeping you awake at night.

"Took you long enough," she murmurs against your mouth, the words barely discernible but the triumph tinging them crystal clear.

An acknowledgment groaned against her lips, breaking away from the kiss to trail down her neck, licking away that spot you've had your eyes on the whole time. Tasting the salt of her sweat, the sweetness of her skin, revelling in the tang of the forbidden, the vanilla of the inevitable.

It’s some wonder, truly, of how a girl like her—all youthful glow and sharp edges, sculpted by both genetics and sheer force of will—wound up so utterly obsessed with you.

“Because of what you said when we first met,” Bae whispers in your ear, bites on the lobe, and you’re realising that maybe your thoughts haven’t been as silent as you assumed.

“Oh?” Is all you have to offer, because that memory is far gone, and your mind has far too little bandwidth to focus on anything that isn’t her wetness, seeping through the fabric of her shorts and staining your fingertips.

The dampness—it's a dead giveaway. Yet you still ghost a thumb over her, press down just to confirm, make her inhale, sharp. And sure enough, there it is. Or rather, there it isn't.

The audacity.

There's a giggle from Bae as she feels you discover her secret; that it's just her shorts that are keeping you from being knuckle deep inside of her, and nothing else.

Bae recites your words back to you, only from her lips they’re far more honeyed, sticky and sweet against your cheek. "You said that you'd—ah—that you’d push me."

She’s sighing, melting into you, hips slowly grinding against your fingers, so achingly close to begging. Turning up the heat, you let your other hand glide up her abs, feel the need radiating from her, the muscles tensing and rolling with every slight movement she makes.

You’re reaching for her sports bra when she finds her voice, continuing through gritted teeth, "You said that you wouldn't take it easy on me."

Her breath stutters as your thumb traces the bottom of her top, fingers digging beneath her bra line. With one swift tug, the fabric's pulled away from her body, yanked over head in a blur of motion, leaving her breasts bare and heaving before you.

They’re small, yes, but the curve, the fit, the weight of them in your hands—just right.

“You said that if I—ah fuck—”

You can’t resist, really, your lack of self-control has been well established. So, you kiss her chest, licking a path through the valley between her breasts, drinking in the sweat that pools there, that little reservoir of desire.

“You said that if I tried hard enough, I’d be—God, yes—I’d be rewarded.”

Words, simple instructions you’ve given to countless other clients, but Bae. Twisting them, hearing what she wants to hear, or maybe what you intended all along? (Who’s to say.)

“You weren’t lying, were you, sir?”

You don’t have a response—what is there to say now, anyway? Any words would just be noise, inconsequential compared to the symphony of gasps and groans playing out between you both.

There’s a dusky pink nipple just waiting for your touch, all swollen and sensitive. You don’t disappoint. It’s in your mouth, rolling between your tongue and teeth, pebbling under the attention. It’s so easy to get lost in them, in their taste and feel, in her hands threading into your hair, pulling you closer, as if you need the encouragement.

You’re indulging in her, yes, but right now, there’s little you wouldn’t do to make her keen. Your other hand doesn’t rest; fingers are at work, pressing down, circling her clit through the nylon, making her arch up into you. These touches, swipes over her stiffened nub; she's falling into you.

Needy little sounds spill from her mouth, sweet nothings and half-formed pleas; bad things, dirty thoughts that most would regret ever even thinking, but of course, Bae only has the best of intentions. You’ve got her right where she wants to be; where she needs to be, and fuck she just takes your breath away.

You look up at her, feel her, and the absurdity of it all is dawning on you. To think someone like Bae would ever need training.

She was already perfect the first time you met her.

The long, pale-white expanse of her legs, all toned muscle and elegance. Her ass, the tight curve of it, fuller, rounder than should be possible on a frame so dainty. Her stomach, her thighs, her arms, (God, did you already mention her abs?), every flawless fucking inch of her.

A work of art, meticulously crafted by some divine hand; there’s nothing to be done by mere mortals except worship.

Let it be known the irony is not lost on you, when you let her nipple slip from your mouth and relay your next instruction: “Get on your hands and knees.”

Bae doesn’t need to be told twice.

With grace that’s far too practiced to be interpreted as anything other than a deliberate tease, Bae swings her body around, shifting her weight until she's on all fours.

Standing before her, watching the muscles in her back flex, her ass peeking out from beneath the elastic of her shorts. They’ll be ripped off entirely in due time.

But first, a kiss for your troubles. Over your sweatpants, branding you through the cotton as hers.

“Finally,” she breathes, making you swell, throb under her gaze.

Fingers hook into your waistband, pulling down your pants with ease. Your cock springs free, slapping across her lips, leaving a wet streak on her gloss. It shines.

A giggle, a raise of her bleached brows—like it’s a surprise. Like she hasn’t been made intimately familiar with your length; felt it buried deep inside her, painting her walls, her throat, with your release.

The tip of her tongue peeks out, just enough to swipe across the slit, to scoop up the pre-cum beading out of it. You hiss through your teeth, hips jerk forward, but Bae’s too quick—draws back with a laugh. She’s enjoying this, this little game of hers. The brat and the trainer, the cat and the mouse, the idol and the grown man who’s supposed to have his shit together.

“Tease,” you groan, your hands finding her hair, tugging gently to remind her of her place.

“Sorry, sir. Couldn’t resist.”

A wink is all the warning you get, and she’s diving down.

No more preamble, no hesitation at all—Bae’s been waiting for this all fucking month, and she’s dead set on making up for lost time.

She’s taking you in, all of you, all at once; her mouth stretching wide to accommodate the girth. The feel of her, the wetness, the tears at the corners of those big, round eyes, and the question in them—'think you can handle this?'

Fuck.

She’s sloppy; so immediately, noisily sloppy.

Cheeks hollowing out, taking you deep, making your hips buck and collide with the back of her throat for that agonising split second before she retreats; only to do it again. Faster, harder; making you doubt the ability of your knees to hold out.

A fistful of her hair, if only to keep you upright.

She’s all over the place—popping your cock from her lips, kissing down your shaft, licking around the base, a cheeky graze of teeth along your balls, and then back again, swallowing you down until you can feel her nose nuzzling into your groin.

You’re a mess of sensations, pleasure coiling in your stomach, a knot inside you tightening with every wet sound she makes.

It’s her enthusiasm that does it, really. She’s not trying to be good at this, not trying to impress you with her skills. She’s just plain desperate for it.

Her moans vibrate through you, muffled by the thickness of your cock. She’s saying something, words that you can’t quite make out, that takes a moment to translate: "Needed this," she gasps around your length, "Missed it so much."

An admission: you’ve really fucking missed it too.

“This beautiful, beautiful cock,” Bae slurs, sliding your cock out of her throat to catch her breath, so she can take a break to wonder. “How many has it ruined, hm?” Her tongue flicks out, scooping the globs of saliva and pre-cum hanging from the head. “All those pretty little girls you train.”

There’s envy there, and you’re barely managing to groan out, assuage her, “Just you.”

“I find that so fucking hard to believe, sir.” Bae says, resting your cock on the edges of her cheeks. “Those tight cunts, those eager mouths and asses, and you're telling me—" she swipes her tongue along your shaft, leaving a wet trail in her wake "—that it's just me?"

Her voice, her fucking words; too, too much. It’s all you can do to not just grab her by the neck and fuck her face raw. (A dream for her, probably. To have you grab her throat and made her choke on you).

“Well, if you say so,” she’s unconvinced; not that it does anything to slow her down. Back at it, back at making her eyes water, at needing these panted, desperate gulps of air between mouthfuls of you.

The little things—her lips glued around your shaft, her throat a tight, warm fist, and her eyes. Looking up at you like she's afraid if she doesn't, if she stops moving and averts her gaze, you'll pull away.

As if.

“Bae, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re blurting out, because she is. She really, really is.

Wet and filthy and so fucking delighted to let you know, “All for you, sir.”

And you believe it—she makes you believe it.

Everything’s for you, even when she’s not supposed to be. The sound of her, choking and gagging, the wet, slobbering noises of her devouring you, echoing off the empty gym walls.

The sight of it all; tearing your attention to a million different places. There’s the Bae in front of you, focused entirely on your cock, on letting you use her mouth like a toy, plunge your length deep down her throat to make her cry, to make her cheeks flush.

Then there’s the Bae in the mirror, the reflection bouncing off the polished chrome surface behind her. Her ass, rising and falling, in time with the bobbing of her head; and that soaked spot right at the centre of her shorts, the bullseye growing and growing with every second that passes.

Fucking amazing, incredible, too good, too much to handle; spilling out of your mouth as those pouty pink lips of hers slide up and down, drool pooling around your base, slipping down your thighs, a wet mess dripping onto your floor.

“And to think you wanted to stop this from happening,” she’s chiding, offended really, voice raspy with the effort of speaking around your cock.

There’s no argument to make, not when you’re too busy taking in the sight of your cock disappearing back into her mouth. She’s impatient now, not letting up, not even for air; just taking you in deep, deep, so deep she’s trying to swallow you whole.

You’re sliding down, down her throat, and she’s got you; this suction around you that holds you there and it’s a sheer miracle that haven't completely dissolved inside her. Your hips are thrusting forward of their own accord, your hand still in her hair, but not pulling anymore. Just holding on.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, the gym spins around you; the lights, the equipment, everything blurs into a sea of white noise, and all that remains is the wet sound of her mouth and the hotness of her throat, the fistfuls of her blonde hair, her eyes, these pretty drops of chocolate brown; and it’s all building and building and tightening and tightening, until—

"Stop."

It’s a pain to say, but necessary; if you still want a fighting chance to make it out of this with at least some of your dignity intact.

A gentle tug of her hair has your cock slipping from her mouth with a wet pout; leaving the warmth of her lips for the sudden chill of the gym’s regulated air. Bae looks up at you, panting, lips swollen and shiny, drops of you smeared from your base to her chin.

“Something wrong?”

A pause until the room stops spinning, so you can collect yourself and wonder why you’re even here. “I need—" you start, but the words catch in your throat. What do you need? To not fuck your client? To try to keep your job? Or to hear her scream your name, have her beg and beg and beg, drill her into every surface possible—every bench, rack, wall, fuck even the elliptical if she’s game.

Coherence comes and goes, and Bae remains seated on her heels, supplying her own suggestions. “Need to stretch me out? Make me really sweat?”

"Still with that?"

"Tired of the wordplay?" She laughs, and you can't even be mad—you're the one who gave her the opening.

"What do you think?"

Bae takes her sweet time looking you up and down, greed in her gaze, as she takes in you; straining from the effort of holding back. From your chest, down your stomach, landing on your cock, still painfully standing at attention.

"I think," she says, drawing out that word, sliding it over her tongue like a piece of candy, "That I regret not asking you to send me any photos back."

That brings a smile to your face; and it’s enough to clear the fog from your head. You steel your resolve, give her the one thing she’s been craving, from the moment she saw you walk in:

A firm order: “Stand up. Take those shorts off before I rip them off myself.”

You give her room to lift herself off the bench, legs unfurling one at a time and stretching beneath her. She wiggles her hips in this dance as she kicks off her sneakers and shimmies out of her shorts; the nylon clinging to her skin before it’s peeled away to reveal… nothing.

Just her bare, naked flesh—pink and perfect.

Tearing away from her momentarily, from the living canvas of long legs and naked anticipation, ignoring the fucking twirl she does for you, because yeah, she’s fully, adorably aware of just how insanely, lights-out good she looks.

You turn to the bench, kick up the backrest from a flat to an incline; doing your best to pay no mind to Bae, waiting. Rather impatiently, bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet. The teacher’s pet, so needy for a morsel of attention.

Back to her, unable to suppress the smirk spreading across your face as you take a seat. “Squats.”

Her face. The amusement, the excitement, the acknowledgment that you’re now completely on board with this derailment of a training session—it's all there, painted across Bae's features in glorious, full-colour high definition.

She takes a step forward, sauntering over, one hand sliding down to trace over her mound, to tease herself; tease you. And when she’s close enough, she swings her legs over your thighs, straddling your waist, taking hold of your shoulders and bracing herself against you.

Dripping already, cunt barely kissing the tip of your cock, the heat of it all; it’s a living, breathing entity in the room—thick, heavy, making the air feel charged.

And then, without another word, she sinks down.

A long, hot breath from Bae's mouth: “Fuuuck me.”

Slow, delicious torture has you groaning, has her biting down on her lip. The way she takes you in, the way you push into her, inch by inch—feeling every little twitch of her walls, every throb of your cock; it’s all just so fucking perfect.

“Good girl,” you find yourself saying when she bottoms out, when your cock completes her, turns her into something beautifully obscene.

“God, you’re just so,” she starts with, but the words get lost somewhere between the shallow gasps and harsh breaths that follows.

She’s staring at you, deep into you, and there’s this satisfied grin playing at the corners of her mouth that makes you want to do everything she hasn’t had the breath to ask for.

"Thank you," she manages instead.

And then she’s moving. Slowly, so goddamn slow, taking her time to feel every ridge, every vein; making sure she’s got you all to herself. Her chest heaves up and down, her tits bounce dangerously close to your lips. You spy past her, enamoured with her reflection, how her back flexes and tenses, how her spine curves with each descent, how her ass cheeks clench each time you fill her whole.

It’s these tight little squats, this wonderful rhythm she’s setting, these squeezes of her pussy around you, the juices of her cunt slapping against your thighs as she bounces.

“Creaming everywhere, so fucking messy.” You’re taking stock of her; of this mess she’s leaving, all over herself, all over you, all over the bench and down to the ground. You can’t even be mad because, “It’s a good look on you, Bae.”

From a distance she’d be the purest depiction of innocence; the sweetest angel, the kind that would be painted on stained glass and prayed to by the masses.

But here, up close, biting down on your shoulder, devouring your cock with her cunt, moaning in your ear things that would make the Old Testament blush; she’s fucking pornographic.

Yet, she says, “Sir, I can’t handle this—”

You pause, holding her by the hips, eliciting this whine from her lips. “Too much?”

“No, not that, it’s—ah. It’s too slow,” Bae whines, emphasising her point by slamming her hips down onto your thighs, the slap of skin on skin bouncing off the mirrored walls. “I need it fast. And hard. Like you said, I need to sweat. It’s there—I’m right fucking there—so, can we—fuck, can we just go?”

Bae, Bae, Bae.

She makes your blood sing and your cock throb.

Makes you give it to her, just like she asked.

Fingers dig into her hips, thumbs pressed into the softness of her flesh, and you lift her slightly, only to pull her right back down. Like she asked: fast, hard, and you’re thankful you shelled out extra for benches that could take punishment.

“God—” Bae cries out, high-pitched, a scream that has her shaking; not because you’re hurting her, there’s no pain to be found here. It’s all just bliss, pure, unbridled bliss.

So, you lean in, suck one of those pretty little peaks into your mouth, swirl your tongue around, and she’s jolting, her cunt clamping down on you, so tight, so fucking tight.

Every part of her, from the top of head to the tips of her toes, is tuned to this frequency of need. Her nipples, especially so; they’re so sensitive, so attuned to your every touch. They tighten to pebbles with the slightest swipe of your tongue, when your teeth dare to graze them—any pressure from your lips and she shivers.

"That’s—fuck—that’s so much better," she’s panting, “Isn’t it, isn’t it so fucking good?”

You rumble something of an affirmative into her chest, too occupied to bother with words, too busy mapping out her chest, her breasts, that lovely dip between, with your tongue and teeth and hands.

And you’re suddenly having trouble remembering, or forgetting altogether—what was it really that was stopping you from doing this sooner? What could possibly make missing out on this, missing out on Bae’s sighs and moans, missing out on the blistering heat of her cunt and the tightness wrapped around you worth it?

Sure, you had her (had each other) in the shower—slippery, steamy, illicit—but it had been so fleeting. Just a glimpse into what had been begging to happen since she first entered your domain, all smiles and sly glances.

Now that she's in your lap, taking your cock like such a good little slut, you can’t stop the images flooding your mind, feeding your imagination with every conceivable scenario.

Tasting every inch of her, exploring every crevice with your tongue, every peak and valley with your fingers. Spending hours just learning her. In due time, in due time; not now, when she’s riding you like she’s trying to break you—or at least, break the bench.

“This, exactly this,” Bae breathes into your neck, her nails raking over your shoulder blades, leaving these angry red crescents that burn and sting. “Fuck, fuck, I want it just like this—"

Getting more erratic, louder, closer.

So, you lean back, content to let her do all the work, watch her climb that peak. You could take all the time in the world, watch her waste away the very expensive fee you’re charging her company for your time. It’s what she wants, and isn’t that how it goes—the customer is always right?

"This is exactly what I want to do, exactly what we're going to do every session from now on," Bae’s instructing, voice a whip crack in the quiet of the gym. She’s getting braver with each moan that escapes, each grind of her hips that sends you deeper. "You’re going to fuck me, hard, rough, just like you fucking promised."

You can't help but laugh, the situation absurd, the words rolling off her tongue like she’s rehearsed them. "Every session, huh?"

"Every. Single. One," she confirms, her eyes fluttering shut as she starts to bounce faster, her pussy swallowing you up in a wet, delicious rhythm. “No more hiding, no more pretending. Just me, you, and this gym, as much as we need, whenever we want. Fuck, doesn't even have to be scheduled, I'll just call you and you better be here ready to fuck my brains out."

"Alright, Bae," you grit out, something inside you tightening at the thought of her calling you, begging for it like she is now, "If that's what you want, that's what you'll get."

It’s a contract, signed and sealed with the slickness of her cunt, the heat of your skin, the promise in her eyes that she’ll be good, so good for you—or at least, good enough to get more of this.

"But remember," you say, unlatching yourself from her tits, making sure to catch her eyes. "I don't do easy. You want this, you're going to work for it."

Bae bites her lips, “Yes. God yes.”

You correct her. “Yes, who?”

“Yes,” Bae grins, “sir.”

Something shifts; the dynamic swinging for the first time in your direction, and it’s clear now. Clear to you, to her, that from now on as long as you’re taking her—pushing her—to that precipice, you’re the one calling the shots.

So, you guide her, guide her hips with your hands; setting a new pace. One that’s demanding, borderline violent, that has her chanting—“yes, yes, yes”—the syllables falling from her lips like sweet little prayers to some depraved deity.

She’s coming apart, leaving herself so vulnerable and bare, like she'd just die on top of you if you didn't stop fucking her back to life. It’s so, so painfully lovely, you’re seeing the most beautifully crafted sculpture crumble into dust. You’re in awe of her. You’re in—

Fuck you might be falling for her.

That’s a revelation to keep tucked safely away, because you couldn’t think of a less appropriate time for confessions. No, now’s the time for grunts and groans, for the sound of her wetness and the smack of her ass colliding with your thighs.

"Am I good for you?" Bae mewls, "Am I good for you, sir?"

She’s so, so good. So fucking good that your answer is a knee-jerk reaction. “Fucking incredible, Bae. Such a good slut. Getting fucked like this, used. Taking it so fucking nicely.”

Red colours her cheeks as they flush at the praise, a silent plea for more. And so you give it to her, pushing harder, faster, showering her with these gems of depravity that only someone like Bae could bring to the surface.

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you? Getting so close. So desperate to give it to me,” you’re taunting, feeling her walls closing in around you, feeling her body coiling up tight. “It’s okay, let go. You can let go.”

So close to the edge she’s practically dancing on it. She’s fighting it, fighting against the wave, her cunt spasming around you, her breaths hitching and coming in these sweet desperate little pants.

You can taste it; she just needs that extra push, that hard fucking to bring her there. A demand: “Cum. Cum for me now, Bae. Show me how good you can be, show me how much you want this.”

And finally, a gasp, “Say my name. Call me by my name, please.”

A hand at the back of her neck, bringing her ear to her lips, so you can whisper the name you’re fucking her hard enough to forget. “Jinsol.”

It’s fucking immediate.

The words leave your mouth, and she shatters. Fine china thrown against a brick wall.

Waves of it hitting her, a shudder at first, then a fucking tsunami; ripping through her, stealing away any last semblance of bodily autonomy she might’ve had left and leaving her as a puddle of trembles and shivers and pure need.

You keep pumping, calling her every dirty name in your book—whore, slut, your little toy, your good girl, just Jinsol—again and again until all she knows is your voice.

Each name you give her, it’s a spark that sends her higher, makes her cum harder, and she just goes and goes and goes.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuuuck," Bae whimpers, eyes squeezed shut so tightly you can see the veins pulsing at her temples. And you keep going, you keep pushing her, because you can't get enough of this—of her, of the power she's given you, of the way she's so obviously yours in this moment.

You want to mark this occasion, leave a sign that it was real, that you really did fuck her to oblivion. It has you kissing into her neck, sucking at the pale flesh, biting down just hard enough to make her whine.

"You're mine," you burn into her, in that nook between her neck and shoulder. "You're all mine."

Ragged huffs signal the end of it, the come down from the high—but you’re hardly done with her. You can’t be—not when you’re still this hard, not when she’s still so fucking wet around you, not when you’re feeling like this, like you could drown in her without ever needing to come up for air.

"So good, so fucking good.” She collapses, her body folds into yours, and she’s giggling, all breathless and boneless.

Of course she’d be like this, over the fucking moon. She’s got what she wanted, what she needed; made you promise to keep giving it to her whenever she wanted.

She reaches for you, fingers trace the line of your job, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, smudging a bit of her own gloss there. "I knew you’d be perfect," is what she says, right before she kisses you, "Perfect for this."

The tangling of your tongues, the taste of mint and sweat, and the smiles you’re sharing against each other’s lips when you flex your cock inside her.

“I’m not done yet,” you remind her, pulling back from her kiss, pulling your bottom lip out from her teeth. “Far from it.”

“Not going to let me catch my breath?” Bae teases, acting like this isn't entirely her fault. Like she wasn't the one that pushed you this far, that dug underneath all your layers of professionalism and responsibility until she found someone that could match her appetite.

“No.”

You’re up, pushing yourself up to your feet, keeping her impaled on you, fucking her up into the air and forcing her to wrap her legs around your waist.

And then, with a strength fuelled by lust and want and a need to just fucking cum in this slut; you drop her on her feet, spin her around, and plant her hands against the mirror.

No warning, no easing her in; she’s still so wet, cunt slick and slippery. Just slide back in, slam into her from behind, watch her come apart.

It’s all in front of you, all playing out across her pretty reflection: her face twists, her tits jiggle, her abs, God how they tighten and release all at once.

Taking back a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to claim her neck; all these sweet things—"watch yourself get fucked, Bae, look how pretty you are for me.”

And she laughs, she actually laughs, because it’s all she can do when you’re gripping her hair so tight, scraping your teeth across her neck, making her feel you all thick and hard inside of her.

A hard buck of your hips sends her forward, presses her cheek to the mirror, staining the glass with the heat of her breath.

“Look,” you demand, “look how perfect you are taking my cock like this.”

She obeys; staring at herself in the mirror, watching herself get fucked, get filled, get taken. It’s just too much. She’s too much. You’re too much. This whole fucking situation is just too much.

"Fuck it's so—you're fucking me so—"

"Didn’t you say you could take it?"

Bae's response is a whine, a clench of her cunt around you. "I can, I can take it, sir," she gasps. "Whatever you have for me. But you're just too..."

You lean in, eager to hear her confession. "Too what?"

"Too much! Too big, too good, too everything."

A fucking compliment and a challenge all rolled into one. "Is that so?"

"Y-Yes—I’m just so—just need you to—please fucking cum," she groans, barely audible over the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together. "Do whatever you want to it, to me, to my pussy, please, just please, please, please."

You're breaking her, turning her into this teary mess of moans and whimpers, tapping into something innate inside her, something that wants to be bent to your will, to be used by you, to be treated like the slut she craves to be in this moment.

And fuck, it’s addictive.

"You're going to scream my name.” You’re telling her, telling her how the rest of this situation, how the rest of your entire relationship is going to play out. "You're going to cum all over my cock again, and then you're going to tell me how much you love it."

"I will, sir," she nods furiously to you, to herself in the mirror, "I'll do anything you say."

You just can't wipe the grin off your face.

Thrusting into her, fucking her like you've never fucked anyone before. Like you own her, like she's nothing more than your toy to play with—to use and abuse and enjoy.

She’s screaming your name—no, not your name—“sir, sir, sir, fuck me, sir”—and—“more, sir, please, pretty please.”

More for her—a hard smack to her ass that makes her jump, makes her eyes water. But it also has her push back against you, fucking you back, more frantic than ever. A second smack cracking through the gym, and already there’s red blooming on her skin, marring the perfect pale flesh.

"Sir, please," she cries out, her voice high and tight. "More, more, more."

You oblige, your hand coming down again and again, painting her ass with the sting of your palm. Each smack has her pussy clenching around you, her lips begging for more.

"I love this," she admits, shakily. "I love it."

You slap her again, and again, and again—each hit punctuating her moans. "Say it," you demand. "Say it louder."

"I love it, sir," she cries, the filthy fucking admission bouncing off the walls. "I love it, I love it, I love it!"

Her orgasm builds again, her body tightening around you, a vice. The tension in the air is suffocating, you’re fucking in for it now, dooming yourself to this delicious cycle of sin with every thrust.

Bae, your Bae, all pure white and angry red now, the beauty still standing despite your best efforts to bring it to ruin.

She's there, and you're done waiting.

"Now."

It's that fucking easy.

That's what you think as you watch Bae unravel all over again, all over you; slipping into that sweet, sweet oblivion that you’ve coaxed out of her.

"God, sir, fuck!"

Hammering into her, fucking her apart; through the pain, through the ruinous pleasure, pressing her up against the mirror, squishing her tits into the cold glass.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, sir, fucking me so good, making such a mess, you’re—" But that sentence dies before it even can get started, and all that tumbles out of her mouth is, “fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

She’s fucking gone.

Bae crumbles against the mirror, and you fall into her, keeping your body glued to her back. The clenching, the shivering, the twitches and the gasps; the patchwork of bruises and bites and crimson you’ve left all over her.

You follow.

Something dark, a guttural grunt, and you pull out of her, this sloshing noise from her cunt as you do.

Without your cock Bae just falls to the ground, bracing herself against the wall while she gathers herself—twists her body into something beautiful.

Before you can even process what she’s doing, what’s happening at your feet, she’s in position; that pose again. And you realise what it was: the kneeling, the hands behind the back, the tits out, mouth wide open, tongue waiting.

A preview. A promise. An invitation.

“Sir, your cum, if you please—"

A sledgehammer to your fucking soul—that's what it feels like when you finish.

One, two, three pumps of your cock and your vision goes white, like someone's shone a fucking flashlight right into your eyes, and the only thing you have left is the intense, throbbing release all over Bae.

Ropes of it spurt from your cock, painting her face with thick, white streaks. There’s more sirs, more thank yous and pleases and fucks, (you swear you catch a daddy in there as it hits her); but she doesn't flinch—no, she opens her mouth wider, needy for every drop.

The first shot hits her square in the forehead, sliding down the bridge of her nose and into the waiting cavern of her mouth.

Another shot goes wide, spattering across that dark freckle on her cheek. Another hits her chin, another ruins her hair, the last sprays over her tits; all these shots just covering her, turning this fucking idol into your personal cumslut.

“God, yes, sir,” she slurs through the cum, earning every single drop, “I’m just covered in it. So, fucking much. It’s so good.”

A stumble back on your feet, a step away to assess the damage as you slowly stop pumping your cock. Bae on her knees before you, just drenched with your cum. Bae your client, if she still can be called that anymore.

What else could she be? Your lover, your sub, your obsession, your… what? You’re not quite sure what to call it, call her, other than a big fucking mess.

But, as you watch her happily lick your cum off her own skin, you can’t resist giving a final instruction. “Swallow.”

“Yes, sir.”

You are so, so fucked.

Bae, sweet and obedient, takes her finger, scooping up every trace of you from her cheek, her tits, all along the ridges of her abs. All this hot, hot white you’ve expended on her, marked and branded her with.

It all happens in slow motion; she laps it up, paints it over her lips, pushes it into her mouth. Sticking out her tongue, presenting it to you in one big sticky glob, making sure you're seeing nothing but her be such a good girl for you.

And down her throat it goes.

"Good enough, sir?"

You lean down, wipe the last drop off her temple with your thumb. She opens her mouth, helps you push it in, sucks on it greedily as if it’s the last taste of you she’ll ever get.

There’s a thought to give her more, to fill her mouth until she’s addicted to your flavour. But you don’t—not yet.

You must save some things for later.

Bae’s content to stay there, kneeling, cheek resting your thigh, utterly cum-drenched; fingers idly dancing along your softening cock, toying with the last few drops of cum that still cling to your shaft.

You break the silence with a sigh. “Guess I should get used to this, huh?”

Bae sings, “Every single session.”

“Christ.”

That draws a chuckle from her, and you shoot her a warning look as she dares to kiss your cock once more. “Care to show me how the shower works again?”

You roll your eyes.

“I mean, only if we have the time.”

At this point, you’d give her your every waking hour if you could. A glance at the digital clock on the wall has you guesstimating—"It'll be a squeeze."

Bae, never to miss an opportunity, “Isn’t that how you like me?”

“I thought we were going to stop with the wordplay."

"Can't help it, sir." Bae's arms snake around your leg, sidling just that inch closer. "You just bring it out of me."

"Ah, so it's my fault."

"Of course. This whole thing is your fault," she tells you, donning the expression of a saint; all wide-eyes and sweet smiles. "You just had to make me yours."

"Mine?"

"From now on, yes."

“In that case—” You bend down, lifting Bae up, hoisting her up in your arms as easily as any other weight in the gym. She giggles into your neck, her body fitting into yours like you've been doing this for years. The warmth of her, the press of her breasts into your chest, her legs looping around your waist—it’s all so natural. “While we still have some time left.”

“Before your next client?” She asks, oh-so-innocently, like she isn't prying, isn't trying to make a home for herself in the remaining hours of your day.

“Sullyoon.”

“Oh,” Bae says once, processing, and then again, “Ohhh.”

You blink, trying to keep up with wherever her mind is racing to next. “What?”

The smile that widens on her face is going to haunt you, you can tell. “Oh, nothing,” she says, but she’s got a secret she’s just dying to share.

But she won’t, not yet.

Bae’s fingers trace a pattern down the centre of your chest, playing over your sternum, circling your navel, and then—there’s that smugness again—heading south. “I was just thinking I might stick around for your next session.”

It’s a declaration, not a question. The way she says it, so casual, so flippant, it’s like she’s talking about sticking around to watch a movie, not grossly overstepping even more lines before you get a chance to redraw them.

And then you're back at square one.

“Just to make sure you and her keep things strictly professional."

#kpop smut #bae smut #nmixx smut #male reader

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rin-may-1103 · 5 months ago

Text

The Wrong Robin Au (part three)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny never said he knew what he was doing, but he thinks he's doing something right if the kid hasn't started crying yet. so you know, that's great. now, he just needed to get the kid out of here, so Danny could have a moment to mourn his retirement plans.

He wasn't going to blame the kid, ancients know Danny would have gone back to hero work eventually. He just couldn't let things go if he could help it, and he could in this situation.

"Alright, here's the plan." Danny announced, slapping his legs as he stood up. "it's late, you're a kid who needs sleep. let's get you home, then we can get a game plan on how to do this."

Tim had been nodding his head, even if it was reluctantly, before freezing in sudden realization. Danny raised his eyebrow in question, wondering what was wrong now.

"you want my help?" Tim asked, absolutely gobsmacked.

Oh, the kid thought Danny was just going to send him away like any reasonable adult would. Ha, Danny wished. but no. He had no clue what he was doing and this kid was his only trump card for making any of the half-assed plans still forming in his head work. AND he had a feeling if he didn't keep Tim close by, the kid would run off and do something stupid.

"Yep," Danny snorted, "you were smart enough to figure out who Batman was, and then you decided to take it upon yourself to help him; whether by convincing me to do it or yourself."

"Now then," Danny said as he walked over to the couch and pulled his hoodie from under Sam. Sam, to her credit, told him to fuck off and went back to snoring. Tucker, somehow having heard her, responded with a 'Go fuck yourself'.

Shaking his head, Danny turned back to Tim. "Let's get going. It's-" Danny turned to look at the clock, his eyes narrowing when he found it; 4 am. The kid was up and coherent enough to try and blackmail someone into being Robin at four in the morning. "-four. you seriously need to get some sleep kid. It's a school night." actually, what day was it???

Tim rolled his eyes but started to follow Danny out the door. "It's Saturday, and I've stayed up longer," he grumbled.

Danny snorted, "So have I, but we still need to sleep." He should probably try and prevent the kid from staying up longer than he should. Danny knows what years of not sleeping properly does to someone. The kid's obsessed with Batman and Robin, right? He'll just use them then.

"Robin needs all the sleep he can get. Otherwise, Batman will bench him. If Robin is benched, then who is out there helping Batman?" That's convincing, right? Does Batman even have the power to bench Robin? From the sounds of it, Robin is his kid's vigilante name. Which means he totally has the power to ground them.

Wait...

If Danny was going to be Robin, does that mean Batman would think he's his kid?

Oh, hell naw. He was not going to be adopted by another fruitloop! If Bruce Wayne even thinks about it, Danny will be out of there so fast even the Flash couldn't stop him.

Tim stumbled, his eyes wide in surprise. "Really?" he asks, turning to look at Danny in horror. Danny blinked, brain failing to remember why the kid would be surprised.

shit, what were they talking about?? Robin... It's four am... Right!

"Yep," Danny chirped, leading the kid to his car. "Now, I know everyone says not to get into a stranger's car and all that jazz, but it's the only way I'm getting you home. So, hop in."

Tim didn't even hesitate to jump into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. Danny stared at him for a second, before opening the car door and sitting down.

"kid, you do know you're not supposed to get into strangers' cars, right?" Danny asked, closing the door and buckling up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and started the engine.

"Well, yeah?" Tim replied, turning to face him, "But you're not a stranger. You're Robin. You protect people not hurt them."

and well? Danny can't argue with that, now, can he?

"Right, fine. Just promise not to get into strangers' cars. I don't care how much you think you know about them. It's not safe, and you could get hurt."

Tim hummed, thinking about it for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, alright. I promise."

"good." Danny sighed, turning to look at the road to see if it was clear. then he sighed again, "Don't tell strangers where you live, please."

Tim looked at him in amusement, a small smile spreading across his face. "Drake manor. 1015 Mountain Drive. It's in the Crest Hill community."

"You're killing me here, kid." Danny groaned, hitting his head against the steering wheel. Then he slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at Tim, "Kid. How the hell did you get all the way over here? Mountain Drive is all the way over in Bristol??? That's, like, twelve miles outside of city limits?"

"I have my ways."

Danny narrowed his eyes, "You bribed someone, didn't you."

Tim looked away from him, fiddling with his fingers.

sighing, Danny sat up and started driving down the road. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the chaos that was Gotham City as they drove. Tim eventually slumped over, his head resting against the window.

It took a good thirty minutes before Danny could turn onto the bridge out of town. The traffic wasn't heavy, just the occasional car here and there. It was almost peaceful.

"Turn here," Tim suddenly instructed, startling Danny.

"Tim!" Danny cried, turning to look at the kid, then back at the road. although, he did do as the kid instructed. "don't do that! you'll give me a heart attack or something! Ancients!"

Tim blinked, then shrugged. "ok," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"my house is the one with really stupid-looking ducks carved into the gates." Tim supplied, waving his hand at the road ahead of them. "Bruce's is the one with bats, but you knew that."

"Right," Danny agreed. What were the chances that Batman happened to live in a place called Gotham and in a house with black iron gates covered in bats? It was almost as coincidental as Danny's last name sounding like Phantom. Fate really had quite the sense of humor, didn't they?

after they passed a few more dirt roads, Tim pointed at a specific one, "Turn here. The gates a little further back than everyone else's."

Danny hummed, turning the car onto the road. What was his life at this point? Driving children to their huge houses at four-thirty in the morning? agreeing to become Robin? coming out of retirement because a kid asked him to?

Bruce Wayne better appreciate all the effort this kid was going through...

A tall gate slowly popped into view, making Danny slow the car down until he could stop right in front of it. "Alright, kid. You're home. get some sleep. Go to school, I don't know, what do you rich kids do on the weekends? actually, you know what? It doesn't matter, do you have a phone?"

Tim blinked as he slowly unbuckled, "yes?"

"One that's not monitored by your parents or anyone else?"

"..."

Danny sighed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. "Here," Danny unlocked it, went to settings and pressed the factory rest option. Once the phone finished the reset, he quickly scanned through it to make sure it was all gone before adding his second phone number. once done, he tossed it over to the kid. "here, should work for now. Don't let anyone else have it."

If this was any other situation, Danny would have gone straight to the kid's parents; but considering it was past four in the morning and there wasn't a city-wide amber alert? He has a feeling the kid needs a safety net, and well? What better than a direct line to him?

"I can't just take your phone!" Tim cried, catching the phone before it could fall to the ground.

"It's my backup one. I tend to break my phone pretty often, so I always keep an extra one on me. my current number is saved on it, you can reach out and get in contact with me now." Danny waved off the kid's concern, reaching into the back of the car to grab a bag.

with how often his phone had broken during ghost fights and how frequently his parents dissected his phone for parts? It's a habit at this point to have a backup. or Ten. Pulling the bag to the front, Danny showed the kid what was inside.

"..." Tim blinked, then looked up at Danny. "why do you have a bag of broken phones in your car?"

"Because my phones keep breaking and I figured it would be easier to just keep them for extra parts than toss them. Now," Danny tossed the bag into the back, ignoring how it tipped over and spilled the contents all over the seat. He'd clean it up later. Maybe. "It's early. You need sleep, I need sleep. We can pick another day to sit down and build a game plan."

Tim sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone in his hands, before glancing up at Danny. "You really mean it?" he asked, turning the phone around anxiously, "you really want my help?"

"kid, Tim," Danny started, tilting his head so he could make eye contact. "with how bad you say Batman's gotten? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than the one who went out of his way to try and actually do something about it?"

Tim's eyes watered as he looked back at the phone. "ok," he whispered, nodding his head. Reaching up, he wiped his face clean before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"ok," he repeated, voice stronger now. "I'll help. I want to."

"Good," Danny nodded in agreement, then smiled. "get some sleep kid, you need it."

"I don't need it," Tim grumbled, turning to open the door and get out. "but if that's what it takes for you to allow me to help, then I guess I can take a nap or something."

Danny snorted, watching as Tim closed the car door and started making his way to the gate.

as soon as the kid was out of view, Danny slammed his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. He had definitely jinxed himself earlier. How hard can being Robin be? Yeah right. He hasn't even gotten to meet Bruce yet and he's already stressed.

...

Glancing up, Danny watched as the clock glitched then turned to five am.

...

Well then, he might as well do something productive since it was unlikely he'd be getting any more sleep if he went back. Sam would be up by the time he got there, which meant he'd have to answer all of her questions... which would wake Tucker up, which would mean Danny'd have to explain all over again.

Glancing around, Danny suddenly realized something.

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce Wayne; as in, Gotham's own himbo billionaire.

Who lives in Bristol.

Which is where he is right now. Logically speaking, he'd be able to find it pretty fast if he just looked at the gates. It's probably just a few houses from Tim's too, now that he thought about it...

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped Danny?

Jazz was so going to kill him for this.

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okaylikeschaewon · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 9: Cherry Blossom

~5500 words, male reader, smut

“Maybe it’s just lust.”

“That didn’t feel like lust,” you argued.

“The way she kissed you, or the way you kissed her?”

“I don’t…” you stammered. “I’m a fucking awful person.”

“Okay hold up,” Sakura grabbed your hands, forcing you to sit down. “Tell me if I got this right. You slept with her because Chaewon told you to, and just now Zuha confessed she might have feelings for you, and then the two of you kissed?”

“She kissed me first.”

“Yeah, and then you kissed her back,” Sakura said gently. “Before we go further, I want you to take a deep breath and relax. You’re not a bad person, it’s going to be okay.”

“Alright,” you followed her advice, inhaling deeply before exhaling. “Thanks for hearing me out by the way, I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

“Well, you did come to me in a bit of a panic,” Sakura chuckled warmly. “But of course I’d hear you out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sakura replied before adding shyly. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“What? Kkura, of course I trust you, that shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Let’s get back to the topic,” Sakura quickly changed the subject. “First of all, I don’t want you to tell Chaewon anything without getting your head straight.”

“I don’t want to hide anything-”

“I’m not telling you to hide anything or to lie,” Sakura interjected. “I’m just telling you that this was a lot to go through, and that I want you to promise me that you won’t rush into telling her this without properly thinking about it first.”

“Won’t Zuha just tell her anyway?”

“From what you’ve told me, there’s no chance of that happening.”

“How can you be so sure?” you questioned her confidence.

“You claim she was borderline in tears when she told you how she felt? There’s no chance she’d tell Chaewon, truthfully it’s probably really tough for her to even admit these feelings to you knowing that you and Chaewon are together,” Sakura explained. “Just trust me on this one.”

“Alright fine,” you replied. “I also don’t want Zuha to feel like she has no one to talk to about this.”

“We can figure that out later, right now I’m concerned about you and only you,” Sakura stated, letting go of your hands.

“So why exactly shouldn’t I go tell Chaewon right now?”

“Think about it, if you rush to tell her this instead of being a little tactful, you know her feelings will be hurt, especially if you don’t even understand it yourself,” Sakura explained slowly, clearly growing impatient. “Also, think about how Zuha would feel, she told you because she trusts you.”

“But-”

“No, you cannot tell Chaewon yet.”

“I-”

“Do you want to hurt her?” Sakura asked angrily, shooting daggers at you with her eyes. “If you do, then go. Go tell her. I’m sure it’ll work out fine.”

“Alright, alright I get what you’re saying,” you sighed. “So what should I do?”

“Let’s start with hearing what you actually think,” Sakura suggested, warming back up. “Be honest, do you have feelings for Kazuha?”

“I… don’t think so,” you answered, not nearly as confidently as when Chaewon asked you the same question.

“You don’t think so?” Sakura repeated your answer.

“It’s like… look, the sex was fucking amazing,” you explained.

“Thanks, not what I was asking.”

“Hold on, let me finish,” you continued. “The sex was great, but I haven’t had those feelings for Zuha before.”

“When you say before, does that mean you do have them now?”

“I… don’t think so.”

“Swee-” Sakura immediately paused, her cheeks turning bright pink. “Alright, I really think you should take the night to think about how you feel.”

“Hmm,” you ignored her little slip up. “I can do that.”

“Then tomorrow you’ll know if you should talk to Chaewon or Zuha first,” she continued. “I know you’ll make the right decision, whatever it is.”

“Okay, I’ll sleep on it,” you agreed with her plan.

“Also, is it okay with you if I talk to Zuha about this?” Sakura asked.

“I…” you pondered the question. Part of you wanted to say no because it was an odd scenario, but the other part of you knew that Sakura was smart enough to do it in a way that would work out. “Yeah, you can.”

“Thanks,” Sakura smiled before leaning forward and giving you a hug. “You’re a good person, I know you are.”

“I feel a lot better after talking to you.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Sakura smiled at you after letting go.

“This kinda reminded me of…” you let your voice trail off.

“I know what you mean.”

“Do you ever… think about those days?” you asked spontaneously without thinking. “Sorry, I know we agreed to move on and not talk about it anymore, that was a dumb question.”

“Yeah,” Sakura replied softly, staring at you with a blank stare. “All the time.”

“Kkura…”

“Remember that video we accidentally made?” Sakura giggled with an undertone of sadness to it, or perhaps nostalgia.

“How could I forget,” you smiled back at her, reminiscing about your past with the girl.

“I still have it.”

—

“You got this! No! Yes! Noooo.”

“Why am I so bad at this!”

“It’s okay my little cherry blossom, you were so close,” you reassured her while rubbing her shoulder. “Honestly that was just unlucky.”

“Play a round, I’m going to grab some water,” Sakura sighed with pure dejection, making no attempt to hide her sense of defeat.

It felt a tiny bit strange playing again after so long, but it didn’t take long as soon as your fingers felt those lovely mechanical keycaps. There was barely any need for a warm up - it helped that Sakura was considerably lower ranked than you. Not that you were proud to be smurfing, but it did make you feel pretty good knowing you weren’t completely washed at the game.

“How’s it going?” Sakura asked as she walked back into her room, still looking a bit down as she closed the door behind her.

“Oh I’m getting super lucky,” you lied, knowing very well how easy this game was so far. “Here, come finish this one.”

“Play it out, I’ll watch,” she said while taking a seat on your lap. “Wait, you’re… this isn’t even close.”

“Nah it’s not like that,” you teased while flashing the scoreboard for a brief second.

“How do you already have…” she sighed heavily, letting her shoulders noticeably drop as she slumped. “Don’t lose now.”

“I’ll try,” you replied while giving her a gentle kiss on the back of her head before positioning yourself in a way that you could see over her shoulder. “For you,” you added, letting go of the mouse for a moment to give her thigh a little squeeze.

Sakura’s delightful flowery shampoo was a bit distracting, but not as much as her firm ass on your lap. By a bit, you meant incredibly, you could feel the blood slowly moving to your crotch, but you forced yourself to stay focused. The game went on, despite Sakura’s body being right there between your arms, elimination after elimination with hardly any resistance. It was far from impressive in your eyes, but Sakura’s reaction made it feel special.

“Wow!” she gasped, doing a little hop on your lap after yet another successful teamfight. “Damn, you really make it look easy!”

That’s because it was easy, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel the corners of your lips rise at Sakura's animated reactions: The little cheers when you got an elimination, the gasps when you barely escaped. Her whole body would move and sway, almost as if she was unable to control herself, yet each little bounce of her ass also felt incredibly intentional - like she was trying to make you lose.

“You did it!” she shouted. “Clean sweep incoming?”

“I’m only playing this well because you’re sitting on my lap,” you praised her, hugging her while you waited for the last round to start, earning a little giggle from the adorable girl. “Now, stop being so cute.”

She brought her hands up to her mouth, stifling another giggle playfully. You gave her another little peck on the back of her head as you pushed toward the point. Just like the first round, this one went as smoothly as you would have imagined. That was, until, your team got a bit overzealous. Some may even say cocky, and in their defense it was probably in part due to how easy you were making this game for them.

“If you win this round I’ll give you head,” Sakura blurted out after seeing your team struggling. She definitely assumed it was already over.

Luckily for you, the other team clearly fluked their way to making this round competitive, and you turned it around without much contest. You couldn't help but smile at how easy they made it, silently thanking Sakura’s low elo for putting you up against them. The girl in question had leaned forward, hyper-focused on your gameplay. This did also result in her ass pressing even harder against your body - tempting you to forget about the game to bend her over the desk right then and there.

“Deal,” you teased Sakura after setting yourself up for a sure win.

“I forgot how good you were,” she commented quietly, watching the screen attentively in awe.

“How about this,” you continued after wiping the enemy team once again. “You finish off this game, see what you can do.”

“No no no, I’ll lose,” she quickly shot down the idea, leaning back almost in fear.

Ignoring her protests, you grabbed her arms and placed them on the keyboard and mouse.

“You got this, I believe in you,” you reassured her while nuzzling your face on her shoulder. She was shaking slightly, her nervousness was so ridiculously adorable. After placing your hand on top of hers, you steadied her slightly, calming her nerves. “Breath. You got this, it’s just a game.”

She took a deep breath before leaning forward slightly and focusing. You leaned back to give her space, and your eyes couldn’t help but take a peek at the gorgeous shape of her backside. The way her thin hips made the shape of her ass so much more defined drove you insane. After adoring her heart-shaped ass for a few moments, you shifted your attention to the game.

The way Sakura would maneuver her whole body when she would move in game, the way she would duck her head when she took cover, the way she would make little gasps and take sharp inhales every time she took a hit, it all accumulated into a whole package of irresistible cuteness. That endearing nature of her every action whenever she was gaming was something you found painfully adorable.

It was getting tense, any lead you had built up was erased at this point. Frankly, she should have lost already, but somehow she was holding on. While fumbling with her keys, she eventually equalized the situation again, but she was panicking. Despite that, you found it so exciting watching how into it she was, finding yourself engrossed in her gameplay.

“Come on, you got this,” you muttered under your breath, placing your hands on her hips. “You’re better than them.”

She was way too focused to reply, but you did notice a subtle shift in her posture as she moved forward even more. Her hands were no longer shaking at all, it looked like she was at least somewhat calm and in control now. You gave her hips a tiny little squeeze, reminding her that you were here with her.

The final engagement began. Once again, you were extremely grateful that the last opponent was terrible as mistake after mistake eventually led to Sakura being in a position of sure victory. As one opponent remained, she forgot about all the mechanics of the game and just pressed forward with seemingly nothing but a prayer going on in her head.

“Yes!” she squealed as the word ‘victory’ flashed on the screen.

“I never doubted for a second!” you cheered, squeezing her tightly from behind. “Knew you had it in you!”

Her heavy breaths and limp body made it seem like she had just run a marathon.

“Thanks,” she sighed, leaning backwards on your chest and rubbing your arms with her hands.

“What for? I didn’t do anything.”

“For believing in me,” she laughed, turning her head sideways to give you a kiss. “I didn’t even believe in myself.”

“Oh, well I did have some extra motivation,” she whispered, tightening your grip on her waist. “What were you saying you would do if I won this game again?”

She squirmed a bit, grinding her ass on your crotch very intentionally now.

“I think I said if you win,” she teased. “Last I checked, I’m the one who one.”

“Is that how we’re playing it?”

“I don’t make the rules.”

“Fine,” you said while sliding your hand towards her crotch, gently pressing down on the fabric of her pants. “Play one more game, if you can win again then I’ll do anything you want for the rest of the night.”

“And what if I lose?” she asked while starting the queue.

“You’re going to get a little punishment,” you whispered into her ear while pressing harder on her crotch, making little circles. “But you’re not going to lose, right?”

“R-Right,” she stammered, getting flustered by your touch.

As soon as the game started, you slipped your hand into her pants.

“Ah,” she gasped, “you know, you’re making it really hard to focus.”

“Am I?” you asked innocently, playing with her underwear. There was a growing wet spot, and the more you played with her the bigger it grew. “You did the same to me,” you dismissed her complaint. “It’s almost like I want you to lose.”

It was admirable how she was trying to ignore the stimulation, but her body simply could not hide how she really felt. Her soft, wet folds felt remarkable, even through her underwear. You gently moved your fingers around, smiling as she failed miserably in the game while her pussy got warmer from your touch.

The game so far was a complete stomp, not that you cared at all. At this point, you had slipped your hand into her underwear, rubbing her wetness around between your fingers. You had Sakura squirming like a puppet while you gently played with her clit, toying at the idea of slipping a finger into her pussy. It never happened, even as the game neared the end, you just kept teasing her with your fingertip pressing against her entrance.

“That’s not fair,” she whined as ‘defeat’ covered the screen. “You cheated.”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” you teased back. “Looks like you lost.”

She squeezed her legs together in an attempt to get some reprieve from your fingers.

“What’s the little punishment?” she moaned as you kept trying to move your hand back and forth despite her tightly clenched thighs holding your wrist.

“Don’t think of it as a punishment for you,” you answered, standing up and removing your hand from Sakura’s pants. You brought your finger up to her mouth, letting her taste herself, while with your other hand you pressed down on her upper back until she was bent over her desk. “Think of it as more of a reward for me.”

“And what’s your reward?” Sakura asked, turning her head to look over her shoulder back at you.

“You’re my reward,” you replied, sliding both of your hands down the front of her waistband, feeling her body closely as you slid your hands around her hips until you reached either side of her body. In a single motion, you yanked down both her pants and underwear, letting them fall into a heap at her ankles.

Sakura stepped out of the clothes, kicking them to the side before swaying her ass side to side for you, giving you a show as you freed yourself of your own pants. She thought she knew exactly what was about to happen, but what she didn’t expect was the loud crack of your palm spanking her ass, sending ripples down her thighs.

“Oh!” she gasped in shock, looking back at you again.

“That’s because you’re still wearing a shirt.”

“I’m sorry babe,” Sakura stripped the shirt off before immediately bending over the desk again.

“Good,” you brought your palm down again, this time to her other cheek, eliciting another high pitched squeal from the girl. Without even lifting your palm up from her ass, you slid it up her body, feeling her toned back meticulously, wrapping your hand around her body and cupping her left tit in your fingers. “Ready to get fucked?” you whispered into her ear from behind while pinching her nipple between your fingers.

“Ah,” Sakura’s shriek pierced your ears as she jolted violently at your touch. “Fucking punish me babe.”

Your cock was itching to enter Sakura, practically begging as it twitched. You let go of her nipple, slapped her ass with your hand again and spread her cheek. With your other hand, you lined your cock up with her pussy, getting ready to take what you so desperately desired.

“Wait,” Sakura reached over and opened the top drawer of her desk, pulling out a small bottle that she held for you to take.

“Why do you-” you paused, accepting the bottle before you realized what was going on. “Oh.”

“If you’re going to punish me, punish me properly,” Sakura moaned, reaching back with both hands to spread her ass for you.

Your girlfriend spoke to you in ways no one else could, she did something to you that just drove you to be absolutely psychotic for her. The view of her bent ninety degrees over her desk reaching back with both hands to present her asshole to you was driving you absolutely feral. Taking Sakura in the ass was usually saved for special occasions; It was always an astounding experience.

Did you know why today was a special occasion? No. Did you care? No. Were your hands trembling in anticipation as you opened the bottle of lube? Yes. You flipped the bottle over and squeezed a hefty dollop of lube at the top of Sakura’s ass, letting it spill down slowly. It was difficult to stay patient, but you took your time to make sure she was completely slick, using your hand to spread the lube thoroughly.

Her soft ass, glistening as you massaged the lube into it, felt like heaven between your fingers. You could tell she was getting excited, but Sakura stayed silent, committing to the bit. She wasn’t about to show you her elation - this was a punishment after all.

It was, however, a punishment only by name. You knew how much Sakura loved taking it in the ass, so you wanted to make sure she actually enjoyed it to her full potential. Once you were satisfied with how slippery and shiny her body had become, you wiped whatever was left on your hand across your shaft. The idea of lubing up your cock as well immediately disappeared when you noticed Sakura’s pussy was literally dripping at this point.

After lining up behind her, in one slow and continuous motion, you pushed your cock into Sakura’s pussy until your thighs pressed into her soft ass. You held your cock balls deep in her for just a couple of seconds before moving back equally as slowly, leaving Sakura moaning as your cock left her pussy.

Her pussy, ever so slightly spread now, was glistening before you. Part of you wanted to go back in, but your true objective was lubed up staring right at you. Sakura’s tight asshole was begging for your cock at this point, welcoming your cock. You gave yourself a couple of quick strokes, spreading Sakura’s wetness on your cock before you pressed your tip against her hole.

“Push back,” you commanded her, your tip just slightly spreading her tight asshole apart.

As she leaned back, the slickness of your bodies ended up flinging your cock upwards, slotting it between Sakura’s ass cheeks. You gave her ass another hard spank, as if it was her fault, before lining yourself up with her asshole again.

“Again.”

This time, you held your cock more firmly, letting Sakura do the work once more. It felt fucking divine as your cock disappeared into her asshole inch by inch. She kept pushing back, slowly but surely pushing into almost your entire cock was up her ass. She was tight - unbelievably tight - but it was perfect.

“There we go,” you groaned as you started pumping your hips into her steadily.

Sakura was clearly struggling, even with all the lube, but she never complained or stopped. She moved her hips as much as she could, trying to match your pace at least to some degree. The two of you ended up working together, fighting against the tightness of her asshole as it was sending electric shocks up your spine, the tightness and heat combining in a beautiful mosaic of pleasure, attacking all the nerves in your cock.

The view was equally as beautiful. Sakura’s toned back staring right at you, the way her head dipped down each time your cock pressed forward, her shoulder blades retracting as her arms stretched out, it was all so surreal. Despite her obvious struggle, it was clear that she was enjoying herself, confirmed by one of her hand’s slipping down between her legs.

Her asshole kept taking your cock for a bit longer. Her pussy, with the help of her fingers, launched droplets of her wetness down her inner legs. She was a complete mess at this point, her lower body completely soaked. Her legs even began to tremble slightly.

The signs of her pleasure just gave you all the more motivation to start pushing deeper. Each time you pushed your cock into her ass, you were nearly going all the way. With how well she was taking it now, nothing could hold you back as you started thrusting faster and harder, easing her into more intensity. That was until you had a new idea.

“Turn your webcam on,” you instructed her, pausing your thrusting for a second.

Sakura reached for the mouse, navigating her way through menus while your cock was still balls deep in her asshole. Each time she was about to click, you gave a little half thrust, making her miss again and again.

“Fuck off,” she moaned, desperately clicking until she got the webcam open. “Now what?”

“Fullscreen it, I wanna watch your face while I fuck you.”

She tried to follow your command, but your cock was ready to go and you had started pumping her tight little asshole properly now. She got absolutely no reprieve, not an ounce of amnesty as your cock invaded her body over and over again.

“I can’t fucking…” she cried out before giving up on trying to click entirely, remembering she could fullscreen it by pressing ‘F’ on the keyboard. She slammed her hand against the keys, finally succeeding.

“Good girl,” you taunted her, pausing again to give her ass another hefty slap.

Sakura began checking herself out in the webcam, trying to fix her hair while your hand squeezed and groped her asscheek. You pushed your cock back and forth slowly, enjoying the tight grip of her asshole, watching as Sakura’s face strained itself in a mix of pleasure and struggle. Once she was content with how her hair looked, she bent forward, putting her elbows on the desk.

“The whole point was so I can watch you get fucked,” you grunted as your cock got closer and closer to your orgasm, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking it back roughly while making sure not to actually hurt her, forcing her head back.

“Then hurry up and fuck me,” she moaned, leaving her mouth open while her head was controlled by the grip you had on her hair. “Fucking cum in my ass already.”

With your free hand, you gave her ass yet another hard slap - this one echoed in the room. You could see Sakura’s reaction so vividly - she definitely felt that one. At this point though, you actually didn’t care. You let go of her hair and grabbed her ass with both hands, struggling to get a proper grip because of all the lube and sweat coating her skin, but you pressed your fingers hard into her soft ass, gripping whatever you could.

Now, with your new support, you could give each thrust the entire force of your body. Each slam sent Sakura’s entire body shaking, threatening to break the desk she was so desperately clinging onto. There was a constant barrage of noises escaping Sakura’s lips combined with the burning pleasure flooding your cock as Sakura’s asshole brought you dangerously close to your orgasm.

It was impossible to stop now. Your vision was going blurry, your extremities were going numb, all the sensation in the world was being split between your ears and your cock. Her moans, her squeals, the constant porn-star level screams and shouts, muffled only in part by the sound of skin on skin whenever your cock jammed itself into her tight ass.

There wasn’t much left in the tank, you were starting to lose strength as you rode the brink of your orgasm for as long as you could. You were hyperventilating at this point, using every remaining ounce your body could muster to keep going, to keep pumping your beautifully tight girlfriend.

At long last, your cock began exploding inside Sakura’s ass. The overwhelming pleasure froze your entire body, sending two or three more torrents of cum deep into her body. Once the most intense moment passed, you coaxed the rest of your cum out by pumping her ass again, moving your hips more slowly and methodically now, timing each thrust with each spurt of cum.

Finally you looked back up, leaving your cock embedded balls deep in Sakura’s ass. She had let her head fall again, her shoulders bouncing up and down with each heavy breath she took. Her hands, balled up in fists, were still trembling on the desk as you grabbed her hair, twisting your hand to get a handful of it, and pulled back so that she was extending her neck backwards. You forcefully pressed your mouth against her slightly parted lips, her warm breath hitting you.

“I’m never getting tired of this,” you moaned into her mouth. “I fucking love you, my little cherry blossom.”

“I love you… too…” she panted back, still struggling to breathe.

It was finally time, as your cock began to soften, to pull out. With a hand on her ass, you pulled your hips back. It was like watching a dam burst with how much cum gushed out of her asshole as soon as you removed your cock.

“Fucking hell,” you panted, sitting down on the floor and scooting back so that your back was resting against the base of Sakura’s bed. In front of you, Sakura was still bent over her desk with her ass up, using her arms to hold herself up as the bend of her knees made it clear her legs could no longer hold her body up. It was quite the view for you to enjoy, watching as your cum slowly dripped out of Sakura’s asshole and onto the floor. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Sakura answered softly. “But my ass is killing me right now.”

“Come here.”

Sakura pushed herself up off the desk with her arms before turning around, gingerly walking over to you. She lowered herself to the ground, sitting next to you on her side to prevent her ass from touching the floor, leaning against you with her arms around your torso.

“You were such a trooper tonight,” you whispered gently as you wrapped your arm around her body before giving her a kiss. You very lightly slipped your hand between her cheeks, using one finger to massage her asshole. “Does that feel better?”

“Mhmm,” she moaned cutely.

“Good,” you kissed the top of her head as you ran circles around her asshole with your finger.

“Want me to clean your cock off?” Sakura asked casually, sliding one hand down and giving you a couple of playful pumps.

“It’s alright, you’ve done enough for me already.”

“I always do this,” Sakura completely ignored your denial, bending forward over your lap, pausing for just a second to look back at you. “Please only one finger tonight.”

Even though you couldn’t see past the back of her head, you could vividly feel the warmth of her mouth the second she put your cock into her mouth. She sucked your cock with no regard for how filthy the act was, she had absolutely no hesitation - that was probably the hottest part of it all. You let her do her work while your body came back to life, somehow after all that you could feel your cock stiffening yet again.

As per her request, you carefully inserted just your middle finger a knuckle deep into her asshole, being as slow and cautious as possible. You paused for a second when you felt her mouth stop moving, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. Once you felt her tongue start swirling around your cock again, you started to gently massage the inside of her asshole.

The mixture of lube, cum, tightness, and warmth felt surprisingly nice on your finger. Hopefully it felt equally nice for Sakura, the girl deserved it with how much enthusiasm she was putting into sucking your cock right now. Her tongue was working overtime, licking every single bit of your shaft, while her lips moved up and down your tip rapidly.

It all happened so fast, without warning you felt a sudden rush of sensation in your cock. Within seconds, you felt your cum launch directly into Sakura’s mouth with the force of a bullet. You were paralyzed briefly as your cock began spewing cum all over her mouth, filling her to the point of overflow, the warm goo mixed with Sakura’s saliva began landing on your crotch.

“Oh my fucking God,” you gasped, regaining consciousness.

“Fin’er,” Sakura moaned at you as she turned her head to face you, a gush of white spilling out of her lips.

“What?” you asked, before realizing you had shoved your finger all the way into her asshole. “Oh!” you gasped before quickly pulling it out.

Sakura gulped heavily, wiping the tears from her eyes as the cum that didn’t spill onto her chin rushed down her throat. She lay her head down on your legs, her cheek against your thigh.

“That really fucking hurt,” she whined. “And no warning?”

“My ba-”

“Have I been punished enough for my actions yet?” she asked, pouting her lips at you.

“Yes, your punishment is over,” you smiled at her, grabbing your limp cock and placing it on her face playfully.

She smiled at you adorable before giving your cock a quick kiss and getting up to her feet.

“We’re both messes,” she stated, looking back over her shoulder and spreading her ass, letting some more remnants of your cum spill to the floor. “I’m not ‘cleaning’ you up out here again, not after that. You can join me in the shower if you want my help this time.”

“Sorry about the finger,” you apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed proudly. “With how much you filled my mouth with, I can’t even be upset that you lost control.”

“I don’t know what happened, all of a sudden I just…”

“You’re welcome,” Sakura giggled, leaning down and kissing your cheek before turning around and walking gleefully towards the bathroom.

All you could do was stare at her glistening ass as it jiggled with every step, really taking in the fact that Sakura has been your girlfriend for almost a year at this point. In your eyes, she was perfect, she was everything you wanted in a girl. You couldn’t imagine a life without her being there by your side as your partner.

After a few seconds, you heard the shower turn on in the bathroom. As you got up to join her, you noticed something on the computer screen that must have happened when she was trying to fullscreen the webcam - she had started a recording.

---

A/N:

Ask and you shall receive, thank you for those who voted in that poll! I might end up doing polls every now and then again because you guys responded so well to it, and it absolutely motivated me to work on this fic. That being said, keep it up, I can't stress enough how much I love all the support my readers show, I'll continue to read every comment/message/etc.!

Random Sakura chapter. Well, random for you guys, I knew about this one coming of course. Hope you guys like it, this one took me a tiny bit longer than expected, partially because of life being busy, but mostly because I just couldn't quite figure out how I wanted to write some stuff out in this one. Regardless, it's done now, I'm too lazy to spend days proofreading and editing it.

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #sakura #sakura smut #le sserafim #le sserafim smut

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alexwilltellyouthings · 2 months ago

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What if the confession happened as Edwin planned?

"I've been realizing that I..."

Charles is staring intently. Edwin can see he has no clue what's coming and it makes it easier and harder at the same time.

He almost wishes they were interrupted. Almost.

"I...", Edwin loses his words again, and looks down, sideways, trying to gather his courage anywhere else as if he doesn't know Charles' eyes are the only right place to look at.

For once, Charles doesn't say anything, sensing he needs time. Still, Edwin sees a frown just starting to form, and knows he has to get this over with for both of their sakes.

"It is not Monty", he says quickly, gazing back at Charles, "that I like".

Charles properly frowns now. After a couple of seconds, his expression changes entirely, going from confused to bewildered, and Edwin reads him easily.

"Not the Cat King, either."

Charles breathes out, breaking his composure entirely. "Thank God, mate. I mean, I wouldn't judge your taste or anything..."

Edwin raises an eyebrow and Charles chuckles.

"Okay, maybe I would, so I'm glad it's not him. But then who...?"

Edwin feels his throat close. Charles is searching him, waiting for an answer he, by all means, should know.

Edwin just stares back for a second, then two, then three, until Charles is not confused anymore. The crease between his eyebrows slowly fades and his lips part open just slightly.

Edwin gulps. "Who else?", he nearly whispers.

Charles' eyes are franctically moving between Edwin's and he tries to say something, but doesn't seem to be able to form any proper words.

Edwin rushes to continue, "You don't have to feel the same. I just needed to tell you".

And while it feels like every part of him is burning, Edwin still doesn't think this is over, not yet, so he licks his lips nervously and adds quietly: "That I'm in love with you".

That hits Charles so strongly he sways a little bit, and only then looks away.

"I, uh", he starts stupidly. "Edwin, I don't even..."

"You don't have to say anything..."

"No, but I want to", Charles says, and his own words bring him back to a steadier mindset. He takes a deep breath and sets his hands over Edwin's shoulders. "Edwin, you're my best mate. That'll never change. You're the most important person in the world to me, okay?"

Edwin nods, feeling as if it wasn't for Charles' hands, he would be combusting.

"And I don't..." Charles' grip gets a little tighter for a moment. "I don't know what that means right now, for us, or for me, but we have all the time in the world to figure it out, yeah?"

Edwin smiles without meaning to. He notices his eyes are tearful, for some reason, and Charles smiles back while bringing a hand up to dry Edwin's cheeks as those tears fall down.

"Thank you for telling me", Charles completes, and pulls Edwin into a hug.

Edwin allows it and allows himself to melt into the embrace. He agrees — they have all the time in the world, and this is just the beginning.

#this just came out very suddenly idk what happened #besides the fact I just watched the scene lmao and I've always wondered what Edwin would say if the NN didn't interrupt them #dead boy detectives #dbda #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #painland #fanfic

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arolesbianism · 8 months ago

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Starting a new oni save that's not a rime colony for the first time in forever and I am in agony how do y'all live like this (shaking and crying as it is forced to enter a mildly warm area for drekos)

#rat rambles #oni posting #also makes guiser taming more annoying but its ok I can manage #my main goal for this playthrough is to make more use of automation and spoms #my last one isnt necessarily being completely abandoned I just wanted to try getting off of rime for a bit #I miss the hypothermia pop ups every five seconds but on the bright side I dont have to worry abt my water supply freezing #Im also trying some other new things and just trying to be more ambitious in general #I managed to force myself to upgrade my bathrooms within the first 50 cycles are you proud of me #I also am making better use of hydro whatever farm plots for my obligatory bristleberry farm #thoroughly enjoying the lessened dupe labor even if it puts a bit more pressure on my initial water supply #I do have a steam vent and a salt water guiser nearby tho so Im not particularly worried #mainly Im just figuring out how I wanna go abt cooling it #my salt water guiser is right by a tundra biome with a cooling machine right inside it so I could attempt to use that #but from my multiple attempts to utilize that thing it's a bit hard to use for liquid cooling #I also think I might build my spom in that same biome so idk #I do have a second tundra biome thats also right next to the saltwater biome but Im trying to preserve it best I can to wildfarm sleet weat #I have also made the laziest drowning chamber I could manage and its called building my hatch ranch over my water tank #plus a critter sensory autosweeper and conveyor loader #it does overkill a lil every time it activates but its ok Im lazy enough to live with it #I also have some pacu and a crab in there so its a whole party in there #this is also going to be my first time having sanishells once I get an egg #not going to properly ranch them tho I kind of just took one to use as a trash can for my early polluted dirt #also Im glad I was able to get onto bristle berries as a primary food source quickly this time around #Im not going to go crazy expanding it for now since I have a couple other crops Im planning on getting going soon as well #mainly lettus and sleet wheat once I find some pips #then I can have early frost burgers if I want. I wont since I havent found any natural gas vents yet but y'know #speaking of oh 4 natural gass vents all near eachother on my last save how I miss you you made power so easy #on the bright side Ill have an oil biome that isn't filled with solid oil this time lol #I should rly make some actual use of oil this time around #hey who knows maybe Ill get far enough to make a sour gas boiler (lying)

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soapssuds · 2 months ago

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stubborn heart ch. 4

yan!capitano x wife!reader

summary | or in which capitano is told he needs a wife. and he begrudgingly agrees.

warnings | shower scene, nudity (but nothing is described), etc.

note | i have rewritten this chapter four times, and i still don't like how this turned out...

previous | next

You were gone a total of four hours, and you managed to snag a hefty amount of books from the store in town. Truthfully, you were planning on finding a job as well but figured that taking some time off from working every single day of your life would do you some good, which was how you found yourself back in your shared room, your books stacked onto your nightstand, a heavy and warm blanket on your shoulders and a book in your grasp. Your eyes devouring each word they flitted across the sentences on the page.

When you had come back, you had finally met some of the maids and butlers that worked in the mansion. They told you that Capitano wanted to speak with you alone before which was why they hadn’t been around. Which made sense. Being alone with Capitano would make anyone nervous. Especially you.

After you met the servants that worked for Capitano in his manor, they had left you to your own devices as you sought to read alone in your room.

Which was exactly what you did until night fell.

“M’lady, dinner is ready.”

“Alright! I’ll be down in a moment.”

That was another thing you had to get used to… others making food for you. It was definitely something you were never accustomed to even when you were younger.

“Please hurry down, Lord Capitano has already come home and is waiting for you.”

At the mention of his name you had slammed your book shut and tossed the covers off yourself as you rushed for the door. Swinging it open haphazardly, the maid behind it jumped a little in surprise.

“He’s here?!”

“Yes, he actually just got here-“

You hastily left your room and ran down the hall in the direction that you remember the dining room was. You weren’t a noble lady, not in the slightest. But you knew not to make a lord waiting. Father often scolded you for it. Especially since you had a tendency of getting too lost in your books when you should have been working.

“Ah, there she is,” you huffed a little as you smoothed out your dress. Your eyes scanning the room carefully.

Capitano was already sitting at his seat, your own seat was already prepared for you to his right.

Quickly trying to calm your racing heart, you carefully walked to your seat where a maid was waiting for you to pull your chair out for you.

“Capitano,” you greeted almost a bit shyly, “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“I didn’t wait long.”

He turned to look at you, and you couldn’t deny the way your body fidgeted underneath his gaze.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

You were surprised momentarily at his question. You wondered if he was asking because he was interested, but you quickly threw that thought out the window. He was probably just making small talk…

“Yes, I did. Though, I haven’t found a job yet.”

Capitano hmmed at the news, “was the cold alright?”

“I dressed warmly enough,” you answered.

Before he could ask anything else, you were thankful that the food started to come out from the kitchen, A true blessing in disguise as you fearfully came to realize that you didn’t know how to properly talk to the man. And I am supposed to sleep next to him tonight too?!

You mentally despaired over the thought. You desperately hoped you didn’t sleep walk or talk, because you didn’t want him to think any less of you than he already does.

“Thank you for the food!”

But you guessed that would be a problem for later tonight.

…

When dinner finally concluded and you found yourself walking next to Capitano, you couldn’t help but to give him a few side glances here and there. Throughout all of dinner you couldn’t help but to stress over sleeping next to the man, and now it was quickly becoming a reality!

Coming to your shared room, Capitano opened the door for you, and when you walked in, he walked past you and towards the bathroom that was on the far side.

“Did you shower today?”

You shook your head, “no, not yet.”

“Then join me.”

You paused and let his words sink in for a moment, “hah?”

Capitano looked to you, “you will not be having a traditional honeymoon and I hear that a substitute for such a thing will be spending time together.”

You started to fidget with your fingers, “well, I mean… that’s true, but its just as you said before. Don’t expect anything.”

Capitano fully turned to you then, “but is it not expected that a husband and wife spend time together?”

He got you there, and he was right on some level. Not to mention you wanted to be a little selfish.

This wasn’t a conventional wedding. You doubted you would be getting your own happy ending anytime soon, so why not take what he offers from time to time. He’s says not to expect anything, so what was wrong with taking what he does offer? Besides, what was the harm with bathing with a man?

Your confidence was quick to whither, however the moment you entered the bathroom with him. The shower already running hot as Capitano began to undress. You never saw a man naked before. Not once. And your naivety was beginning to show.

Oh wow, you thought as you got to see his bare chest. You thought his face was a work of art, but his upper body was something else.

“Get undressed,” he ordered, his tone a bit harsh as he started to unbuckle his pants.

Shakingly, you started to undo your buttons.

Despite being married to the man now, this whole situation made you unbearably nervous. Your original thoughts of just takin what he offered soon dwindling into ash. And just as you slipped out of your dress and undergarments and even undid your hair, you found yourself closing your eyes tight the moment you heard Capitano’s pants fall and pool around his feet.

You felt embarrassment course through your veins when you didn’t hear him say anything, but luckily you didn’t have to dwell on it when you felt his hand encase itself around your arm and pull you along and into the shower.

The warm water hit you immediately, making you relax momentarily.

“Is this not comforting to you?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine despite the hot water that soaked you. You could tell he was behind you, his chest barely touching your back.

“I- I am still getting used to being married, I’m afraid…”

“We do not have to consummate this marriage yet. Though, in order for this marriage to be be seen as legitimate, we will have to be intimate with one another eventually. However, I will not force you into such arrangements until you are… used to being married.”

“Is showering together a part of me getting used to it,” you asked.

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is our honeymoon. But it is also a way for you to get used to me. Mainly because it is obvious you haven’t seen a naked man before.”

You felt your face heat up instantly, and it wasn’t because of the hot water.

“Look at me when I talk to you.”

He turned you around easily, the slip of the water not helping you in the slightest as you found yourself looking up at the harbinger. And as you looked up at his face, you were awestruck with how handsome he was. Archons truly have their favorites when blessing people with good looks.

“Still not looking at all of me, but that is alright. I don’t want you fainting again.”

His words had you blushing as he leant down to you. The action catching you off guard when he placed his lips over yours.

He was kissing you again.

“I heard it was custom to kiss on your honeymoon as well, among other things, but a kiss and shower shall do good for replacements instead,” he said against your lips before deepening the kiss.

It was the longest kiss you had with him so far. You didn’t know where to put your hands, or how to move your head, so you let him do all the work while also relaxing in the hot water that cascaded over you both as you closed your eyes.

This wasn’t a bad honeymoon.

But of course, what he gives is taken away all too soon as you find yourself preparing for bed. Your nightgown already thrown over you as you are already sitting in the bed and are waiting for him.

He gave you kiss to commemorate your wedding, and a kiss and a shower together for your honeymoon.

It was more than you expected, but you were thankful.

“I’ll be gone early in the morning.”

Capitano said as he exited the bathroom, “we will not see each other for next coming of weeks.”

“Is it a mission,” you asked.

“...Yes. While I am gone, I expect you to be loyal and do not worry about a job for now.”

It kind of hurt to know that he thinks you will cheat on him, but it was understandable. He knows nothing of you. Only that you embarrass yourself easily and come from the Hearth. But the same could be said for him. What if he cheats?

As he got into bed beside you, you found that you couldn’t voice your concerns. He still scared you after all.

“Goodnight… wife.”

The single title surprised you as did other things, but you ignored the light thumping of your heart as much as possible, “goodnight husband.”

You hoped that whatever the future had in store for you would be good.

taglist

@nas-ha @simp-simp-no-mi @emmathecouchpotato4583 @sendria @riotakire @littlekohai77 @lvtuss @kreishin @floffytofu @nastylilcvnt @mikoslightnovels @feral-childs-word @barbatoss-bitch @venicecherryblossom @squirrelboxer @temperamentupgrade @naviabestgiirl @avalordream @immahuman @xavlyzn @greensunflowerjuna

some say "no blogs found" when I try to add them </3

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin capitano #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano #yandere capitano x you #yandere capitano x y/n #capitano x reader #capitano x you #capitano x y/n #capitano

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