#stop making average white guys out as sex gods

[limits-and-derivatives]

Bro that nmacc thing in Mumbai 💀💀 I'd be embarassed to be seen with that man if I was zendaya

[campgender]

from The Preacher’s Wife: The Precarious Power of Evangelical Women Celebrities by Kate Bowler (2019)

transcript below the cut

[…] common when couples adopted an official or unofficial co-pastor model, effectively rendering themselves professionally married.

Ed and Lisa Young made national headlines for their co-authored book, Sexperiment, which found the couple in a bed on the roof of their Texas church for twenty-four live-streamed hours to chat mostly with other famous megachurch spouses about “tantalizing truths about sex as God intended.” Though Ed was temporarily treated for an eye injury sustained from the camera lights reflecting off the white bedsheets, the stunt was a rousing success.

When they challenged married couples in their twenty-five-thousand-member congregation to have sex for seven days in a row, “the guys gave us a standing ovation,” said Ed Young in his CNN interview, while Lisa chimed in that “God is the author and creator of sex.”

She sat beside her husband in a leopard-print dress, her long straight hair framing her carefully made-up face; and while she spoke a pop-up caption on the television under her read: “Married to Ed for more than 26 years. They have four children.” In advertisements, she appeared in yet another leopard-print dress, pulling her husband suggestively by the tie toward her on the couch. Sexual prowess became another bit of expected expertise in a megachurch wife’s grab bag of tricks.

There was an accepted cruelty toward famous women in ministry who failed to meet these standards. In the era of “militant feminism,” Ruth Peale begged feminists to stop warring against male exploitation and realize that the “real enemy” was their own lack of femininity. Women who didn’t want to be sexualized, she worried, might make “downright frigid” sexual partners.

Likewise, Beverly LaHaye initially felt sorry for a woman being berated by her husband for looking tired on a date, but then sympathized with the husband for not having a wife with a little more pride in herself. “What a pity to see a Christian woman who has developed her inner beauty but has done nothing to the frame she must house it in,” she fretted.

The common argument given was that men were visual creatures, which made women’s appearance a part of her wifely duties. Her beauty and her sexuality were not her own. When Ted Haggard, megachurch pastor and leader of the National Association of Evangelicals, was caught with a gay prostitute, fellow megachurch pastor Mark Driscoll publicly aired his concerns about “a wife who lets herself go and is not sexually available to her husband.”

Mark had already made headlines on his own accord for having instructed a woman in his church to give her husband a blow job as an apology for not “serving” him. There was always a woman to blame for a man who strayed.

Even the matronly Terrie Chappell, who described herself as a “meek-spirited woman of God” who serves “joyfully and faithfully” by the side of her husband, confessed her enduring wish to meet megaministry’s unrealistic standards. That perfect woman, she wrote, looks “fresh and attractive all the time. Her hair always does what she wants it to do and it’s never flat. Her fingernails are never broken.”

This ideal woman also doubled as a domestic expert who, with a submissive and cheerful spirit, “bakes everything from scratch” and always sticks to her diet. Terrie’s online ministry painted a much more realistic picture of her life as a grandmother who was never far from a prim pearl necklace and a crockpot recipe, who often helped lead an old-fashioned “Ladies Ministry” with classes called “Kindred Hearts,” “Ladies of Today,” and “H.O.M.E.” (Helping Our Mothers Excel). Her book, covered in images of cupcakes, lingered on the trials of putting up floral wallpaper and learning to be patient.

In 2017, the average megachurch wife was around Terrie’s age, wrestling with approaching retirement, and lightly out of step with American culture. She was hardly the sexpot that dominated the marketing of the women in the highest rungs of megaministry, strutting across the mainstage, but audiences still seemed to want her to try.

[gojology]

— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

   Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

    You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

    Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin. 

    You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately. 

    It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone. 

    “Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?” 

    You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

    Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes.     “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.” 

    He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

    “W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often.    “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

    The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it. 

    For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated. 

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

   The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

   But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:    

   Was he too out-of-date?    

   The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

     And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

     What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

     Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t. 

     So why did you like him? 

     Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth. 

     He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

     Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

      “Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

     “Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense. 

    “What has gotten into you?” you murmur. 

    “I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-” 

    “No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside.      Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that.       You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work. 

   Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours. 

    Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.” 

   This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that? 

   “Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.” 

   Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go. 

   But he never did. 

[pedropascalunofficial]

Pedro Pascal and Lena Headey

Head to head interview

Hunger Magazine, Issue 6. Released December 28, 2014. Photoshoot October 15, 2013.

Thirteen million. That's the number of people, on average, who tuned into each episode of the third season of Game of Thrones. Among them was Chilean actor Pedro Pascal, who was as enthralled by the sex and slaughter as the rest of us. But little did he know that within a few months he'd be pitching up on the shores of Belfast to join the cast as Oberyn Martell, affectionately known as the Red Viper. Sound ominous? It is. The Red Viper is GoTs newest anti-hero, “sexy and charming but driven by hate”. Sounds like he'll be right at home.

Pedro, on the other hand, though he looks good on paper, wasn't the obvious choice for the role. Expecting a big name to ride into King’s Landing, the show's fans took to forums to express their concerns as soon as the news broke. So is he worried? Like hell he is. “The fans had the part cast in their minds already. They knew who they wanted and it certainly was not me. But I'm not stupid, | presumed that people were going to say ‘who the fuck is this guy’. Since I anticipated the reaction it didn't throw me off.”

“There are so many different ways to go into battle with yourself when you're trying to get a job. I felt a certain amount of pressure because I wanted to make everyone happy. The fan base is so specific and, as a fan myself, I understand the relationship that they have with the show. The Red Viper is the best part I've ever played, and in season four shocks come at the most unexpected times. You might think you know, but you have no idea,” he explains.

Looks like the Red Viper could be in line to fill a Walter-White-sized-hole in television, but to test the theory we pit Pascal against Lena Headey, aka the Queen. Because if you can come away from Cersei unscathed, you can handle anything.

LH: So, Pedro, you come into Game of Thrones in season four, playing a pretty major character. Does that fill you with joy or dread?

PP: I'd say it fills me with joy because it’s a really fucking fun part. He’s a badass. He comes up against a lot of the main characters in the show. I'm very aware of the show. I watch it like a fan.

LH: Were you a fan before you arrived in Belfast?

PP: Yeah, I was a proper fan. I was caught up in the drama of it before I even auditioned for the part. I was already up to speed.

LH: I remember meeting you and thinking, “he fucking loves the show’.

PP: I kissed your ass.

LH: Well, it worked. We're friends now.

PP: I was like a tourist visiting the set, and yet I had to act with you and be in a scene with the characters that I had such a specific association with already.

LH: So you’re saying it’s boring?

PP: No, it wasn’t boring at all. It was extremely, relentlessly surreal.

LH: And who were your favourite characters up until that point?

PP: Not you.

LH: I realise that!

PP: There are too many characters to have a favourite, but I was fascinated by the Lannisters because they're so frightening. They scared me and then you would come in and pull sympathy from your audience somehow, and I found that rather fascinating. The Northerners were so easy to like or get behind, but it was quite something to see people sympathise with a Lannister, after you made people see things from their perspective.

LH: Speaking of being slightly ambiguous as a character, you come in as a major player and a very well-loved character in the eyes of people who read the books, and he’s somewhat of an anti-hero. Did you base him on anyone?

PP: What does an anti-hero mean exactly?

LH: It means he doesn't wear deodorant, doesn't it? [Laughs]. Someone you shouldn't champion, but you do, like Walter White in Breaking Bad.

PP: No, | didn’t really base him on anyone.

LH: Did you take anything from classic movies that you thought you could use and spin to your advantage playing the Red Viper?

PP: God, that’s a good question. I probably did subconsciously. Now I feel under the spotlight because I need to think of somebody, and I have so many in my mind! I think that’s something that is happening a lot in TV today: the anti-heroes are central to these television shows, and people are really getting behind them, even though they're not necessarily the most moral characters. So I'd say that ‘ve become more familiar with the character who's obviously very flawed but gets you on their side — you have complicated feelings about them. But I think I saw the story too much from this character's perspective to perceive any flaws.

LH: He has some.

PP: I know, from the outside. But I don't see any of them. What are his flaws?

LH: His flaws? He's a dirty bastard!

PP: Why is he a dirty bastard? He likes to fucking fight, for sure.

LH: Back to you as an actor. You've done it for a long time and, as we all know, the path is not always golden, and sometimes you think, “fuck it” and you want to leave it and do something else. Have there been moments where you wanted to give up?

PP: Yes, there have been moments where I came very close to giving up. But I never had anything to fall back on. I think you can understand that.

LH: Because were stupid?

PP: We're stupid.

LH: I can't even make pizza!

PP: We don’t have any other skills.

LH: None at all!

PP: And that’s the odd conundrum. You get to a point where you think, “This isn’t going to happen. This isn’t sustainable. I'm too exhausted, and it can't be good for me.” There were moments where I truly did try to formulate an idea of what I'd do. I thought I'd go back to school, start pre-med again and go to medical school or something like that.

LH: But that didn't happen, you just thought about it?

PP: Yes, I'd have thoughts, but it was still fantasy really. But at the time it felt like a practical life plan. Do you know what I mean?

LH: Yeah of course, you need to pay the fucking rent.

PP: Exactly. You just try to escape from the chaos of what you're feeling by trying to create order in your life. Order seems like a solution to save you from the pain of acting!

LH: It's a mental pain. Who was the first person you called when you got the role?

PP: My sister.

LH: Does she watch the show?

PP: Yes, she does.

LH: Pedro Pascal... or Pablo as I called you when I had too much wine, which was deeply insulting.

PP: Even family members have done that to me! Do I look more like a Pablo? Because it happens with about ninety-five percent of the people I meet.

LH: No, I think I’m just an ignorant drunk person.

PP: No, you were an ignorant drunk person that night is what you're saying.

LH: And now I’m educated.

PP: [Whispers] But | want you to call me Pablo.

LH: Ok, Pablo! When you first arrived on set in Northern Ireland, what was your feeling showing up to a bunch of British actors? Did it feel different to doing an American project?

PP: Yes, but I loved it. It wasn’t intimidating. I found it surreal because I’d watched and loved the show. I hadn't had the opportunity to work on something that I was really familiar with before, so it was overwhelming. But it was far more delightful than intimidating. Also you guys were really cool. Everyone was friendly.

LH: Oh, that’s just fake.

PP: Well, you guys were good at it!

LH: We know Game of Thrones is very popular obviously. Do you have any thoughts, or fears, about what this is going to bring you in terms of exposure?

PP: I have hope.

LH: Oh, God. I don’t mean to shatter that, but give it up.

PP: I don’t know really. It’s all been filmed, and now I'm back to my normal routine, so I haven't really thought about it. I remember when we finished filming and we were on our way to the airport, you asked me, “How does it feel you're all done?” and I couldn't really answer.

LH: You were quite emotional that day.

PP: I was very emotional because I’d had such an amazing time doing the part. Also just being there immersed in the experience... You described it to me best. You told me how I'd be feeling.

LH: We don't know your character's backstory when you enter the show, and you have some rather brutal scenes. Anyone who has read the books will know what I’m talking about.

PP: My character comes in, he stirs a bunch of shit up, and then he makes this fucking enormous exit. Now can | ask you a question?

LH: What is it? I’m not going to sleep with you. Give it up.

PP: Oh, come on! This has gone to shit and it’s your fault, so good luck to whoever has to edit it! But anyway, sometimes I'd hang out with the cast members and we'd go to dinner and they would get stopped constantly. There was no denying who they played because they were so recognisable, but you got away with it because you have this beautiful blonde wig on in the show, and in real life you are...

LH: Grey?

PP: {Laughs] No! You have beautiful chestnut hair! Is it liberating to not be recognised the way some of the other cast members are?

LH: Yes, it is liberating.

PP: Liberating being able to walk down an alley in Dubrovnik without being stopped?

LH: Yes, except sometimes | get recognised in the weirdest places. A woman was emptying my bag at Heathrow Airport's security gates and just went, “Are you the Queen?” while rummaging through my underwear. It was so fucking weird.

PP: It seems they're more respectful to you?

LH: Because they're frightened. Wait until they meet the Viper.

PP: Well, that covers it.

LH: I think we're going to get our own show out of this, you know

Interested in learning more about Pedro? Check out Pedro Pascal Unofficial on Pinterest!

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[littlefreya]

The Captain and the Maiden

Summary: Plain and simple, the Captain is your first.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: Deflowering, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, cunnilingus. 

A/N: By request from Anon! Thank you @agniavateira for being my beta and muse :3

Title: The Captain and the Maiden

There you are, decorated in white lace, your heart pumping with agitation while the captain stands in front of you, his broad, hairy chest pumping air slowly. He tilts his head like a big, ragged dog. 

“You’re a wha....”

“Virgin.” you answer, rolling your eyes nervously and a little bit vexed. You shouldn’t have said anything, you can already see the rushed exchange of thoughts behind his soulful blue eyes. 

The bulky man is certainly planning his escape, too afraid to take away your “chastity”.

But the right corner of his lips eventually twists into what begins to look like a small smirk, his eyes hungrily observing your body while he flicks his tongue. 

“How in the hell does someone like you remain a virgin for so long?”

You shrug, your mind quickly running through a list of failed conquests and the numerous times your heart got broken. “Didn’t find the right guy? Didn’t have time between college and maintaining a job to pay out my student loans? You pick.”

You sigh, ready to feel disappointment when your devoted soldier moves toward you and within seconds the air becomes shallow. His eyes glint darkly and you glimpse at his nether region, noticing the outlines of his engorged organ as it begs to for you.

“This makes me Mr. Right Guy?” he inquires with his pure Texan accent that melts your insides. Taking another step forward, he stands so close that the cups of your bra brush against his hard, naked torso with every breath you take. He leans his head down, forehead bumping against yours while he breathes in your scent.

“It makes you…”

The rest of your sentence is swallowed by his mouth as he pulls you up and conquers you with a succulent kiss. You’re not given a chance to resist, to fight back. The captain overpowers you, his tongue setting fire through your mouth and lungs, dancing with yours in a fight for dominance in which he wins with ease. 

Large hands seize your waist, lifting you with ease and placing you on the queen-sized bed. He crawls on top of you with menace. Sy is all muscle and fury, smothering you with his weight. His flesh is hot against yours and you’re almost embarrassed by your aching instinct to cling to this burly beast. His hands grope your body with zeal, and the only thing that runs through your mind is the same pathetic little prayer that you chant with wanton.

“I ain’t no tender man, babygirl.” he warns you as he breaks from your lips, his rough beard burning your skin as he trails down your jawline and then your throat. “But what I am is a southern gentleman and I promise I’ll treat ya right.” 

As if possessed, your spine curls and lifts from the mattress to the lingering kisses Syverson trails down your naked skin. He licks at your sternum, his coarse hands skillfully unclasping your bra and discards it before his tongue snakes around your peaked nipple and teases the soft flesh. You want to tell him you don’t need any preparation, that you’ve been waiting for this moment for way too long and you just want him to fuck you already.

But no words manage to form on your lips as Sy’s fingers thread through your nipples and he continues to explore the uncharted path of your body attentively.

“Has anyone done this to you before?” he murmurs against your lower belly between a chant of wet kisses, rubbing his bearded chin at your sensitive flesh and sneaking his fingers beneath the bend of your expensive lace underwear.

“Onc...once. when I was in college,” you stammer, hissing through your teeth. Your body shakes as he kisses your belly with a hum and slips your panties over your sheer thigh-high stockings.

“I appreciate this, by the way.” he exclaims, referring to the sexy lingerie you bothered to wrap yourself in for tonight: a Victoria’s Secret best white lace, almost ceremonial. It lasted less than 5 minutes before both your bra and underwear ended up on the floor next to Sy’s worn black shirt.  

Heat spreads through your body, spilling from your cheeks to your neck and gathering at your loins as Syverson spreads your legs with as much gentleness a brute like him can muster. You watch as he hooks your legs above his shoulders with intent, your thighs still covered in sheer white silk, countering the tanned muscles of his shoulders. 

You suck in your lower lip as you watch his head lowering between your apex. The fact that your thighs jitter around his neck is not lost to you. Flushed and ashamed of how intense your yearnings are, you throw your head back and shut your eyes while his hot breath welcomes your womanhood.

“Oh god!” 

His wet tongue snakes between your folds, smearing you with languid tease, enough to run through the length of your folds and make you whine like a whore. Your fingers twist around the bedsheet, your toes curling in the air as your ankles hover over his back.

“Christ, babygirl, I haven’t even started yet.” he taunts you and dips his tongue into your sweetness again, traveling between your folds carefully, tracing the shape of your labia and dampening it with his saliva. His thick beard adds roughness to the mixture, scratching your inner thighs as he moves his face between your open legs, learning the mysteries of your body.

Skillful lips press gentle loving kisses to the freshness of your mound, circling the entire region patiently, your whimpering pleas encouraging him to dwell around your juices and collect every rich drop. You’re swollen and throbbing, moaning with frustration at Syverson’s torturous measures. 

You can’t see his face, yet you’re convinced he is smiling smugly just as you know the sky above is blue.  

His fingers hold your lips open and you gasp as he licks your seal carefully, attempting to dip his tongue in the small gap as much as possible before he laps his tongue over the hidden pearl of your mound. He twirls around your clit with a low hum of delight that vibrates against you, making you shudder with a hiss. You are teetering on the edge, throwing your head back and forth on the pillow as he suckles, lavishing you inside the cavern of his mouth. The pleasure is so much that you are edged on begging him to stop yet the only thing coming from your mouth are deep, loud cries. 

Syverson has every intent on turning you into a mewling puddle, restraining your inner thighs while you squirm and continues to suck your clit skillfully until your body arches and explodes into rapture in his mouth.

“Fuck!!!” you pant, landing your back on the mattress heavily. “I get it now.”

Sy chuckles dryly, wiping your juices off his beard “Get what?”

“Captain… “ you adjust your breath “Captain Cunnilingus, I finally get why they call you that.”

His laughter thunders through his chest as he moves to lie on top of you once again, his hands reaching down to unzip his cargos and he pushes them down his legs to join the messy pile on the floor.

The last thing that surprises you is that Syverson likes to go commando.

“I think I got you wet enough, babygirl.” he growls, kissing and nipping your neck, his hands squeezing your buttocks, and his erection pressing hard against your soft belly. You shiver just from the size of it, your cunt throbs once again with both fear and excitement.

His knuckles sooth your temple, his eyes meeting yours with an ocean of compassion that only you are able to witness. 

“Ready?” he queries, searching for approval in your gaze.

You nod right away. You’ve been ready since the moment “big Sy” defended your honor at the bar against that jerk who squeezed your ass. No one ever fought for you, not till that day. You were just a small town girl with a sad list of terrible life choices and failed dates yet there he was. Handsome, big, and way beyond average, willing to risk a fight for you. 

You were tempted to just lose your virginity to him in the pub’s toilet. But he settled for your number instead.  

Holding you carefully in his strong bulging arms, Syverson flips you over so he is seated with you straddling his lap. You feel sinful, your wetness drenched upon the meat of his groin, you can’t help but stare at his velvet pistol which rests proudly against the side of your thigh. 

While inexperienced, you have seen your share online, and it would be an understatement to say Syverson is large.

“Easy darlin.’” he teases you with slight humor in his baritone and reaches to grab his thick erection in one hand while the other takes hold of your hip to assist you on top of him. Your fingernails mark crescents on his shoulder with just the tip of his flesh pressing at your gates. As desperate as you are, you feel a needle in your heart and your skin prickles as he begins to lower you onto his cock.

“F-u-c-k!” you hiss as you feel him splitting through you inch by inch. He pushes through your virginal canal, unwrapping your silken walls with his incredible girth. The pressure inside your own body overwhelms you, the sting of his entry making you dig your nails onto the hard muscles of his shoulder blades. A deep growl matches your sobs as he lingers, easing into a slit which is impossibly taut. 

But you’re are unwilling to be that girl anymore, the sweet small town virgin too afraid to ever make a move, pathetically waiting for “the one”. Whether it is Sy or not, you force yourself down his shaft, gasping along with him as the two of you fall into daze, amazed by the tight friction your bodies produce. His entire cock fills you, and you nearly break apart feeling him deep in the pit of your gut.

A low grunt emits from his lips. His hand soothes down your spine as you still, adjusting to the new sensation of being whole. You haven’t even noticed that your eyes went shut until Sy’s fingers stroke your cheek and wipe the wetness that formed in the corners of your eyes. 

Blinking your gaze at him, you find a calm sea, reaching into the depth of your heart.

“Good girl,” he utters, stroking your hair back and leaning to kiss your forehead. As patient as Syverson is, you can feel his thick cock as it twitches inside you. You are too hot, too tight, and your lush walls are closing around him. The  throbbing is unbearable for the both of you, increasing the more you prolong. 

Your breath comes in fumes and loud yips as you begin to ride the large man. You pull yourself up along the length of his solid erection, his ridges stroking down your stretching walls before you fall back on his cock, fulfilling the sudden emptiness that’s devoid of your pull.   

As dominant as he is, Syverson allows you to control the rhythm to a point. His control is a thin thread, threatening to snap. His large hands tattoo bruises onto your flesh as he grips you tightly and his teeth nip your breasts as you throw your head back with every plunge made into your body. You had your fears; that it will hurt too much, that you won’t climax with him inside you, having never experienced anything like this before. Yet every thought washes away from your mind as you rise and fall onto him and pleasure ripples through your organs as you grind into one another.

Seeing your movements become more fluid, Sy begins to buck his hips into you, pushing back into your cunt, reaching that spot so deep inside it makes you yelp like a crazed animal. He makes your entire body electrified, the bone of his pelvis grinding at your clit and his hands reach to squeeze your ass, parting your cheeks to make you even more stretched for him.

You are almost unable to rationalize how and when the captain took over, pushing you down on his meaty shaft. You realize that you enjoy this, having him take over, grunting against your throat while forcing you down his cock. It’s as if he turned into a beast whose only purpose was to seek and fill your womb. 

“Harder!” you hear a yell and before you even realize it was you who gave the command, you are whirled back onto the mattress with Sy on top, thrusting into you with the dedication of an ardent soldier. He kisses you sloppily, holding his elbows at the side of your head so not to crush you with his weight while he thrusts into you with lewd grunts.  

Tides of ecstasy begin to hit your core, washing closer and closer to the shores of your pleasure. You reach your hands to grab his ass, nails biting into his muscles, forcing him so deep it hurts. That pain is all you need to sink into your own waves of pure orgasm. You come as you never did before, wrapping tightly around him, achieving a sense of becoming whole in every inch of your soul.

Sy growls into your ear, and an onslaught of curses greets your flushed ears as he jackhammers your convulsing cunt so vigorously the bones of your hips feel as if they’re going to fall apart. Unable to fight your body’s protests, his own orgasm takes him within a split second, his seed sprouting into your womb while he pants hoarsely on top of you. 

Sweaty and breathless, he teases your lips into a loving kiss while remaining sheathed inside you. A gentle hum tickles down your throat, the heat of his elixir soothes you while his weight presses you down. Even though he is making it harder for you to breathe, you are anxious of his departure from your body. You lay your head against his peck, your hands clutching his back gently.

“Oh babygirl,” he cradles the back of your head, pressing a tender kiss to your hair. “Did I hurt you?”

You smile against his chest, feeling a bit more wicked than you ever did before. 

“Not in a bad way.”

___________________________________________________

DM me if you wish to be added/removed

[hyuniebaby]

Lip Ring

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N

Rating: m (mature)

AU: fratboy!Baekhyun

Warning: overstimulation, uh cursing??

A/N: As I’ve said, I think about Kokobop era Baekhyun at least once a week so here’s a fic dedicated to him. Someone please bring him back. 😫 I got so flustered writing this, watch me hide after I post it. 😂 I kinda wanna write a part 2 because Y/N owes Jongin but it’ll depend on the readers’ feedback and my mood of course... I hope you all enjoy this!

I’m reposting this because the tags weren’t showing up

It was always so loud in the hallways. Whenever classes ended, a swarm of students murmuring were always heard. You got used to it pretty quickly though. You could easily block whatever nonsense the other students were talking about. Who would want to constantly hear them complain about their annoying professor or the homeworks that piled up on them?

This time though, the murmurs were different, you note, as you put your books inside your locker. Instead of the usual rants and complaints that the other students say, today it sounded like they were gossiping and gushing at the same time.

You understood why the sounds the students were making were different as you turned around. Right behind you was one of the most famous students in the campus. Heartthrob, heartbreaker, fuckboy, frat boy, trouble — he had so many titles, it was hard to keep track. Byun Baekhyun.

Quite frankly, you had titles too, but you couldn’t be bothered to know them. As far as you know, they called you the female counterpart of Baekhyun, which isn’t necessarily a lie. The only thing different from you and Baekhyun was that he was in a fraternity and you weren’t in a sorority.

Sure, you’ve been sleeping around, just not as often as Baekhyun. However, recently you’ve been doing it less. Since you’ve hooked up with Kim Jongin, you kinda found yourself on the sheets with him more than you would like to admit. But you two weren’t exclusive, just regular fuck buddies.

You’ve had boys lining up on you the same way he had girls lining up for him, but of course you weren’t the type to settle, no matter how good of a guy they were. Even if he’s the Kim Jongin. You’re too young to be tied down. Apparently you shared the same mindset as Byun Baekhyun.

You raise your brow at the sight of Baekhyun, wondering why on Earth was he standing before you. You didn’t have to look at the other students around you to know what they were talking about. Of course, it was only a matter of time that the most famous female student crossed paths with him.

Although you have quite a reputation, everybody knows not to flirt with you inside the campus. If they wanted you in bed with them, they had to catch you in bars, clubs, or parties. And they had to impress you. You downright rejected everyone who dares talk to you on campus. So it surprised everyone when Baekhyun came to talk to you in school.

You had to admit, you admired his guts. It’s been a while since a male had the guts to talk to you in the hallways, unfortunately for that guy though, you didn’t even spare him a glance. But who were you to deny yourself of looking at Baekhyun in all his glory? He was, after all, wearing his iconic lip ring.

Your eyes wander from the red streaks on his hair to his mullet, then to his lip ring. From there you gazed at his neck that was adorned with a cross necklace and then his broad shoulders. He was wearing a thin see through black t-shirt, and if you looked close enough, you would be able to see the outline of his abs. He looked absolutely delectable even if it seems like he wasn’t even trying.

When you look back at his face, you see he has his signature smirk on. He was fully aware that you were checking him out. He’s cocky, you thought, but with that face and that body, you could understand why. Just like any other girl, the sight of his smirk made your legs weak.

It’s been so long since you’ve met a guy who had so much sex appeal even when they weren’t doing anything remotely sexual. And this was one way to describe Byun Baekhyun. Oh god, you were such a sucker for frat boys and bad boys. He’s definitely someone that piqued your interest and that only means one thing — you wanted him.

You had to keep your act on though, if you gave Baekhyun the time of the day, other boys might take it as a sign that they can approach you too. So after you took a good look on him, you turned and walked away, even if you were dying to know why he was there.

You hear a collective Oohh’s and laughter behind you, most probably from his friends who you saw were lurking at the end of the hallway, watching the interaction.

You walk to your next class with your books in your hand, still wondering about what Baekhyun wanted to talk to you about.

As you sit down at your usual place, your friend Lisa immediately leans to your side. “So I’ve heard about what happened.”

“What the fuck?” Gossips spread so fast. How was that even possible? It didn’t even take you ten minutes to reach your room and whatever transpired in the hallway had already circulated.

Lisa rolls her eyes at you. “Don’t look so shocked. You know how many people are fawning over Baekhyun. Plus, you’re quite popular yourself, may I remind you.”

You groan. “Yeah, right. Whatever.”

“Anyway, rumors say that he was supposed to invite you to their frat party this weekend.” She raises her eyebrows up and down.

You perk up at the word “party” and immediately plastered a grin. “Let’s go then!”

Lisa laughs at your enthusiasm. She knew you loved parties. “Maybe you should’ve listened to him talk. At least then you wouldn’t have looked like a curious cat.”

“Maybe he should’ve just said ‘Party at Alpha Phi Alpha this weekend’ instead of just standing behind me or letting me ogle at him,” you shot back.

She snickers at your response. “Knowing you, you wouldn’t have faced him at all if he blurted that out. You’d probably respond with a noncommittal hum or something.”

“I guess you’re right.” You grin at her.

She shakes her head while laughing, “Of course I am.”

That was how you ended up facing your vanity mirror on a Saturday night. You were wearing a lace burgundy bralette and high waisted denim shorts. Initially you wanted to wear only those articles of clothing, however, you opted to wear a white silk shirt on top of it and tucked it in without buttoning it. You made sure the shirt shows your lace bralette. You could always take the shirt off if it got too hot anyway. You applied a bright red lipstick on your lips to finish off your look.

Just as you put your lipstick on the bag, Lisa calls you to inform you that she’s in front of your apartment with her boyfriend Bambam. You quickly went on your way to Bambam’s car and greeted them.

Lisa whistles upon seeing you, “Damn, you’re going to make the boys crazy.”

You roll your eyes at her. You’re hoping to make at least one guy crazy, and it’s Byun Baekhyun.

When you reach the frat house, you trail behind the couple. You stop a couple of times to greet the few friends you got to meet over the years you’ve been attending this kind of parties.

You finally reached Lisa in the kitchen drinking a bottle of beer. “Here’s Ms. Popular’s drink,” she teases you as she hands over one bottle to you.

You grab the bottle gratefully. “There’s Baekhyun,” Lisa whispers as you take a long gulp at your beer. You follow her line of sight to find him mingling with people. He hasn’t seen you yet which was good because you didn’t have enough alcohol in your system yet.

He was wearing a yellow linen and silk blend ethnic print blazer with a belt. His chest was fully exposed thanks to the absence of an undershirt. As always, Byun Baekhyun was dressed to impress.

And god, oh god, that mullet and the red streaks. It was a sight to behold. Somehow the hairstyle fit him perfectly. The look makes him hotter than your average guy. The sight of him was enough to make any woman swoon over him. You quickly turn away after taking a good look at his appearance.

Lisa then spots her classmates in one of the classes you didn’t share together. She excitedly drags you over to meet them. She introduces you to the group and they welcome you openly. You were quick to finish your beer after conversing with Lisa’s friends, so you excused yourself to grab another drink.

You poured yourself another drink and walked back to your friends, but not before stealing another glance at the place you last saw Baekhyun. His eyes now met yours. After a few minutes of staring, his eyes travel to your body. You see him lick his lips at the sight of your attire. This alone made you feel things. You were glad to have gotten a reaction from him.

It was when he looked away that you noticed that a girl was actually beside him, openly flirting with him. He flirts back with a knowing smile.

You raise your brow at the sight, a small smile on your face. Oh, so this was Baekhyun’s plan, you thought.

Normally, you wouldn’t entertain the challenge. Why bother going through such trouble? It was easier to find another guy anyway. But if Baekhyun wants to play, then who are you to walk away?

Instead of walking towards your friends, you went in a different direction. The person you were looking for was easy to spot. You walk across the room towards him, feeling a pair of eyes follow your movement.

Kim Jongin smirks as he finds you walking to his direction. He quickly excuses himself from his group of friends and walks over to you. You watch him as he eyes your outfit.

You place your hands at his chest and lean to his ear, “Wanna dance?”

He grabs your hand and leads you to where most people were dancing. You glance at Baekhyun to see his reaction to the interaction. His jaw was clenched, posture tense. Exactly the reaction you wanted.

When Baekhyun saw you walking towards Jongin, his eyes twitched. Of course he knew your and Jongin’s set-up, everyone does. That’s why there weren’t as many men approaching you as before. But not everyone knew the two of you weren’t exclusive.

He watches as Jongin moves towards your form and slides his hand on your waist naturally. He sees you place your hand on Jongin’s chest and whisper something to his ear.

Not tonight, Jongin. You’re not gonna have Y/N tonight, Baekhyun thinks.

Baekhyun tears his gaze off of you. He faces the girl clinging to her. The girl instantly melts at his gaze. “Do you want to dance, baby?” He says huskily.

“Yes,” she says breathily.

He wants to pity the girl for falling into his charms so easily when she was just a pawn to get to you, but he doesn’t feel any remorse. He’s far too used at doing things like this.

He angles their bodies so that he was directly in your line of vision. The girl quickly loses herself into the music and he finds himself doing the same.

You paid no attention whatsoever to Baekhyun at first, despite seeing him at your periphery. You were swaying your hips and raising your hands over your head, occasionally touching Jongin on his chest. At one point, you turn your back to Jongin, he immediately places his hands on your hips. This was the moment your eyes traveled to Baekhyun. You smirk as you noticed his eyes were on you already. You maintain eye contact as you grinded on Jongin.

But Jongin isn’t clueless, he knows what you’re doing. He knows you were giving Baekhyun a show. He moves your hair and whispers to your ear, “I know what you’re doing, darling.”

You tilt your head, “Just go with it.”

“You’re a naughty girl.”

You face Jongin again and place your hands on his shoulders.

Jongin leans awfully close, “What’s in it for me?”

You don’t pull away, “I’ll owe you one.”

“And if this doesn’t work on him?”

“We can always have fun together.”

He smirks, “Tempting. I’m kinda hoping it doesn’t work out for you.”

You roll your eyes at him and continue to dance with him.

You were enjoying the touches of Jongin way too much for Baekhyun’s liking. Quite frankly, you were in Jongin’s bubble and you almost forgot you were doing this to get Baekhyun’s attention.

Until Baekhyun walks towards your direction fuming. Jongin removes his hands on you immediately but not before he whispers, “You owe me.” Then he backs up slowly.

You turn around exactly as Baekhyun stops in front of you. You feign innocence and say, “Hi, Baekhyun.”

But he greets you with a passionate kiss instead. It took you a few seconds to comprehend what was happening, too stunned by the sudden action. But once you realized what was happening, you immediately responded to his lips.

Everything happened so fast after that. One minute you were kissing Baekhyun in the living room of their frat house, the next he was dragging you into his room. Was it always like this with Baekhyun?

In no time you’re in his room. He pinned you to the wall as soon as you both entered. His lips immediately latched on to yours. You smile into the kiss, knowing that you succeeded in your plan.

Now that you were alone together, away from the watching eyes of the other students, you allow yourself to enjoy the kiss. The kiss was nothing soft, of course, it isn’t, it was fueled by lust and jealousy after all. If anything, it was needy and rough. Just the way you wanted.

You were so into the kiss that you didn’t notice it at first. The lip ring. His lip ring. You were only able to tell once you pulled away to catch your breath and took a good look at his face up close. So that’s why it felt different, the lip ring was the reason.

He sees you watch his lip when you pull away. He allows you to look at it until he bites his lips and you break out of your trance. You gulp before kissing him again. The kiss became much, much rougher than before.

Your hands found purchase in his hair. You hear him moan silently as you tugged his surprisingly soft locks. The sound instantly makes you wet down there.

His hands travel all over your body as his breaths grow heavier. You, on the other hand, take this opportunity to latch your lips on his neck. Your right hand travels from his chest to his abs and then to his hardening bulge. You palm him over his jeans as you suck on his neck. You made sure you left your mark so he can have a reminder that this night happened. He groans at the sensation you were giving him. You were so, so good at what you’re doing.

As you give him more love bites, you start unbuckling his belt, and then you pull off his blazer. You were quick to unzip his pants and pull out his shaft, pumping him as you gave one last suck on his neck.

When you were done assaulting his neck and his chest, you let your eyes feast on his naked body. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“It’s not gonna suck itself, baby.” He tsks as he places a hand over yours that’s pumping his shaft.

You immediately kneel in front of him. You look up at him as you give him kitten licks at first. “Stop teasing. You’ve already done enough of that a while ago.” He growls.

You grab his cock tighter and start taking him in your mouth. You watched as he rolled his head back and his face contorted with pleasure. You bobbed your head up and down his shaft. You swirl your tongue on his tip and taste the precum leaking on it. He moans loudly at that.

You hollow your cheeks after taking him in again. Your left hand travels to his balls and you gently massage it as you continue to suck him. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” He moans.

His moans grew louder and louder as you kept repeating your actions. His sounds were so sinful, it made you so wet and he hasn’t even properly touched you yet. You allow him to thrust into your mouth. “You take my cock so well.” He praises you breathily.

But when you feel him twitching, you pull away. This angers Baekhyun. He was so close.

He smashes his lips to yours, kissing you with fervor. He roughly removes your satin shirt and throws it carelessly on the floor. For a moment he debates on whether or not to remove your lace bralette, the sight of it did drive him crazy the first time he saw you today, after all. Fuck it, he thinks. He wants to see you naked and to suck on your tits so badly. He pulls your bralette over your head and within seconds, he attaches his lips onto your mounds. You arch your back as he does this, your body reacting to his touch.

He sucks on your right nipple as his left hand squeezes your other boob. His hands were alternately tugging and squeezing your nipples. He gives your mounds equal attention and has you squirming on his touch.

You whimper as he slides his hand inside your shorts. He was rubbing you right where you wanted him. “You’re so fucking wet. Did you have fun making me watch you and Jongin on the dance floor?” You hear an edge on his tone. Fuck, that was so sexy.

He presses his finger on your clit, “Answer me.”

“Y-yes.”

He quickly gets you off of your shorts and panties. He slides a finger in you and you gasp at the sudden intrusion. “You’re so naughty, kitten. You let me watch you grind on another man and then you stop blowing me just as I was about to cum,” he says, voice dripping with lust. He pumps his finger in and out of your core. He has you moaning then.

He adds a second finger and says, “You’re gonna be a good girl and take what I give, right kitten?”

“Hmm. Yes.” You moan.

“Good,” and just then he adds another finger and starts to thrust into your core at a quick pace. You’re overwhelmed with the sensation and you could feel your legs almost giving up. He holds you upright as he pushes his fingers knuckle deep into your core. You feel a familiar knot forming and your moans grow more sinful at that. “Moan my name,” he demands.

“Baekhyun!” You moan loudly as you reach your climax.

“We’re not done yet, kitten,” Baekhyun says as he carries you to his bed. “You look so pretty like this, under me with that fucked out look.”

He kisses you again, letting you recover first. You kiss him back with passion. His lips travel to your jawline and then to your neck. You didn’t peg him as the type to leave hickeys so when he starts biting and sucking on your skin, you whimper. You loved being covered with love marks. He must’ve known this too because as he finished branding you with one, he moves on to another part and does it again, and again.

“Baekhyun…” You say breathily as you grab his erection.

His breath hitches. You pump him excruciatingly slow. “Baekhyun… I need you in me.”

He reaches for a packet of condom, rips the foil and puts it on.

“Beg for it,” he says huskily.

Oh, if he only knew how stubborn you are. You kissed him then, and he was caught off guard. You used this opportunity to flip your positions so you were on top.

He leans back on his elbows, eyes twinkling as he anticipates what you’re going to do next. But your eyes weren’t on his face, it was on his abs, which became more prominent in this position.

He was driving you crazy. You grinded your core into his erection slowly. He shuts his eyes. You lift your hips up and line his cock into your opening. He releases another sinful moan as you sunk into him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

When you’ve adjusted to his size, you start moving your hips up and down. He opens his eyes to watch you as you pleasure yourselves. In the beginning, he lets you move on your own, but as your pace grows faster, his hips start thrusting too. You felt so good, he wanted to close his eyes and lose into the feeling but he couldn't. Not when your tits were bouncing like that. Not when you looked that hot riding him. “You’re so sexy, kitten,” he proclaims with gritted teeth.

When Baekhyun feels you clenching on him, it drives him crazy. He pulled out and positioned your ass up and face down on the bed. He holds your hips tightly as he slams himself into you. His pace was fast and brutal. The headboard slams loudly on the walls as he thrusts into you. This position allows him to reach different parts inside you.

“Baekhyun… Faster,” you plead as you gripped on the sheets.

He didn’t have to be told twice. He starts moving his hips faster and rougher than before. “I-I’m cumming!” You exclaim.

You feel yourself climax but Baekhyun doesn’t stop, he continues to slam his hips against you. You whimper from being overstimulated. Tears start gathering in your eyes as the sensation becomes too overwhelming. He starts rubbing your clit and it sends another wave of pleasure to you. Your walls were clenching on him so tightly, his pace started stuttering. He couldn’t stop chanting profanities alongside your name as he feels himself getting closer to his climax.

You feel him release his seed into the condom just as you came again. He immediately pulls out and gets rid of the condom. He lays on the bed momentarily to catch his breath. You were both panting so hard after the activity.

There was only silence besides the sound of your breathing. Baekhyun suddenly stands up and picks up his clothes. He goes to his bathroom. When he came back, he was only half naked. He has his jogging pants on already. His right hand holds a wet towel that he uses to clean you up. “Thank you Baekhyun,” you croak, voice a little hoarse from the loud moaning you did earlier.

He smirks, “you were amazing, kitten.” Then he pecks your lips. He slides back into his bed and pulls you towards him. “Now go get some rest.”

[sugar-petals]

Your First Date With Baekhyun

:: bbh x sm apprentice!reader

words. 10k

warnings ⚠️ idol au hc, pining, brief angst, eventual car sex 👀, tw light injuries bc baek is clumsy in love, oral fixation, finger sucking, rough sex, making out

↳ NOTE. here we go again with the slow burn ✊🔥

It all starts with a divine act of clumsiness. 

An accident, completely out of the blue.

Who is surprised, what else could it be.

Ever since Baekhyun violently bumped into you from behind in the SM cafeteria to avoid Mark spilling red hot Americano on him… life has never been the same. 

That you walked in on him walking around mighty topless, with you wanting to clear the dance practice room many hours after work three times already does not help.

It’s always the same chain of events. He practices for longer than the others and gets sweaty, pulls off his shirt, pauses the music for a five-minute break. That’s unintentionally making it seem like everyone is already gone and the room is empty — you are deceived by it every time, and he almost gets a heart attack himself. We know how easily embarrassed Baekhyun is with showing skin by accident, outside of any shower stalls that is, let alone being caught stripping by himself. 

The first time he screams and you scream, off you run after quickly shutting the door. He tries his best to cover himself up with his hands, but to no avail. Lucas, Kai, and Johnny are no longer the only Magic Mikes under this rowdy fucking roof anymore. Even if you turned around fast, you saw more than a whole lot. 

You know how scared Baekhyun is by surprises, he gets all fidgety. Even after four whole minutes, he still sits with the music off breathing harder than he did from powering through four jointbreaking ligament-snappers I mean EXO choreographies. 

Lot of thoughts on his mind, lot of blood pumping through him. Baekhyun can hear a pretty hefty heartbeat pound in his ears. Eventually, he shakes his head at himself and does switch the music back on. But even that doesn’t distract him, nor can he concentrate on the moves. He keeps on asking himself — what the hell is wrong, what is this, why does he act like that? 

So, he ends up sneaking out of the room to call it a day. You were waiting in the nearby corridor to do the cleaning after he left. But now, you hide behind a shelf with props and miscellanea to avoid him. 

Of course, Baekhyun comes to grab a water bottle from said cupboard. Well, oh shit. He has his shorts on, and his calves are literally 20 inches away from you. He doesn’t see you crouching down there, but your pulse is going through the roof now, too. 

In fact, not even the days when Taeyong is walking around the company in a sexy as hell crop top could cause you such a panic. And that is the highest possible bar already. The average apprentice almost faints.

There’s pungent sweat that can knock you out of your socks… and then there’s sexy sweat scent mixed with men’s deodorant. Baekhyun leaves the latter after rushing out of the corridor. It’s even more intense in the practice room, if not absolutely unbearable. Oh boy. Pheromones, please no.

It’s almost as if you’re taking a bath in cologne. You’re getting nauseous and tingly from how it gets to you. You can hardly focus on scrubbing the mirror. If only the guy knew what horniness he is causing just by infusing the air, what the fucking fuck.

The second time, he jerks up again, but tries to explain himself. But so do you, ending up with a mutual, stuttering word spill in sync. 

Neither of you understood what the other was saying because you were too busy with a knee-jerk dialogue. Anxious all over, you quickly leave and eventually end up hiding behind the cupboard again. The new comeback track blasts even louder in the practice room. 

The third occasion, you no longer flinch at each other and laugh a little, mighty embarrassed still, but apologize with knowing eyes. This time, you enter the room after a small „Can I?“ and at least manage to clear some noodle boxes and unused towels from the backup dancers away, and pin a new schedule to the door. 

Baekhyun quickly pulls over his plain white tee and keeps on mumbling sorry, sorry like he’s Super Junior, practically scraping the ground with his hair because he bows so deep. 

You’ve never seen him this awkward. Instead of his usual one-liners and most effortless conversation starters, he resorts to switching on the music again after frantically looking everywhere but in your direction. He sings his lines right along, getting back into the routine’s intricate steps. 

Strange. 

Very strange.

All day, he is impulsive with lightening up just about any situation. One sentence, hook line and sinker; the mood alleviates. Not this time. He’s ignoring you now that you’re in the room.

The truth is: Baekhyun can’t help but set his pupper eyes on you in all other occasions already, especially when you’re busy at a distance. And it’s making him crazy. Next day at the cafeteria, he deliberately arrives late so he can queue way, way behind you. 

For the first time in all glorious epochs K-Pop history, he would let Sehun enter the line before him so he would have a shield. „Maknaes first“ is his brief comment, and Sehun thinks that Baekhyun must squarely confuse today with his birthday.

And fate says… sike. Two minutes later, a teary Mark rushes toward you and loudly apologizes for the Americano disaster. „Baekhyun was not being impolite, it was me!“

As he says just that, he turns, points right at Baekhyun’s tomato red head peeking out from behind Sehun’s shoulders, and bows to him. 

The whole cafeteria is witness, including Lee Soo Man.

And SHINee, who will have gossip material for five weeks because of this. Key is already taking notes. 

And BoA — who’s giggling because she’s seen it all in the business and knows exactly what’s going on with Baekhyun and you. Oh. Lord.

Baekhyun wants to sink into the ground right then and there. He’s been found out again. Of course he has to step out from his lair now and bow back to Mark, take the blame and explain the whole incident all over, and comfort him with a string of appeasing words. Which he hates for four reasons at the same time. He embarrassed Mark, himself, disturbed you the way he bumped into your back, and now you saw him hiding from… precisely you. Little does he know you did, too. 

Baekhyun quickly retreats to sit next to Sehun once again after Mark has calmed down and he, being the senior as always, has performed another 180° bow to you in front of the entire staff and idol audience, causing his oversized shirt to slip downward, way to his armpits. 

Goodness gracious.

BoA is this close to shouting „get a room“ upon seeing Baekhyun stand in front of you with his stomach all bare until he has hastily tucked his shirt back into this place. Fast as it happens, you can’t hide your reaction face. 

Chanyeol, sitting at a nearby table, does a telling reaction noise himself, and you can tell he’s read the situation to a T. Even worse, he’s whistling. You can fool a lot of people, but not Park „Radar“ Chanyeol. He’s a himbo incarnate, but this guy’s emotional intelligence is too damn strong, and he knows Baekhyun inside out. Oh shit, man.

The next ten minutes are fraught with a weird, sonorous mumbling in the room. Lee Soo Man doesn’t really get it, thank God. But the meaning of Baekhyun silently cowering behind Sehun while eating his kimchi stew is more than obvious to half of the people around. Baekhyun never fucking acts like this, even when he’s sad.

It’s like something is pushing the two of you into humiliating situations like that ever since you started to work at SM since last May. Literally Baekhyun can’t stop apologizing to you all day because he’s suddenly clumsy or the strangest situations happen.

Nope, he doesn’t do it on purpose. But yes, he finds himself enjoying your attention. So what is he going to do? This keeps being stuck on his mind. Especially because half of EXO, NCT, and SuperM is asking him what the hell is going on in three raging group chats at once.

And you? I don’t have to tell you how it feels like when Baekhyun stumbles over to squarely plant his cutesy baby face into your back. Firmly wrapping his hands around your waist on top of that not to fall over entirely. That feeling is locked into your muscle memory. And now, seeing him stripped down for the fourth time already? Goodbye to your sleep.

Special thanks to a jittery Mark for making this first hug I mean collision out of nowhere happen. Just to be sure: Mark really didn’t spill his coffee on purpose, nor did Baekhyun want to bump into you this hard. And we know Mark’s reflexes are usually fast enough to save the day. But he was about to host his first variety show all by himself, so you can imagine how shaky and distracted he was. And nobody will resent him — this is only all about you and Baekhyun… being the most repressed motherfuckers.

Baekhyun constantly almost-crashing into you somewhere or basically crawling on the ground before you makes for a second very shaky guy. What the hell is pulling him towards you wherever he goes? It’s even worse than Minseok moving one inch and accidentally smacking Baekhyun in the face.

It just goes on and on.

Following the second cafeteria embarrassment, the next Friday after lunch, you run into each other at the ground floor elevator exit so you would drop your fries. Yeah, extra crispy ones, with the best mayonnaise. Baekyhun has been feeling so guilty about his curse at this point that he orders extra fries for you at the cafeteria two times a week with his card. Which makes Chanyeol know dear Eros struck particularly hard. Because if he didn’t care, Baekhyun would pay it five times a week like he does for NCT every now and then. But if he does it only two times, something is at stake. He doesn’t want it to be apparent.

Baekhyun can’t even look you in the eye when he puts them on your tray. Instead, he quickly bows three times in a row and then disappears. This guy is a small puddle of blush. 

Lee Soo Man cites him into his room to say what’s wrong soon, but all Baekhyun can blurt out is that he didn’t sleep well and the comeback song won’t get into his head. Which is not a direct lie, so.

Whatever you do, Baekhyun appears out of the blue and falls to your feet. Only two days later, he returns from shooting an MV and slips right in front of your office. Pretty much because his feet stumble over his own pants. You put the paperwork aside and check what the hell is going on outside. A dizzy Baekhyun straight-up hit his head at your door. He declines you helping him up because he knows that your touch is probably gonna make him fully insane. He walks around with a forehead patch during the comeback stage and people online think it’s the latest trend.

Somebody save this man.

The universe just keeps on arranging the silliest things to make shit happen, huh.

At this point, Baekhyun developing a full-blown apprentice crush is as obvious as Lucas being tall.

Now, the reality is. This man is Hitch, the Date Doctor. He notoriously handles crowds, can get along with anyone he’s put together with on camera, helps the other members to juggle their love life whenever they have a problem. Chen is probably a married man because of Baekhyun in one way or another. He isn’t really shy normally in his own words. But when it comes to his own crushes — classic case of everybody’s cupid who gives good advice they would need the most. 

That Baekhyun is helpless with anything that digs beneath the surface of his usual interactions will show to you very soon. There’s tough Baekhyun, there’s cute Baekhyun, and then there’s an utterly speechless little bean who has an internal meltdown when you do as much as take the stairs together. The difference is staggering. He’s fidgety, tense, makes himself even smaller and first and foremost: Is impressionable to an extreme.

In short: Baekhyun has fully converted into a fake maknae.

It’ll show in staff meeting conversations on trivial things about the schedule that he wing-mans everybody but himself when shit hits the fan. He stutters in your presence. Baek’s a mess. Chanyeol takes Baekhyun to the side and raises his brows at him at least five times a day, as in wanting to say: „Are you ever going to do something about it?“

Baekhyun dodges the answer each time and preoccupies himself with social media. Fans will later say that he hasn’t uploaded as many Twitter replies, Youtube videos, and Instagram snapshots in his whole career. And Baekhyun is already quite active online so you can tell how much he’s spamming.

Secretly… hoping you see his online activity. Which you do. 

You’ve memorized his five latest vlogs down to the cute little sound noises he’s making. Still, you hide behind the cupboard, and he is hiding behind an unsuspecting Johnny. Because Sehun is already grumbling about becoming a human shield, and Chanyeol would tease Baekhyun to the hell and back whenever you’re around.

Why does all of that happen? Why is he trying to escape? 

The answer is, Baekhyun feels an overpowering respect towards you. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, it’s something you exude. To the point where he isn’t able to clown you the way he does with others. It’s literally that bad.

On top of that, Baekhyun is frustrated that whatever extroversion he can switch on during broadcasts, fan meets, and with the other members is suddenly failing him. He tries hard to fall back to his usual humor, but you being around makes him act much more erratic. And, surprisingly reserved, believe it or not.

Eye contact will make him break whatever character he’s trying to tune into for the sake of keeping it together. The exact opposite will happen. All the blushing and boiling hot sweat gives him away. Your own heated af face he doesn’t even notice.

In his mind, he’s going through any possible way of mannerisms to get your attention all while not embarrassing himself. He gives confident SuperM leader Baekhyun a shot, comedian Baekhyun, too, and he will don a pokerfaced version of himself as a last option whenever you are close. 

All unsuccessfully. He can’t keep the façade for long; he knows he’s acting strange and inconsistent that way. Do you even realize what you merely sitting in the same practice room is doing to this guy?  

As you can tell…

It’s up to you to hit on him. Finding an unmistakable balance between being breathtakingly forward and overly subtle. The right way to ask him out is somewhere in between. The way you gauge it, Baekhyun is turned off by all kinds of brazen approaches, but doesn’t want to be nudged with satin gloves and feathers either.

However, you end up playing too lowkey at first try because you’re just as nervous. You think, maybe it’s good to find out how interested in me he will admit he is. Which, given how much he tries to conceal his feelings, turns out to be a difficult idea.

And — Isn’t is crystal clear he likes you a whole lot by the way he tries to retreat from everyone but you? Recently, fleeing to stand behind Lucas. Who has the most hiding surface and won’t question what Baekhyun is doing there all the time, unlike Johnny.

So, how do you learn that your plan is a bad idea? You try to involve yourself in NCT’s Friday night truth-or-dare where Baekhyun always joins to mess with everyone.

But that weekend, he interestingly excuses himself to „practice English, it’s urgent!“. Off he goes as soon as he sees that you are part of the lineup, looking like he’s seen a ghost. 

So, that mission failed. You get Taeyong, Haechan, and Yuta twerking against you at the same time while wearing sailor moon outfits as a dare instead. 

However: You still learned something from this. The way that even Haechan’s wild gyrating and arguably great ass did not have a single effect on you tells you that you really want someone else really damn bad. Hell, if Yuta Nakamoto winds against you and you feel nothing—

And, something else has become apparent to you.

Professional he is, Baekhyun establishes rapport even with people he dislikes or feels neutral about, but when his more vulnerable feelings are in the game, he runs from them. 

Beside Chanyeol and BoA, you’re smart enough to begin seeing what clockwork ticks inside of him. When Baekhyun doesn’t try to get close to someone that’s around him so frequently, something is mighty wrong and his opinion about that someone must be an intense one. And it’s not because he hates that person, the opposite is the case. 

He’s almost less afraid of you than his worries of ruining it. 

But through what, you’re wondering, seriously. 

On the other hand, you get why Baekhyun keeps a viable distance. He knows it’s difficult to be associated with him in the way he wishes you were. Since people were looking at him and you so strange in the cafeteria, he even stopped practicing in the after hours. 

Two weeks later, he even quits buying you fries for lunch and eats in the recording studio instead. Chanyeol remains correct: Much is at stake.

After the truth-or-dare fail, you sit down in sobriety and go through your options. You get all sorts of grand ideas to reveal your feelings, but dismiss the majority of it. You have to start small, really small. This needs the utmost care. Especially because you don’t want to compromise him by accident any further, nor are you anywhere near as ballsy as you believe someone hitting on Byun Baekhyun needs to be. 

Truth be told: BoA would kick your ass for thinking that. And letting so many opportunities pass, as if you aren’t beating yourself up for it enough. Idol mode Baekhyun, well, he would be hard to approach indeed. But what is currently going on… he’s literally showing you his underbelly. He’s begging you to do something.

That he avoids even the lightest touch: More than telling to BoA’s knowing eye. He would be so easy to sway with just one sentence. She knows that at this point, Baekhyun is desperate. His yes would come so fast. You’re far from having faith in this. But you still try. You want this man.

Eventually, you rack your brain for anything understated you could do. 

Then, you get the idea. 

After a schedule briefing, Baekhyun recently said he dearly wishes he could eat fried noodles in the early evening because he’s craving something savory, meanwhile flashing a split-second glance at you. Maybe… You can discreetly bridge the gap by getting him food.

You’re part responsible for doing things like that in the company already so nobody will question you driving around with your little motorbike. 

If you think about it: That’s a good excuse to approach him frequently and visit his apartment. The move is calculated, but it’s what the situation requires. You can’t tell how Baekhyun will react, but if he looked at you this way, it’s worth a shot.

And so, you dare the impossible. You show up with a deliberately small portion of noodles after the last comeback stage, knock twice. He does open. You’re frozen up.

Uttering a hopefully neutral „You said you wanted this. I’ll also bring it tomorrow if you want,“ and then drive off again without even waiting for a reply from a very surprised-looking Baekhyun in PJs. 

Sweating like crazy, thank God your helmet and the upcoming dark of the night was hiding your red cheeks. Shit man, that was robotic as fuck! is what you’re thinking for the entire ride home. Another fail, you sure won’t return tomorrow. Now you can’t look him in the eye, either.

Meanwhile: 

The meal not only saves the day of Baekhyun’s usually very lackluster diet mood that comes out when he is by himself. It also makes him flustered and grateful, curling up on his couch. He couldn’t even remotely try to say no out of politeness or concerns for his food plan. Baekhyun breaks the chopsticks right away after closing the door. Today, his dog’s with him. Mongryong excitedly jumps up and down next to Baekhyun. Your visit was short and sweet, but it made two beans very happy.

In fact, he rips open the box and shoves a quarter of the content into his mouth in the blink of an eye. It’s not just how hungry he is. He’s also overwhelmed that you came to his house. He feels like it’d be the highest level of disrespect to throw it away to begin with, no matter how spartan his eating habits are supposed to be. 

He almost views this little take-out box as a part of you. He imagines how you listened to him talk, decided to drop by, bought it with your own money, and carried it all the way to him. All that extra effort and attention he spins back and forth in his head for the whole next week.

And, on the spot, Baekhyun is so taken aback that he starts deep cleaning his apartment at midnight as soon as he finishes his noodles. 

To your own initial shock, he also drops an envelope with money under your office door the next day. And you thought someone was sending threats.

You get the underlying message, though. This is something just between the two of you, and the envelope is a yes. For another meal. Actually, more than that. There are 30 sorted bills in it, each to buy one box since he knows where you get the food from and what the standard price is. 

Payment for one month in advance. Meetings for one month in advance. This fucker. 

And you thought your sweaty scene at his apartment left him confused or weirded out. Nope, he decided he wants this times thirty. Something you have to let sink in.

The next day you drive along at the same time, there’s nobody there. 

Because Baekhyun has left the door open. Now you can’t just speed away again. Nor do you really want to, for God’s sake. 

After putting your helmet down in the small entrance room, you find an anxiously waiting Baekhyun on the extremely cleaned up living room couch, sitting there with fidgeting feet like it’s a porn casting. 

The tension could kill. You put the box on the table before him like it’s England’s Crown Jewels. You want to calm him down so desperately, but don’t know how.

Given his sparkly eyes set on the food, that he wants to devour what you brought him right away is not hard to overlook. But he still seems hesitant. Insecure. Baekhyun doesn’t manage to say a full word which is the most surreal thing. You work up your voice and pass him the chopsticks in their paper packaging. „Pig out. You didn’t eat since 7AM.“

Again, he breaks the chopsticks. Trying hard not to do it too fast.

You sit opposite to him and revert back to professional mode. Talking about statistics from the comeback that Baekhyun hummingly acknowledges the way he does when you talk to EXO in meetings. 

He stuffs himself like his life depends on it. No stable eye contact from him. 

Both of you know that it’s not what you want to say. But even ten minutes in: Nothing about the cafeteria, the fries, the envelope, the topless incident, the forehead patch, nothing. Just you going on about details from work and him listening, nodding, chewing, making brief little remarks and using all his standard corporate phrases. „Ah, yes, EXO surely benefits from that.“ But it’s a start. You begin small. 

So far, so good. With every evening, the conversation becomes more and more two-sided and the meals bigger. A second envelope soon enters your office, covering the extra costs for the XXL boxes, your fuel, and another month worth of meals. Note: Only one and a half weeks in. 

Fuck, you got yourself into something big. Is it because his dog likes you?

You are starting to like babying him like that, even if you both keep it serious. Unusually so, but at least you don’t get into any more accidents with that suspense off your either shoulders. 

It’s not like that cute little face would leave you any chance in the first place. Baekhyun smiles shyly around you. His big laugh is sweeping, but the small things… lethal. Absolutely lethal.

His manager doesn’t like it, but his genius idol’s mochi factor is increasing since you bring him spicy, richer foods. Baekhyun declines most snacks he’s offered at work, hardly eats up at the cafeteria and gives it to Foodcas Xuxi instead, and even the stylists wished he would gain more weight without any results in their convincing acts. But when you bring him a large portion of extra al dente spaghetti or — as of recently — self-made black bean noodles, Baekhyun would consider it rude not to follow the call of the carbs. 

Interesting.

He eats even more aggressively when he knows you made the food yourself. 

Quickly enough, he pays either for take-out or ingredients meant for not one, but two people. You usually eat a little earlier than he does, but you would not trade the best luxury meal in the world eaten by yourself with being together in Baekhyun’s flat. To the average Joe, this would be the biggest hassle, but to you… there’s no way you can get enough of being around him so privately. You enjoy taking the time to buy food for him. Taking the time in general.

You’re not the only one.

I don’t have to tell you how Baekhyun has to fight getting a vicious hard-on with sitting opposite to you with your motorcycling jacket peeled down to the hip, right inside a staring-not staring-staring-not staring match while you both slurp on your noodle soup pretending to be apprentice and idol.

It’s… bizarre. And hot. And bizarre. And frustrating.

You both don’t know where to take all of this. You end up making it a rock-solid daily routine, but not going any further than that because you are afraid. The excuse: Never change a running system.

In the meantime, Baekhyun works out even more. Not to compensate for the calories or to get rid of the increasingly chubby cheeks. Nope, it’s to impress you and show his fitness, plain and simple. At times, the music once again blasts in the practice room after everyone left. You come in to clear the room with Baekhyun in one of his very tight tank tops. 

You greet each other softly smiling. The familiarity really does begin to show. While you sort and organize, he writes you a little note on what to get for food tonight. He scribbles a little „:3“ emoji underneath. 

You think about that for at least two hours before you drive to his apartment.

So, yeah. Something is going on with him regardless of both of you trying to keep your routine stable and CIA-level secret. 

He finds himself cringeworthy when he carries seven stacked up chairs to a group meeting at once just because you’re attending. But something in him can’t help it, for the love of God. At least in this regard, he thinks, something is running on autopilot in terms of flirting methods. Meaning, he really does hide less and less. 

Meanwhile, Lucas’ eyes are falling out because Baekhyun is mustering new levels of strength nobody suspected he had. In the most random situations, even. Baekhyun’s fitness trainer is also living one hell of a life because his protégée is so eager these days. Mastering everything from weights to pilates. Hormones are one hell of a drug.

Kai frequently remarks that Baekhyun is different. „He’s nagging much less, what’s going on, why, why!“ he says to Taemin on the regular, and they invent all kinds of theories.

Since Baekhyun doesn’t want to miss out on your daily evening visit nor spend 8 hours in the gym, that means: He increases the intensity of the work-outs. For two and a half weeks, he is completely knocked out afterwards.

And so… it happens.

Baekhyun falls asleep before your visit. The door he has opened beforehand as always, but you enter a dim room with dozing Baekhyun splayed on the bed in his red carpet outfit from earlier that day. He worked out in the morning, did some hosting, talked his soul out in an interview, attended an award show, drove home, and eventually collapsed in the sheets. Lights out.

You put the rice box and cake slice you brought along on his desk. He looks so cute when he dozes, but you also hate disturbing his sleepy angel hours. Especially because you know how worn-out his schedule has left him and you feel sorry for it. 

You feel weird for standing there with your take-out and want to hurry outside as fast as possible, but leave a note. 

For the first time in weeks, you eat dinner in your own flat.

After forcefully waking up at 3AM due to his usual sleep cycle being off balance, Baekhyun falls into a spiral of regrets. Once it dawns on him what time it is and he must have missed your visit, he buries his face in his palms sitting at the edge of the bed. 

He resents himself for neither cleaning up his bedroom properly nor staying awake even more so, no matter how eventful his day was. He imagines how you must have seen him sleep, probably in the most humiliating, unflattering position and with terrible hair, judging him for being rude, forgetful, unattractive, messy, and probably a thousand other things.

Until… he finds the note. That one gives him a second almost-heart attack, but an adrenaline-fueled one this time. He stumbles back onto his bed and reads it twenty times over.

„Rest well and dig in. Don’t worry. Text if you’re okay. 03304 68010113.“

After three typos in your number, almost choking on cold rice because he eats so passionately, and several minutes of going back and forth on sending something, he kicks his own ass and writes a little „I’m ok, I’m very very sorry! I’m an idiot 😭“. After you reply that he has no reason to apologize, he rambles on about how he wishes that he’s not being an inconvenience to you with a whole row of sad and dejected emojis. 

You hate that Baekhyun feels put on the spot and obliged because of you this way and try to think hard about how to solve the dilemma. You won’t try to stop the rain of his apologies by telling him to calm down because you know it’ll make it worse, and instead decide it’s time to get going.

The opportunity is now, and there’s only one.

‚So, I have an idea—“

Going to the groovy little underground pizza restaurant downtown is something that Baekhyun immediately accepts as a suggestion. He wants to compensate for his dozing, but he also knows that this is a whopping chance more than anything.

And… a covert first date. 

He knows that’s what it is. It’s about leveling up now.

Before you can write that you’ll treat him and he can relax, he gets firm with insisting that you will pay not a single dime. You know that it’s not just his overworking conscience speaking. It’s also the only way Baekhyun gets an occasion to express that he takes this very seriously via text. 

That he wants to repay you and aims to get the most out of meeting up is something you realize when he steps out of the wardrobe room the next evening after everyone in the company has gone home. 

The stylists he has told that he needs to try this particular outfit on for some time to get used to it. „I need to dance in this, so.“

Actually, it is meant for EXO performing at the Oscars next week, but he got away with the excuse and a promise to take care. 

And… he really did the rest of the styling all by himself. He’s turned into a glamorous neat freak. Every shiny hair glued into its desired place, freshly dyed honey blonde with soft brunette roots. 

In fact, who walks at you is a wholly different Baekhyun in a dark, reddish-violet satin suit, pointy black shoes, matte black tie, mature sultry eye shadow, black square sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his signature lipstick, with a distinct statement tote bag, and black lace socks. I repeat: Lace. This is the fanciest anybody has ever headed to eat $6.50 pizza at a tube station. I mean wow, just wow. The tailored shoulders and how tight the tux cinches in at the waist is on par with Kai’s Obsession crop top. 

Even the much more expensive award show outfit from last week looks like a potato sack compared to how much he dolled himself up and reinvented literally every inch about himself. Like you have to prevent yourself from drooling.

Yep. He. Means. Business.

Funnily enough, Baekhyun realizes his zeal and just how much he is trying to impress you at all costs when you turn up with your standard khaki trench coat, bunny print umbrella, and casual white sneakers that have seen World War 1 and 2. You know, just the way you always come to his apartment and the way it’s inconspicuous. 

Going by his face… he starts to overthink his esteem. You can see how his expression becomes mortified. You promptly decide to put an end to his self-conscious back and forth through taking him by the hand. 

„You’re the best-looking man in the world and I’m asking you for a date. Are you comin’ or are you not?“

You then make it particularly clear to him that if anything, this right in front of you is very much authentic Baekhyun and not someone else you’re in for after all. And, that you’re both in your genuine form tonight the way it’s gotta be, the way you know each other and the reason why you decided to do this. Boom.

Four-step Greek style sermon for tonight: Delivered.

Now he’s gaping at you too much to beat himself up. That mission is very much accomplished. Modern problems apparently require ancient rhetoric. You’re in a kick-ass mood tonight. I dunno, anybody would be, Baekhyun’s accentuated sense of style has the historic potential to make girls reckless.

Baekhyun’s hand is heated like an Icelandic geyser and his heartbeat rate would make the average rabbit look like an amateur. Believe it or not — it’s the first time you’re deliberately touching. It’s ridiculous.

You head to the company garage, he churns out five jokes in a row on how he must look like a Korean Elton John on the way to his best-of concert, you laugh… Baekhyun feels better. Three times as nervous compared to when you usually come to his flat, but better nevertheless. And he drives, so. 

He feels like he’s catching up and giving something back, no matter that you feel he doesn’t have to, but to him, it’s important. 

You joke back to him how it’s a little bit funny — Elton John pun intended — that you saw every inch of Baekhyun’s apartment at this point already but this is the first date. The world is upside down, but it’s SM Entertainment, so. Things get started in different ways, but they do.

That realization is getting to him, too. Baekhyun’s peacock alter ego emerges to bolt over the motorway like a lovedrunk Lewis Hamilton with a foot glued to the gas pedal, but also checks fifty times for how you feel in the passenger seat. Asking about how you like it, if the A/C is set to how you want it, whether your seat is tilted the way you enjoy it. Damn, he really is on edge. 

On top of that, said alter ego maneuvers him right into a 3-kilometer outer ring traffic jam before his innocent self even realizes it. More time to chat… more time to sit so close… more time you get to savor the comfort of his luxurious car. So that was a Freudian slip with a steering wheel right there.

You already know that Baekhyun has never tried as hard to make somebody like him. You compliment his taste in cars vice versa to take that pressure off before he turns into a nervous wreck entirely. And then, also adding that you could get used to this which makes Baekhyun feel like a billion Won. His eyes are downcast, his cheeks are beaming. Figures, light superpowers and such, we know the deal.

Meanwhile, that you really like him already and for a long time is something you challenge yourself to make more than apparent to him. If he’s still this desperate about pleasing you and unsure about how he comes across, there’s some work to do. This guy needs a sign. A football field-sized one. If Baekhyun’s demon is his self-worth tonight, yours is being a lot more demonstrative. You’ve been far too indirect with him all day every day.

That you’re outside of both your professional spheres actually helps: Big fucking time.

Easing him into a conversation happens surprisingly smooth when you recount visiting his apartment and seeing him sleep so beautifully. Which you say was the most gratifying thing which is the truth. It’s been on his mind, hearing about your relief makes a lot of things plague him less. 

You also add how you enjoy bringing him food just because. That he’s nice and good company, even when he sleeps. That assures Baekhyun and makes him laugh.

And yes. He ends up serenading you throughout the entire traffic jam. And yes. When Baekhyun is in love, his singing is particularly on point. You can hear the cherry on top in his registers. No need for the stereo, you can ask him to sing any song you like. 

The traffic jam disperses after 20 minutes, Baekhyun has interpreted your entire favorite playlist at this point. Arriving feels like way too soon. 

You put your trench coat over Baekhyun while he exits the car. There’s hardly anyone around in this part of the town but who knows, making sure not to mess up his hair in the process. Both of you hurry to the stairs leading underground. Meanwhile, the car is parked quite stealthily behind a closed-down fish restaurant with dusty windows.

It feels good to walk around with Baekhyun right by your side. 

The surroundings are cluttered with trash and only few people wait at the tube station that opens up before you with every step downwards. It’s actually perfect as a getaway. There are mostly older businessmen on shift at first glance. 

It’s colder out in the open and surrounded by surfaces of concrete, the car was like a spa by comparison. Baekhyun takes the initiative to put the trench coat back onto your shoulders. You feel flattered and you smile at each other, and walk on with synchronized steps. The pizza bar is almost within sight. In the meantime, the digital board announces the tube arriving in five minutes. He takes your hand.

And then… some real bullshit goes down.

A group of seven scraggly-looking teens lounge on a bench, roughly 200 meters before the pizza bistro. You have to pass the bench close-by given how narrow the walking space next to the train tracks is. 

One of them, the tallest of the bunch, coarsely shouts at you. „How much did that prostitute cost and where does he keep his money, huh?“ He sticks his wriggling tongue out right along. The others are ogling Baekhyun’s shoes and chest pockets, preying and laughing and sneering. It dawns on you that you should’ve asked for one more song in the car.

The mood tips. One of the boys sitting on the left side of the bench starts fiddling with a 3-inch switchblade. And then, something flicks the switch inside you, too. Your Kyoong-protect-o-meter goes through the roof faster than Baekhyun can get his car to the speed limit. 

Cue She-Hulk transformation. In an onslaught of your inner wrestling diva claiming her rights, you take matters into your own hands by hurling Baekhyun’s glitzy designer bag at the guy’s surprised face. Sorry Versace, it had to be done. The whole group gasps out loud. While they’re still caught off guard, you go on to lunge forward and furiously whack greasy knife guy and two other approaching attackers with your Roger fucking Rabbit umbrella using a windmill-motion martial arts technique you came up with from scratch. Baekhyun doesn’t even have to duck… being smol has its advantages. 

The switchblade is sent flying into a bin. Point landing. You proceed to rip into the group to helicopter your improvised weapon in circles until it threatens to plow down the better of them and they back away squealing and pleading. Britney would be so damn proud of you, I’m telling ya.

Needless to say, the mortally terrified group runs and disperses into the arriving tube, probably booking their therapist appointments for Monday morning already. You pick up the bag for Baekhyun a little breathless, dust it off, and say a prayer. Holy shit. 

What the hell just happened. Literally, what the fucking fuck.

An entirely wide-eyed Baekhyun still can’t believe that a whole group of sleazy guys twice as tall as him took an unhinged windmill beating by you to prevent a robbery, and meanwhile he is the martial arts champion. Like, hello? He’s been a Hapkido instructor with several gold medals. How many black belts does the guy have again? He could mow down fifty of that kind and pulverize anyone of them with a mere NCT-style kick. This is ridiculous. He’s mighty impressed.

A few businessmen at the station are looking at you from afar with open mouths. You wave and give a thumbs up signalling all is okay. The security personnel reviewing the CCTV the next day is down for a ride. You hope that there are no headlines with pictures of this. Tube brats get their ass busted by cartoon bunny at 2:15 AM. K-Pop star Baekhyun defended by mysterious umbrella wielder gone wild.

You take a deep breath, brush off your coat. „Um. Moving on I guess.“ Then, interlink arms with Baekhyun, strolling on toward the restaurant. Looking around everywhere, still a little shocked. Walking off your relief helps, as is looking forward to eating. Damn, you do outrageous things when you’re hungry.

The restaurant is the size of the practice room at best, lit with white neon and decorated with Italian flags in every corner. The empty seats are designed like in an American diner from the 80s.

The lanky six-foot-something waiter, Luigi Roberto Maranello Salvatore (his nameplate is really in-depth about this), hurries to the door when he sees how Baekhyun is dressed and probably thinks the King of Korea just arrived. Which he, in fact, did, but that’s beside the point. 

You sit at the very back and get comfortable after breaking your last sweat. An enthusiastic Luigi presents to you the latest ‚delicious couple menu options’ and promises to use the best toppings he can offer. You instantly trust him, Luigi has the most accurate mustache you’ve ever seen.

Baekhyun and you share a huge plate of the curiously named ‚Pizza Puppy Love‘  that might be better described as a circle-shaped late night gala buffet. You dig in because damn, fighting thugs makes hungry, and Baekhyun stuffs himself given how it’s his favorite meal. Luigi sees that you are avid eaters and way too busy looking at each other, so he disappears in the kitchen, proud of setting the mood just perfectly.

In the meantime, Baekhyun says that he thinks of hiring you as a sasaeng protection machine. You muse how the umbrella is sturdier than you thought and you wouldn’t hesitate to use it again now that you think about it. Being Baekhyun’s Jarvis is not a bad thought, actually. Beating up rascals for him is your newly discovered love language.

In fact: Whatever took over inside of you and made you lose your chill, Baekhyun is mighty curious about. He thinks that was very sexy. You get the feeling that this guy could like dangerous women. He might have picked that up from Taemin, credits to him.

After Baekhyun has dramatically recounted the umbrella incident at least five times, the conversation goes on about your embarrassing hiding stories, how hilariously over- and underdressed you are as a unit, and you teasing him about „speeding on the highway, are we“. Baekhyun teases you back about how you acted like his manager with your trench coat over his head. He kind of has a point and you call it a tie.

Seeing Baekhyun all full with his beloved pizza and acting so carefree in his Oscar suit is a cute sight. You take the liberty to cut a particularly large slice out of the puppy pizza UFO and feed him. 

If it’s a couple menu, you gotta act like it.

Baekhyun is making some mighty heart eyes at you, and so — you decide to take it a little further. This whole fight thing made you forget you’re on a goddamn date after… a whole year of eyefucking and that it’s about time to close the gap.

Luigi is wholly busy making order in the kitchen and Baekhyun has some tomato sauce stuck at the side of his mouth. Convenient. You take the chance to wipe it off with the tip of your right digit. 

He realizes what you’re doing and promptly grabs your hand to keep it right where it is. Uh-oh. His tongue darts out, he licks right across your finger. To top it off, he starts to suck it, too. With a typical nonchalance. Seeing how you almost combust, he takes another finger into his hot mouth. And sucks a little more. His lipstick smudges onto your hand. His eyes are like hot coals and the pupils are all blown. Oh my, my, my. 

If you’re just playing, don’t you ever give Baekhyun anything to escalate on like that, ever. The way you were ready to knock down the seven guys, he is ready to get physical once the first step is done. Though, the thing is. You’re not playing. It’s exactly the type of fodder that you’ve been craving to give him. Baekhyun’s oral fixation is something else.

The rest of the pizza is gone in five minutes…

…and Luigi gets the tip of his life.

You walk to the car in much faster steps than before. Even if it’s later than late, nobody is around anymore except a sleeping beggar on the other side of the station. No danger in sight whatsoever. There’s a different reason to get going like that this time and there’s no way you can mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming.

Back to the fish restaurant, back to the car spa. Nobody on the streets, anywhere. This night, Baekhyun does not feel even remotely tired, though.

After you put your umbrella in the trunk — you will honor it much more from now on — the driver’s and passenger’s seat stay empty for half an hour and a little more. Now, the actual stereo is on. There’s a lot to catch up with on the backseat.

Baekhyun puts Delight on repeat, and queues City Lights just because. Guy knows what good music and singing sounds like. You interlock hands and call him pretty. Baekhyun is flustered, but all the more eager. 

It takes barely a minute until you get serious with making out on top of him and grind on his lap like the world ends. The satiny fabric is too tempting not to gyrate all over it in your jeans. Lord knows his legs are great. You know what you signed up for. Those thighs are so delicious to straddle, you can’t even imagine. 

Baekhyun gazes at you so intently and ready, whispering his little you-can-do-anythings and tell-me-all-you-wants, it’s like magic.

To top it off, kissing his little pouty lips has got to be the best thing, running your hands through his sexy hair — even more so. Your mouth and fingers have been begging you to do this. Begging. 

From there, your hands go places. His neatly razored nape of the neck, his waist, the chest. His suit, all that expensive fabric, his gentle skin, it’s so nice to the touch. He smells so hot. Bergamot, cinnamon, and sweet, deep, rich and soothing sandalwood. „Girl, I’m your Candy“ gets a whole new meaning. Practice room memories. As if you aren’t wet enough already. 

By the last minute of the second track, Baekhyun is already hooked kissing your neck and does some very daring acrobatics with his tongue. And you thought the pizza would satiate him. Nope, he eats you up like a whole salad bowl of black bean noodles with three pounds kimchi and ten fried eggs stacked on top. In his own words I mean lyrics: Game over.

The desperation and nervosity adds even more sloppiness and hunger. These have got to be the lewdest slurping and sucking noises you’ve ever heard. You can’t help but curse the ugliest things. Something’s pretty damn hard through the front of his tux already. 

Baekhyun feels that you feel it and the kissing becomes even more frantic. His whole body says: Grind more. Please. Please.

By the time the fourth track starts, Baekhyun’s entirely wet mouth wanders upward. Here goes the French kissing madness. You glide your hips back and forth on his bulge, and his tongue is already winding inside of you like it’s advanced singing lessons. It’s so unreal that you have to grab hold of his upper arms to stay in place. Shit, this guy. 

You can tell that this… is his absolute forte. Nobody can fuck with Baekhyun when it comes to outrageous mouth and throat technique. Your tongue gets a sense of how confident he is in his lip service and works his way into it. Now you know how it feels when Byun Baekhyun pays back your attention. Holy Luigi’s Cannoli, he has so much fun. Way, way too much fun. Like Sir, this is a Wendy’s.

And that’s the last damn straw. Really, the last one. You can’t do this shit anymore. You ask for condoms. 

After freezing up for at least ten seconds, he nods his little head about ten times in a row. It’s as if he can’t actually believe it and didn’t just kiss the shit out of you with the hardest dick in history.

„Okay, I’ll—“

Baekhyun keeps them in a yellow puppy-shaped bag under the driver’s seat and takes three torturous minutes to get them from there since it’s underneath and behind other random things. Which means you get to look at his ass for said time because he is bent forward between the two front seats. It’s not like you’ve never seen Baekhyun from behind, but never this close nor in a suit as tight since he usually wears baggy things. So. He’s not just big in the front, then. For his build? That is Korea’s ass.

And the condoms? You expected they were in his tote or his suit within one reach and rip. Nope, Baekhyun did not leave the company building with intentions. He’s been managing this raging boner for a whole year and did not make any moves on you in his apartment where he could have had you on any available surface in two minutes. Baekhyun wasn’t close to even remotely ask for literally anything. He just sat there on the couch with restless legs, ruffled hair, and an open mouth while hearing you talk. You don’t want to imagine how intensely he must have gotten off. Which he, in fact, did. 

He didn’t deliberately plan sex in a specific place for the first date either. Instead, he was prepared for— what exactly? A slight eventuality? Now that you think about it: Going by how he dressed himself, what Baekhyun probably thought he could get out of this was: A compliment. Even if all of your evening visits were nothing but hardcore sexual tension and this was the chance to bring that to an end. Let that sink in.

This guy’s self-control is not only astronomical, but also completely astounding given his usual character. In fact, you thought he would be entirely sovereign with this. How could he not? He’s Baekhyun!

Going by all that… You conclude that Baekhyun must really feel like he does not deserve you. His shame and self-denial must go through the roof. Given how his deeper insecurities have been in plain sight, it actually makes sense. Looks like you’re the one bringing them out, whatever it is that you do. It’s pretty tough knowing that you rouse something as vulnerable in him but it’s as good as it is bad. You find him very brave and incredible for letting it show. Honestly? It’s better than pushing through all of this pretending.

Plus — You really must have given him the impression that he can look but not ever touch. While that’s the entire opposite of what you want. 

To be fair: Having Baekhyun openly touch you in the company would have been a dangerous act. Even more so than say, you touching him, (which would have been somewhat possible, look at stylists and managers casually or work-relatedly doing skinship). Because that means that the availability his profession suggests to the world is no longer a thing and his mind is set on one person. Which, in his field, is social death. 

That’s why Baekhyun could only ever touch you by virtue of circumstances and whatever higher forces arranging accidents where he bumped into you. Talk about indirect ways. The universe gave you what you wanted, but in a way where there was always the excuse of bad luck and no possibility of other people finding out about your feelings. Risky love breeds risky circumstances.

The same with showing his body or knocking at your door to get your attention. He knows he can’t do that, can’t ask for it. So what happens? You accidentally walk in on him, or he crashes against your office entrance after slipping.

The same with treating you, spending time together, getting taken care of by you. Baekhyun found himself wishing for it. So it happened that you spilled your fries and he bought them for you all over, and he was begging for fried noodles so the opportunity to meet surprisingly came about. The accidents themselves both of you didn’t want nor deliberately stage, but you very much wanted the results of them. Directly you could not express your feelings, not even Baekhyun. That’s how it all came to be and now you see just how much he wants to be close to you in so many ways.

That he feels ashamed and undeserving — that shocks the living hell out of you. 

So, all right then, keeper. Time to show you otherwise. 

It’s crazy how he thinks you’re the one off limits and not him. Then again, he’s not the guy with the savage umbrella technique.

Since his hand is too shaky, you slip one on him and start to ride him without any further ado. You’re already leaking so what’s left to fiddle around about. No wasting any time here. 

The deal is as good as sealed. He feels fucking great inside of you and his wide eyes are the most rewarding thing. Whatever dimension Baekhyun just broke through, the level of whipped is not possible to be described with any human words. His hands are roaming over you pretty much without aim, you can tell your body is too much for him.

After he’s begging you to do it roughly, you grab him by the collar and fuck his soul out until he’s all gasping because his dick hurts. The song’s called Are You Ridin’ with good reason.

Baekhyun’s brains are long screwed out at this point, if not reduced to absolute green and purple jello. Is there actually any mind to lose at this point after you had your fingers in his mouth? Like literally, his favorite thing? Probably not. 

He bites down into his sleeve. Baekhyun is all knocked out by you by the time you get to your second orgasm, and reclines on the backseat bench to starfish the rest of the thing with his mouth hanging open at you. Hormone overload. His entire body shut down except the will to keep it up and not come. Yum, he is fit. Where he takes that godly strength from, only higher powers can tell. The Tree of Life, Zeus, Ten Chittaphon, I don’t know. 

He just has the kind of dick you can really bounce on. Really. Fucking. Hard. You are one spark of insanity close to run on autopilot. I don’t think anybody’s growled like this on him before. Nor was Baekhyun’s cock this close to falling right off, ever. 

This is not sex, it’s a crazy as fuck pounding, with Baekhyun on the verge of being blacked out with drool on his chin and his eyes rolling back. His fingers are absentmindedly trailing down your upper back and all he can utter is a small, yearning „please, please“ and gritting „don’t stop, please don’t stop…“ between his teeth. And hell, you have not a single reason to. Cue Captain America, I can do this all day.

When other people say smashing, whatever they’re referring to is not as smash as this. This must be the dirtiest, wettest slapping noise you’ve ever heard, and Baekhyun’s entirely uncontrolled moans will be forever etched into your memory. So melodic, so goddamn excited and desperate and all fucked out. He’s groaning so well, it’s like it’s meant for you.

By the third time you come, he’s crying and whining and has to cover his mouth not to scream out loud. You have no idea what your body is doing, but whatever it is, it’s taking Baekhyun out. Even you tire after some time, but you keep going. You imagine that every thrust is the meal and attention you wanna give to him.

That’s a lot of fucking and edging you get done in half an hour. Baekhyun’s tongue is hanging out afterwards and you went through a whopping three condoms. So much frustration finally released. Baekhyun’s gonna be emptier than Suho’s wallet after Sehun ordered a lifetime supply of bubble tea. 

You squarely avoid oozing your own cum onto his backseat with one hand. Good lord that creampie would ruin everything if he didn’t wear a condom. You’ve come a long way since colliding in the cafeteria, not gonna lie.

And thank God you’re not fucking somewhere in the company and the Audi is close to soundproof because this guy is LOUD. You need some good eardrums to handle these moans. Unhinged is an understatement. If this becomes a contest outwhoring each other, he’d win by a landslide. 

By the time you slip off, Baekhyun is on the verge to the dreamland, you milked every last drop out of him. Which means… 

…you get to drive an expensive as fuck Audi through Seoul. Your beatdown with the tube thugs you try to refrain from boasting about, but this one you are tempted to brag about to yourself for the next week. Well, in your mind. Just a little bit. It’s a great car. And you feel giddy in your body all over. That’s what sex with Baekhyun does to you. 

Seoul traffic is tame around this time. Half in his sleep, Baekhyun hums and sings on the driver’s seat. He’s all sober, but you made the guy act a lil’ drunk, huh. In his element, he talks and talks and talks and talks a little more. Then, does his tiny 'ㅅ' pup face and dozes for half the ride. Sleeping angel hours.

You can’t really scold him for passing out so fast in the slightest. As always, he went who knows how many extra miles just for you. That includes vowing to hand-wash his Oscars suit because it’s fucking ruined. Since the stylists are guaranteed to flame him, you send the fashion department a message how Baekhyun has to wear a different suit because he’s simply too dummy thick for this one, especially as far as the pants are concerned. Which is almost no lie and they will believe you. 

Much like his name suggests, Baekhyun does go hundred. At his apartment, you basically have to carry him into the bedroom. He says he doesn’t want to sleep. But you won’t kiss him goodnight after you pull off your jacket without a strong word on how his health has to be priority. He gets the point when you say you wouldn’t have had a first date without Baekhyun dozing off before your evening visit.

Sweet baby Jesus, you’d still be awkwardly slurping noodles without Baekhyun’s faux pas. If you look back at it: It’s all a story of accidents that turn out beautiful.

Sleep being Baekhyun’s reset button, that’s the best thing to do in order to give the night a good conclusion. Being alone in his apartment together, you don’t have to discreet about sleeping next to him after setting the alarm clock.

Mark Lee’s piping hot Americano is the culprit for all of this, but you thank him.

----

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[restapesta]

done for

I read somewhere that there weren’t enough s3 and s2 moments between Ian and Mickey written, and I completely agreed, so this was born! This is sort of a speedwrite thing, because it took me 50 minutes which I had set for myself to write this, and it’s kind of short (there was so much word vomit and I just cut all of that lol). Anyway, this is basically Ian and Mickey’s kiss after the first one, and no, it’s not during the sleepover because that’s just triggering knowing what comes next lol (this is kind of between the van kiss and invite to the sleepover). Enjoy!

Mickey opened a dam by kissing Ian that first time in the van; he was unaware of how much water would overflow with that one simple press of lips. Getting shot in the ass was a warning—a clear sign from the universe not to fucking try to do it again—but fuck if he could stop Ian from finishing what Mickey himself had started. It took only a few days for Ian to do what Mickey had encouraged him enough to achieve.

It took until the next time they saw each other.

They were in the Kash 'n Grab, inching for their usual break, and Ian seemed strange. His eyes held a sort of primal stare that locked Mickey in and forbade him from escaping. Ian held his gaze, all while locking the door insinuatingly, nodding towards the freezer. Mickey understood, but hesitated, confident that this whole thing wouldn’t be just another one of their average hookups. Ian and Mickey had never been average, but their normal was fucking, pants around their ankles, barely any unnecessary touches, and no kissing.

Mickey stupidly erased that important fucking boundary, and all it took to do so was a simple challenge in Ian’s voice; he’s not afraid to kiss me. And fuck Ian for making everything infuriatingly complicated.

Mickey wasn’t afraid of anything—if he could handle juvie and drug runs, he could handle kissing Ian fucking Gallagher, even if he was a dude. Mickey never backed down from a challenge; he was a Milkovich, taking a challenge head-on was in his blood. And it wouldn’t even mean anything. It’s just lips pressing together. Mickey had kissed many girls in his eighteen years of life, and they never meant shit to him. He wasn’t even fucking gay. He enjoyed having something up his ass, but that didn’t mean he liked Ian. Ian just had a good dick.

Ian wasn’t a bad guy and maybe Mickey did like hanging out with him, but romantic stuff? Mickey wasn’t a fag like Ian, he didn’t have feelings for him and all that bullshit.

When he kissed him—even though he said it meant nothing; even if he wanted to keep pretending that he hadn’t daydreamed about Ian touching his mouth to his own more times than he could count—he couldn’t. Not anymore, at least. The kiss was quick. Barely even there. And yet, it lingered. It lingered inside Mickey’s mind days after as he lay on his stomach, trying to relieve the pain from the bullet wound on his ass cheek. He kept replaying the moment in his head; the fucking feeling that followed it.

Mickey never felt fucking butterflies because he wasn’t a fucking teenaged girl, but the warmth in the pit of his stomach suggested otherwise. It only appeared when he was around Ian—it was simply there these past years he had known Gallagher, and Mickey wasn’t really used to it; it made him icky and nervous. Now, the warmth spread from his abdomen towards other parts of his body, and not just his dick. The feeling encompassed his chest, his legs, his hands; it left him tingling all over, and there was a dull ache in his ribcage, as if somebody had taken his heart in their hand and squeezed it.

Mickey didn’t know if he should blame Gallagher for it—would that be admitting something to himself and to Ian? He didn’t care, especially not now when the guy in question was coming up behind him in the cold room they always used as hookup spot in the store. Not when Ian had a dangerous look in his eyes, a glint that Mickey couldn't place.

Ian was perfect; he always had been, much to Mickey’s chagrin, who just wanted to dub him as annoyingly clingy and get rid of his aggravating presence. But he couldn’t; not when Ian smiled and flashed his white teeth. Not when his freckles multiplied in the summer glow. And definitely not when he grew from a cute kid with dark red bangs to the type of guy who made Mickey’s dick hard with just the mental image of his chiseled body. Mickey could also lie and say Ian’s dimples didn’t turn him on, and that his stupid laugh didn’t churn his insides. That he didn’t feel nauseous in the best and worst ways when Ian got closer.

That Ian wasn’t getting closer in every single way possible.

The ginger was here now in Mickey’s space. Green eyes dark with lust and confidence, and suddenly, Mickey didn’t have a clue what to do. Ian was in charge, with his pale hands caressing Mickey’s face, fingertips passing over his lips. The action stunned Mickey, and he was sure his eyes were wide and wild, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t force himself to stop Ian; to tell him the usual, no, I’m not what you think I am, I don’t like you. Get the fuck off me.

Ian was intoxicating; he was like a drug Mickey once tried, and now couldn’t stop taking. Ian gave him a high like Mickey had never experienced. He made him hide his smiles and laughter; he made him dream, and for the first time in years, the dreams weren’t nightmares. Ian made him feel happy.

He was leaning in now. Mickey didn’t want to stop him. He had drawn a line they shouldn’t’ve crossed, that he said Ian shouldn’t cross. But didn’t Mickey completely erase that with the van thing?

Ian was kissing him now, his soft lips pressing against Mickey’s, agonizingly slow. They were just touching. One moment there, so soft, and the next, gone. Ian, pulling away, forced Mickey to meet his eyes as his insides twisted into tight knots, unrelenting. There was a whole fucking swarm of bees in his stomach and they were stinging him, and fuck, Ian’s eyes were so shiny.

HIs eyes were closing again as Ian dipped his head. It was different now; Ian wasn’t just letting their conjoined mouths rest—he was moving his soft lips. They were kissing, and Ian was gripping Mickey’s head, thumb caressing his cheek, and Mickey let himself get kissed because it felt so good. And fuck, not even sex was this amazing.

This wasn��t raw lust and passion. This wasn’t what Ian and Mickey were, fuck-buddies, border-lining friends.

This was a lover’s kiss, and Mickey would never admit how good it felt. How his entire body seemed to boil from the heat, even if they were in a goddamn cooler. Mickey couldn’t even stop to wonder if he was doing this right; hadn’t he been told by many girls that he was a terrible kisser? Good fuck, shitty kisser. He stopped kissing girls during sex after that, but was he doing good now? Was Ian… he shouldn’t be thinking that, not when Ian was slipping his tongue past Mickey’s parted lips, after he came up to gasp for air.

He didn’t even need air right now. He needed Ian, and there was no doubt in his mind anymore. Not a single one as he positioned himself better, and gripped Ian’s face and Ian’s red locks, tugging at them.

This feeling; their tongues meeting and setting Mickey on fire, making the swarm of bees become wasps and spread from his stomach to his chest, was indescribable. Blood shot straight down to his dick. And there was something about kissing Ian, about the way he bit his lower lip with his teeth, pulling on it. About the way he dug his hands into Mickey’s sides, pressing him impossibly closer, that made Mickey feel like there was nothing else in this world but Ian.

Ian, who strolled into his life with nothing but a fucking tire iron.

Ian, who was his perfect match. The top to his fucking bottom.

Ian, who had somehow become his best fucking friend.

Ian, who was kissing him like Mickey was the only person in the entire universe.

Breathless, panting, they pulled apart. Ian seemed like he was barely standing upright, and Mickey understood. His knees were wobbly, and he could barely hold himself straight; would probably topple over if it wasn’t for Ian, holding him by his waist. His lips were red and swollen, and he was looking at Mickey with his eyes swimming with lust and maybe something more. He looked so hot.

And then Ian smiled his wonderful smile, and Mickey couldn’t stop himself. This was when he fucking surrendered because there was no way he could fight the urge anymore.

It was the moment he admitted to himself that Ian Gallagher had crept his way inside of Mickey, both literally and figuratively, and it would be impossible to cast him out now. Not when he finally knew what it felt like to kiss him. To be kissed by him.

Mickey was fucking done for.

He knew it as he pressed forward to kiss Ian chastely on the lips again. He couldn’t stop himself; this wasn’t him. He didn’t kiss guys. He wasn’t fucking gay.

But this was Ian, and Ian was so fucking beautiful with his pale skin, his emerald green eyes, and his fucking freckles, and, oh God, his lips. His fucking lips.

How could Mickey not fall in...

No.

No.

Ian kissed him again, and Mickey lost his trail of thought.

“See,” He started as they pulled apart, again. “You should’ve let me kiss you a long time ago.”

And Mickey was so fucking lucky, because he remembered to scoff and not just stare at Ian like a love-struck idiot. “Dream on, this wasn’t that good.”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

“Oh?” Ian didn’t seem too deterred, but he was still leery. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Mickey didn’t know how to reply. Of course he wasn’t, and Ian didn’t need to be worried, so Mickey replied the only way he knew how.

He grinned teasingly, “Maybe you should try again, and see if it works better.”

Ian smiled that fucking gorgeous, amazing smile, and kissed Mickey. He kissed him and Mickey felt so high that he didn’t think any drug could ever replicate what he was feeling now. The bliss he had never felt, not even in the best of orgasms Ian had given him. This right here; this was better than all the best times in his life combined, and it scared Mickey. It scared him so much.

There was no coming back from this. But Mickey didn’t want to come back; he had jumped off of a fucking cliff the first time Ian Gallagher told one of his stupid puns, and made Mickey want to laugh at how adorable he was.

He knew he was fucked then. And he knew he was fucked now.

“Better?” Ian’s breath fanned Mickey’s face.

“Maybe.”

And they didn’t stop kissing. Not when they left for the abandoned buildings; Ian didn’t waste time pushing Mickey down onto the hot pavement and slipping his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, effectively lighting him on fire. Mickey was hotter than the blazing Sun burning their backs through their thin summer clothes.

They didn’t stop kissing the next day, either. Ian was smart; he didn’t greet Mickey with a kiss in the middle of the street, but he pushed him against the wall the moment they were alone and out of sight, clasping their mouths together as if Mickey was the air he needed to breathe.

And Mickey let him.

He let him do whatever he wanted, because there was no fight let in him—no resignation. No hope to push Ian away anymore.

There was nobody out there like Ian Gallagher. And Ian Gallagher belonged to him; Mickey knew it in the way he pushed forward to meet every kiss and every thrust of his tongue inside his mouth Ian sent his way.

He would never get kissed like this by anyone else, ever again.

Mickey was aware, even then, that he would kiss Ian Gallagher for the rest of his fucking damned life, no matter how short it was.

It sealed his fate for fucking good and there was no going back.

[redhoodieone]

On Your Knees

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

 “Dick! I-uh! I-I wasn’t doing anything!” I stutter anxiously. I quickly pull up my panties and yoga pants. The paper towel used to clean Bruce’s cum is still on the counter.

I’m beyond embarrassed and nervous, and with Dick standing there, knowing exactly what I did with Bruce is worse. Dick must think I’m a slut who has sex with fathers, and he’s going to make my life a living hell because of it.

Dick Grayson isn’t that tall. He’s about 5’10, and he’s generally never frightening or threatening. But Dick’s light blue eyes stare me down hard. His mouth is closed tightly; and his jaw is clenched. His usual friendly and big brother demeanor is long gone.

And here Dick Grayson stands, in his gray sweatpants and muscle fitting black t-shirt. His dark hair is messy; possibly from the constant running his hand through his hair or his usual evening nap before patrol.

All I want to do is throw the nasty paper towel away and go hide for a bit. If Dick knows what Bruce and I did, it’s only a matter of time before Jason, Tim, Damian, and Alfred will find out.

Maybe even Selina Kyle. Joker, even.

“So, you said you weren’t doing anything, is that right Y/N?” Dick asks casually, a tint of sarcasm is laced in his voice. He comes closer to me. His breath is hot and heavy. “It seems to me you were being fucked hard by Bruce.”

What people don’t know is Dick can be pretty blunt when he’s angry. He swears, drops F bombs, and can be as pissed off Jason Todd. As rare as that may be, he can still be a dick if he wants to be (pun intended.)

“Look, it was a mistake. It should have never happened, and-and I would appreciate it if no one else knows about it, okay? Please don’t say anything,” I plead. If I could, I would get on my knees and beg pathetically.

As if Dick read my mind, he suddenly grins. The charming, sexy smirk is back on his handsome face. “Now, why don’t you be a good girl and show me the same affection and fun you gave Bruce? Get on your knees, now.”

I freeze. “W-what?” I choke out.

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe you’re just a daddy’s girl. I mean...” Dick confesses before he pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. He tilts his head down to mine. “Because I’ve always been a big brother to you, haven’t I?”

“Of course, you’ve always been my big brother,” I swallow hard.

“And as your big brother, don’t I deserve the same attention as Bruce? Oh Y/N, the things I would do to you...the things I have imagined and dreamed of,” Dick whispers in my ear.

My pussy is still overly sensitive from Bruce, but I want Dick just as much as he wants me. Following my instinct, I lower myself on my knees, and I start pulling down his sweatpants.

Dick Grayson is not just an attractive guy, but he’s as sexy as Bruce and Jason. But Dick is sexier when it comes to foreplay. I would be lying if I said I never saw him getting blow jobs from Barbara, Kori, and other girls he’s been with. It’s kind of hard to ignore, respect his privacy, and look away when his bedroom door is never shut all the way. I have stood in front of his door, watching how he’d either stand or lie down, with his whole chest out on display. Sweat running down his pecs, hard stomach, and all the way down his abdominal V line.

The way Dick would groan with frustration is enough to make me wet. I want to see him bite his bottom lip until he’d bleed. I want him to hold my head and thrust himself into my mouth until he cums.

The second I pull down his white briefs (a WAYNE product with the WAYNE name brand at the top of the band. I see this happening one day, so fight me! Hahaha!!!), Dick’s cock is long, hard, and leaking. The difference between all their cocks? Bruce’s is thick, massive, and monstrous. Jason’s is average size, thick in size and girth. But oh, I can’t pick the best one. I haven’t even had Jason yet.

I slowly pull Dick’s briefs down, and his cock immediately slaps against his toned stomach. He’s breathing hard, and his hands are shaking at his sides.

“Well? Suck me good, sweetheart,” Dick begs. His voice cracks, and it makes my heart swell.

I quickly grab his cock and began stroking him slowly. Dick’s moans encourage me to move faster, but his hand in my hair says otherwise. Instead of ramming his cock in my mouth, he gently pushes my head to his dick. I open my mouth and take him in. He smells and tastes like sweat, but his clean bodywash makes his pubic region mouthwatering. Dick’s precum is tasty, and I find myself wanting more of it. I look up while I begin to suck his cock, and I notice Dick’s staring at me with hooded eyes, and his mouth parted open.

His breathing is hard. I focus on sucking his cock the best I could. I tighten my lips around his dick, and I bob my head while massaging his balls.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck, you suck my cock so good. You’re doing so good, Y/N,” Dick moans louder; not even caring if anyone hears us.

I moan around him. I run my tongue along his shaft, and until my tongue licks the sensitive head, Dick growls loudly.

“Stop teasing me or I won’t do anything for you!” Dick threatens.

“You were planning on doing something for me, Dickie?” I tease back.

“Just suck my cock, Y/N. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

The way Dick’s voice breaks at the end just shows how much torture I’m putting him through. I continue sucking him harder, and I stroke him with what couldn’t fit into my mouth. Dick finally has enough. His fingers run through my hair so he can grip my head and starts to pound into my mouth. I gag and tear up, but I don’t care. Dick then makes it his mission to thrust himself farther and faster into my mouth. I breathe through my nose to calm myself, but his cock and moans are making me wetter than before.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! I-I’m gonna cum in your mouth!” Dick whines.

Dick then pushes my head back and orders me to open my mouth. His large hand holds his cock tightly and spurts his cum out onto my tongue. He deliciously moans one last time, and gazes at me as I swallow all his cum.

“Y/N…you’re such a dirty girl,” Dick compliments me.

“Thank you,” I reply proudly.

Dick helps me stand and pushes me against the refrigerator. With my back pressed up, he takes advantage of kissing my neck. Biting and sucking every spot he can, his hand slips into my yoga pants. He rubs my pussy through my panties.

“God, it’s like you were hoping to get fucked by us today, huh?” he whispers in my ear.

“I actually wasn’t expecting any of this. I just dream about it, but that’s about it,” I admit, panting against his chest.

“Bullshit. Just admit it, Y/N. The sooner you admit it, the sooner you’ll feel like you’re flying with me,” Dick says seductively.

Fuck Dick with his charming voice and words. Of course, he had to add his history in his sexy speech; The Flying Grayson’s. He knows I love listening to his circus stories. I groan angrily, and I look into his playful baby blue eyes.

“Fine, I…was hoping one of you would break and fuck me. Happy?” I snap.

“I’m already there, Y/N.”

Dick’s skilled fingers slip into my panties, and he begins rubbing my clit furiously. Gasping, I arch my back, and reveal my neck and chest for Dick to suck, lick, and kiss me until I unravel. He slips two fingers inside me, and finger fucks me until I’m panting and on the brink of losing myself.

“Fuck Dick…don’t stop. Don’t stop, please,” I plead loudly.

“Say my name out loud! I want Bruce and Jason to hear!” Dick demands. He adds another finger, as his thumb rubs consistent circles against my clit.

“Dick! Oh my God, Dick! Don’t stop! I-I’m gonna cum!” I scream.

Dick curls his fingers inside me and rubs against that spot I’ve learned to love and desire more of.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel and taste your cum,” Dick moans in my ear. He can’t stop grinning at me.

“Dick!” I yell. My pussy clenches and unclenches around his fingers. I can feel my juices running down my thighs, and I assume Dick’s hand is soaked right now.

When Dick withdraws his fingers, I lazily watch him stick them in his mouth. He sucks every part of his fingers, and he smiles at me.

“Delicious…I knew you would be delicious, Y/N,” Dick praises me. He finally kisses me and gives me a taste of myself. Our tongues dance along each other, and I let myself fall into his embrace, because he’ll always be there to catch me. Dick pulls away for second, and grins against my lips. “You give amazing head too, sweetheart. Lucky me, right?”

“Dick!” I cry out embarrassed. I slap his chest playfully and kiss him once more.

“You were good, Y/N. So good…” he confesses softly.

“You were too, Dick.”

The moment between us is perfect. I have finally had the two men I fantasized about. Someone clearing their throat interrupts us. We pull away from each other quickly in complete panic mode.

There stood Jason Todd. Completely dressed in his Red Hood costume, with his helmet under his arm, he has an angry, full of rage expression on his handsome features. His blueish, grey eyes are on me, and he tightens his jaw.

“What the actual fuck, Y/N?!”

[jlalafics]

“Operator”-an Everlark Ficlet

For @mrspeetamellark, who wanted “Peeta’s dirty filthy sex talk”. Enjoy!

Katniss couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Delly had convinced her that this would broaden her horizons.

Apparently, that’s what she needed after a dumping such as hers.

Her year-long relationship with Cato had ended with a bitter fight and him telling her that she was bore in the bedroom. Then, he promptly informed her that he was moving out of their apartment to shack up with Clove, a little beast of a woman who had clawed her way up into Cato’s penis.

That was fine. The relationship had been going downhill months ago.

However, this was kind of a new low for her.

She went to the mirror in the corner of her bedroom, looking at her reflection and wondering if the black nightie was necessary.

Then, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle on her bedside table, Katniss pulled out a card with the scantily clad man on it and dialed the number.

It rang a twice.

She told herself she would hang up on the third, when someone suddenly picked up the line.

“Hello?” came a smooth, deep voice.

“Hi,” she croaked out nervously. “This is stupid.”

The man on the phone chuckled. “I hope not. It’s how I make a living.”

“Oh hell—I’m sorry!” Katniss slap her palm to her forehead. “I’ve never done this before, but my friend suggested it as a way to help me discover ‘my sexual goddess’—whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds like you’ve been going through something,” the man replied. “Want to tell me about it?”

“I’ve been living with my ex for a year and he just dumped me for a girl who will let him put it anywhere he wants.”

“Ouch. Sounds like a real charmer.”

“You bet,” she responded wryly. “I’m not too sad about it. I’m more insulted that he thought I was boring in bed. I mean, I would’ve let him put it anywhere, but some foreplay would’ve been nice. Also, being completely silent while I’m pulling out the big guns didn’t help.”

“Some guys expect women to just automatically go for anything,” the man said. “But I find that, in healthy sexual relationships, there has to be an equal amount of give and take.”

“Exactly!” Katniss took a sip from her glass and sat back against the pillows of her bed. “You seem like a decent person. Why are you working on a phone sex line?”

“Because I enjoy it,” he told her simply. “Also, this is just an evening job.”

“So, it’s like a stripper at night and paralegal by day kind of thing,” she replied.

The man chuckled. “Kind of. I have a pretty standard office job.”

“Me, too.” Katniss took another sip, her nerves beginning to relax. “So, how do we do this?”

“Let’s start with your name,” he told her.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeated.

His voice tightened at the last bit of her name and she straightened at the change of tone.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s just a very different name,” the man said. “But very pretty. I think I’m going to like saying it into your ear as you come.”

Her nipples immediately tightened at his words. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” He laughed roughly. “What pretty little thing are you wearing for me?”

“I knew you were going to ask that, at some point.” Katniss fingered the strap of her nightie. “I’m wearing a black nightie with lace along the top.”

“Sounds lovely,” the man replied. “Tell me; do you feel uncomfortable taking instructions?”

“Depends.” She smiled into receiver. “What are you going to tell me to do?”

“Give me a name,” he told her. “A name that means something to you. A name that turns you on. But I don’t want you to say it until you come.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

There was only one name that Katniss wanted to say.

He, however, was unattainable.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was low, and the timbre instantly electrified her…down there. “I can tell that you’re analyzing every single part of this call…what I must be thinking about you…what I look like—am I right?”

Katniss giggled. “Exactly.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I closed them.”

“I think that you’re a brave woman who’s taking control of her sexual life.” The man breathed against the receiver and Katniss shivered imagining his warm breath against her ear. “I’m blond, average height, with blue eyes. Imagine me in your mind.”

Katniss took a deep breath, the image of a man forming in her head. She saw him, undoing her favorite red tie, removing his black loafers, before lying next to her.

“I’m playing with the strap of your gown, Katniss…what were you doing before I came home?”

“Drinking wine…imagining what we would be doing once you got home,” she stuttered out. “I’m not good at this.”

“You were doing beautifully,” he assured her. “The tone of your voice…low…grounded…I bet you growl when you’re turned on…and I'd love to make you growl…”

Katniss felt the gush as her core pulsed at his words. She had foregone underwear and could see her arousal gleaming on her inner thighs.

“While you were waiting for me, did you touch yourself?”

Her fingers traced along the opening of her gown. “Yes…”

“Oh fuck—” He groaned into the receiver and the sound traveled straight to her cunt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Just thinking about coming home to you made me hard—” There was a grunt on her speaker, and she gasped at the image of him, cock straining through the zipper of his pants. “I had to close the door to my office and stroke myself to the thought of you…”

Katniss mewled into the phone, her hand traveling down between her legs as the other massaged her breast.

“God…”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he rumbled on the line. “I’m kneeling in front of you, open your cunt for me—”

“What?”

“Take those pretty little fingers of yours and use them to spread your labia, Katniss. I want to see that lovely hole…the one that I’m going to stick my fingers…then my tongue…and finally my cock—”

Behind her eyes, Katniss imagined this mystery man kneeling before her and using her index and middle finger, spread her outer lips apart to his hungry eyes.

“Mmmm…more…” She groaned into the phone. “I want more…please…”

“I got you—” Katniss could hear shifting and wondered if she was actually turning this stranger on. “You’re so wet for me, Katniss. I bet you taste delicious...go on…taste yourself.”

Losing herself in his voice, she lifted her hand to her mouth and stuck her fingers in her mouth.

“I can hear you sucking on your fingers.” He sounded desperate. “What do you taste like?”

She moved her fingers from her lips. “Light…but musky…”

The man moaned into the receiver. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” she growled. “I need you inside me.”

Her fingers went back to drenched core, moving along her inner lips, and dancing along her entrance.

“Undo my belt,” he commanded. “I can’t wait anymore, Katniss. I want you to pull out my cock. I want you to rub your cunt against my pants so every time I wear them, I can remember my dick ramming into that soaked hole of yours—fuck!”

Katniss took her fingers, plunging them straight into her core. “UH!” She lost herself in the motion, her hips jerking as she fucked herself—or in her mind, he fucked her—into oblivion. “I’m going to come…”

“Me too, baby,” he moaned. “Touch your clit, make yourself come for me, Katniss…”

Her hand went to her pearl, circling the peaked nerve, and she felt the crest of her climax in sight.

“Don’t forget…” he demanded. “Say my name…say my name when you come—”

Her whole body arched, tensing, before she crashed, and her hips bucked as the white-hot pleasure blinded her.

“FUCK—PEETA!”

She could hear his ragged breaths as her hips landed back on her mattress.

“Oh God…that was amazing.”

“You are amazing,” he breathed, almost tenderly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the phone. “I thought that maybe my ex was right—that I was a horrible lay. But it wasn’t me. He just never inspired me…or made me want…you did.”

“Katniss?”

Her eyes opened slowly. “Yes?”

“It’s me—” He took a deep breath. “Peeta.”

She snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Today is your 25th birthday.” Katniss shot up at his words. “Your office gave you a cake—chocolate with strawberries on top and almonds sprinkled on the sides, along with a bottle of wine.” Her eyes went to the open bottle of pinot. “My office is right across from yours—and I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.”

“Peeta…” Her eyes filled. “Two years?”

“Two years,” he confirmed. “Delly told me that you and Cato broke up. I had to take a chance even if it was this.”

“Do you actually work as a phone sex operator?”

“No,” he replied. “Delly made that flier.”

“Damn her and her graphic skills,” she muttered.

“Do you hate me? For lying to you?” Peeta asked carefully. “If you ended up not calling, I was going to ask you out on Monday, but I understand if you never want to speak to me—”

“Peeta.” He stopped. “Would you really do all the things you said over the phone?”

“Fuck yes.”

Katniss laid back against her pillows. She didn’t want to wait till Monday to see him.

So, she told him her address.

FIN.

[airportb]

Wanna Bet?

Pairing: Adult Pro Hero!Bakugou x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Wordcount: 4.3k

Tags/Warnings: smut, sex, explicit content, size kink, Daddy kink, one night stand, choking, oral sex (female receiving), minor crying kink if you squint, praise kink

Summary: Y/N is at a party at her friend Mina’s apartment when Bakugou shows up. Liking what he sees, he takes Y/N home with him for a night of fun. 

Author note: I hope you like this little musing of Bakugou! The art above was a commission from @uwuharleigh who also did my profile pic ❤️

Y/N was leaning against the wall, looking over the crowd of heroes that were crammed in the medium-sized apartment. Her friend, Mina, always invited way too many people over when she threw a party. Y/N was pretending to pay attention to some random guy that was telling her a boring story. He had been hitting on her for 15 minutes and was getting nowhere, but he was persistent. At first he seemed cute, dark blue hair, glasses covering bright blue eyes. Hot but in a nerdy sort of way. Then he had started talking and it was all she could do to pay attention as he prattled on about the state of Hero agencies and police interactions. She took a sip of her drink, nodding in agreement with something she didn’t hear when she noticed someone enter the apartment. 

He had blonde hair, spiky and unruly. His shoulders were broad and his arms were strong. He was wearing a white shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing large pecs that Y/N found herself aching to leave marks on. Tight jeans hugged his thighs and ass in all the right ways. He looked like a god, the sex appeal radiating off of him. Y/N almost choked on her drink when he looked over the room and his red eyes stopped and landed on her. He took a sip of his beer, staring deep into her eyes and smirked. Y/N felt the heat rush to her cheeks and an awkward smile broke out on her face. Her eyes flickered down to his lips as he pulled the beer away and she saw him run his tongue slowly over them, licking off the drink left on his lips. Holy fuck, Y/N thought as she turned her attention back to the guy that was still rambling. She started wracking her brain for a way to get away from the man in front of her and get under the man of her dreams across the room. 

“Y/N!” She heard someone call, letting out a relieved sigh when she noticed Mina coming over. “Come on, I need to talk to you,” Mina said, grabbing Y/N’s arm and dragging her to the kitchen.

“God, thank you for that, that was the most boring conversation I’ve ever had,” Y/N chuckled, grabbing another beer from the fridge. “Everything okay?” Mina looked around and pulled her in close so she could whisper in Y/N’s ear.

“Katsuki fucking Bakugou was totally checking you out,” Mina grinned conspiratorily. 

“Who?” Y/N asked cluelessly, an involuntary smile appearing on her face. So he has a name. That’s a start. 

“Girl, the guy that just arrived. Average height, blonde hair, red eyes? We were friends at UA. I’m surprised he showed up tonight, he usually ignores my party invitations,” Mina rolled her eyes before they widened as she noticed someone behind Y/N, quickly shushing her. Y/N furrowed her brow and looked over her shoulder to see Bakugou had walked into the kitchen and was standing by the counter, talking to some girl. 

The girl was standing very close to him, touching his arm and laughing at something he’d said. He felt eyes watching him and his red eyes immediately connected with Y/N’s again as one corner of his mouth curled up. There’s that damned smirk again. Y/N swallowed and had to force herself to break the eye contact and turn her attention back to her friend, who had a knowing grin on her face. Y/N shot her a threatening look and rolled her eyes before making her way back to the living room.

Y/N spent some time talking with a few of her friends, trying to distract herself from the man on the other side of the room, well aware of his gaze fixed on her. When she finished her beer, she headed back to the kitchen to get another one. As she popped the top on another bottle, she sensed someone approaching her. She looked up and was met with piercing red eyes. Fuck. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” he asked with a smug grin, licking his lips. His voice made her shiver and she felt the familiar heat rush to her cheeks as butterflies made their way somewhere that was not her stomach. Refusing to allow herself to appear weak in front of him, she swallowed and smiled back. 

“Mina’s my best friend, it’s kind of my duty to be here,” she responded, taking a sip of the cold beer and turning to face him. “What about you?”

“My best friend is trying to hook up with yours and dragged me here with him,” he snickered, taking a step closer. Y/N laughed and even though she tried, she couldn’t look away from him. 

They started with basic small talk and soon were talking about deeper subjects, alcohol providing the perfect social lubrication for unfiltered conversation. Bakugou was surprisingly nice. Y/N had expected him to be kind of an asshole based on what she’d heard about him but she hadn’t been this interested in talking to anyone else the whole night. After Y/N managed to catch her breath from laughing at a joke he told, she noticed how close to each other they were as they leaned against the kitchen counter. His hand was slightly brushing against hers and his head was lowered as he looked down at her, leaning in to her as he hung on her words. Bakugou’s eyes examined her face and she felt her heart beat faster as they landed on her lips.

“Wanna get out of here?” he murmured, licking his lips as she nodded. 

The taxi drive to Bakugou’s apartment was pure torture. His hand was on her thigh the whole ride, slowly trailing his way closer to the apex between her thighs. Awfully aware that the taxi driver had looked several times in the mirror when she unintentionally let out a whimper, she bit her lip, shooting him a pleading look. That only made him tease her more, his smirk growing. She decided to do her own teasing, moving her hand to his lap and palming him through his jeans. She leaned up and whispered into his ear that she was on birth control and clean and gave him advanced permission to do whatever he wanted once they got to his place. When she kissed just below his ear and whispered, “My safeword is red,” he groaned, pulling her in for a long kiss. When they finally pulled up outside his building, he hurried up the stairs to his apartment, Y/N following impatiently behind.

She was barely through the door when she was suddenly pinned against the wall in a kabedon, Bakugou’s red eyes darkened with lust and staring at her. He leaned closer to her face and gently bit her lower lip between his teeth and pulled back slightly. When Y/N tried to meet his lips, he pulled away with a mischievous smirk and moved to her neck. Y/N’s hands traveled up his arms with the intent of burying her hands in his blonde hair, but he grabbed them and held her wrists over her head in one of his larger hands, not letting her move. Y/N let out a frustrated groan that quickly turned into a whimper as his lips found her neck again.

He started planting soft kisses on her skin that were soon replaced by his tongue. He gently tugged on her neck with his teeth, sucking roughly, leaving mark after mark. Marking her properly. His hand let go of hers and slowly travelled down her to her breast, squeezing it roughly. He moved his lips to her ear, tugging gently on her earlobe with his teeth and grunting softly in her ear when she let out a muffled moan. Y/N felt the wetness forming between her legs as his free hand trailed down her stomach to her waistband, teasingly sliding his fingers under the fabric of her jeans. Popping open the button on them, he maneuvered his hand into her panties and started circling her clit slowly. She gasped at the sudden touch, the ache between her thighs was almost unbearable before he started to give her the friction she so desperately needed. He grinned and bit her neck once more before moving his face so they were an inch away from each other.

“Now, are you gonna be a good girl and do what daddy says?” he licked his lips, his voice low and rough from lust. Y/N’s breath hitched at his words and she raised her brow at him defiantly.

“That’s funny, you’re not my daddy,” she managed to say before his hand left her clit and pulled out of her pants. She groaned at the loss of contact, frictionless once again as his leg between hers kept her from clenching her own thighs together and seeking some relief. 

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, baby girl,” he licked his lips and smirked. Letting go of her, he took a step back and started walking towards the bedroom. Y/N paused, catching her breath, before following after him. Stopping at the door frame, his hands grabbed her waist and pulled her in close, pressing his hard length against her as he kissed her breathless. “Lay down,” he ordered before letting go of her. Y/N felt a sudden confidence take over her as she moved toward his bed. Before laying down, she stared into his lust filled eyes and seductively removed her shirt, revealing a black lace bra that left little to the imagination. She shimmied out of her jeans, shaking her ass and revealing to Bakugou the matching black lace cheekies. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her appreciatively, biting his lower lip a little harder than necessary as his cock twitched in his jeans. She climbed onto the bed, settling herself against his pillows, staring him down and trying to take back some of the control of the night as she crooked a finger at him in invitation. She spread her knees, giving him an eyeful of lace covered flesh, trying once again to entice him to the bed. 

“Come over here,” Y/N groaned impatiently when he didn’t move, desperately wanting to feel his skin against hers. 

“It’s cute that you think you can tell me what to do,” he laughed darkly, slowly walking up to the bed. She leaned up off the pillows to try and greet him in a kiss, but he gently pushed her back down with one hand in the middle of her chest. He climbed on top and hovered over her, nipping at her jaw as his hand moved down and settled on her hip. His mouth moved down her neck and to her chest, biting her nipple through the thin fabric, causing Y/N to moan loudly. His hands gripped her hips as he slowly made his way down her stomach, placing teasing kisses over the exposed flesh. He slowly lowered himself down between her legs, spreading them apart with his strong hands as he smiled wolfishly at the damp lace. 

He grabbed her ass roughly and started biting and kissing his way up her thigh. When his mouth reached the fabric of her underwear, he slowly licked the edges, causing Y/N to shiver. He moved his lips around her clit, and teasingly flicked his tongue over the fabric, her breathing becoming more shallow and quick as he teased. He raised his head and looked up to her, studying her reaction.

“Tell me what you want, teddy bear,” he murmured, planting another kiss against her inner thigh and then flicking his tongue next to her cloth covered clit again before looking back up. Y/N was at a loss for words, and just looked down at him baffled. When he got no response, he used a finger to trail circles around her clit, never touching the one spot she needed him to. He grinned as he heard a loud gasp escape Y/N’s lips as he almost touched it for the third time.

He raised his head once again, his eyes a glowing red. “Tell me, what do you want?” he asked again, impatiently.

“I- I want you to touch me,” Y/N managed to breathe out.

He trailed one of his hands from her thigh, up her side and to her breast, squeezing just a bit before continuing his exploration. “Is this what you wanted Teddy bear? My hands roaming your body? If you want something else, you’ll have to be more, explicit, in your instructions. Or else I may misunderstand what you want.” The devious smile on his face should have been illegal. She tried to hold out, tried her hardest not to give in to his instructions and demands. She never just obeyed the men she was with, she liked having control too much. But, she was no match for this man and as he began tracing a single finger on her stomach, spelling out his name on her skin, she lost it and finally gave him what he wanted.

“I- I want you to touch me,” Y/N repeated, still gasping for breath and practically begging for relief. “Use your mou-mouth and your fi-fingers. On my cl-clit. Please. For the love of god please just touch me.” Her voice strengthened at the end as she gained some semblance of composure. 

He grinned before ripping the panties in half and shoving one, then two, fingers inside her, latching his mouth around her clit, his tongue viciously circling around it before sucking on it. Y/N moaned loudly at the sudden pleasure flowing through her body. His fingers hit all the right spots and his tongue worked her clit in a way she had never experienced before with any of her other lovers. She fisted one hand around his sheets and the other hand in his hair. After all the teasing he had put her through, it didn’t take long for her walls to start clenching around his fingers. He started pumping into her faster, curling his fingers to drive her over the edge, smirking against her clit and applying pressure with his tongue as she arched her back, screaming his name.

“There’s my good girl,” Bakugou smirked as he climbed on top of her again. Y/N managed to catch her breath and moved her hand to the back of his neck, trying to pull him in to meet her lips. He resisted, hovering above her, a devilish smile on his face as he refused to let her take the lead on anything. “Oh teddy bear, you gotta ask nicely.”

“Please,” she whimpered, desperate to feel his lips against hers.

“I think you can do better than that,” he said, daringly, stroking his fingers over her chest and brushing against her nipple, watching as it perked up beneath the lace and hardened under his attention. “You know what I want.”

“Kiss me, please,” she pleaded. She knew what he wanted her to say, but she didn’t want to give in. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was willing to do whatever he said. She pouted at him, hoping he would give in to her but knowing better. However, as the seconds dragged on and still not getting what she wanted, Y/N finally let out a frustrated groan. “Daddy,” she finally gave in and called him what he wanted. He growled at her words, his eyes shining with lust.

He crushed his lips against hers, immediately pushing his tongue inside her mouth. His kiss was aggressive, teeth and tongues mashed together as though they couldn’t get enough. She moaned and moved her hands to his belt, undoing it impatiently. He removed her hands, forcing them over her head and hissed, “Patience, teddy bear.” He sat back on his knees, straddling her stomach, and slowly started undoing his belt. He unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time the way she had and teasingly took it off. Y/N admired the muscles of his abdomen, her mouth watering and wanting nothing more than to trace the contours with her tongue. He moved off her and stood, quickly removing his jeans and his boxers. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of his hard length finally springing free. He was bigger than any guy she’d hooked up with before. He looked down at her arrogantly, knowing the length resting against his stomach was something to be proud of. He gripped his shaft in his hand, rubbing over the tip and spreading the pre-cum over the head. He gave his cock a couple strokes, staring directly into her eyes as jerked it. 

Climbing back on the bed, he lowered himself down on top of her and she felt his cock brushing against her folds. Her hands wrapped around his neck and tugged at his hair, eager to feel him inside her. He leaned down into her for another kiss, reaching beneath her to undo and pull off her bra, the last piece of clothing separating them from one another. He groaned into her mouth as he felt her hard nipples brushing against his chest. Moving a hand from her jaw to her breast, he rolled one of her nipples between his fingers and smiled as she gasped against his lips. He continued his assault on her lips and breasts for several minutes, grinding his cock against her and coating it with the wetness leaking out of her.

“Tell me what you want teddy bear,” he whispered against her ear, tongue slipping out to lick the shell of her ear before nipping at it. “Tell Daddy what you want.”

Nearly out of her mind with lust, she wasted no time in responding this time. “I want you to fuck me, Daddy. No, I need you to fuck me. Please. I need it so bad. Shove your cock into me and fuck me until I don’t remember my name.” 

He pulled back from her ear and placed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. He spread her legs apart with his hands and pushed her knees up to her chest so he had a clear view of her dripping pussy. He guided the tip of his cock inside before thrusting his whole length in, her earlier orgasm and his saliva providing plenty of lubrication. Shocked at taking him all at once, Y/N let out a scream of pleasure and a little bit of pain. It was nothing she couldn’t handle and it certainly felt good to be so full. Tears pricked at her eyes as she stretched around him and she shut them tight, trying to keep them from falling. He waited just a minute for her to adapt, slowly stroking her cheek affectionately. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he whispered, looking into her eyes as he waited for her to be ready. He knew he should’ve eased in a little more but goddam was he impatient. “Such a good baby girl taking this whole cock all at once. God, baby, it’s like you were made to take me. This pussy was made for me. You were made for me. I know you can’t talk right now but nod when you’re ready for more. I’m going to make you feel so good my little firecracker. I’m going to take you so high, you’ll never come down. Let Daddy make you feel good baby.” She finally nodded her head at him, giving him the go ahead to move. 

“Such a good girl,” he groaned as he started thrusting in and out. He started off slow, pulling out and back in at an agonizing pace for both of them. They both moaned loudly each time he pushed back in, all the way to the hilt. She really did take him so well. The intimate position they were in allowed him to see her face clearly every time he thrusted into her. He watched as her breasts bounced just the slightest bit with the force from his thrusts and he continued pressing her knees to her chest as her nails dug into his arms. Her eyes fluttered shut as he reentered her body and she left out the softest little gasp. When he thrusted harder and deeper into her, her gasps turned into long, loud moans and breathless whimpers as she scratched her nails down his arms. 

Tired of the slow pace, he started to speed up. He released her knees and her legs fell to either side of her. He moved up one hand and wrapped it around Y/N’s neck and squeezed gently at the sides, cutting off the oxygen supply for a few seconds and making her head cloudy with lust and the lack of oxygen. His thrusts became rougher, pulling out and slamming back in. Y/N couldn’t think clearly, the pleasure consuming her completely. Tears fell down her face from the mix of pleasure and pain and Bakugou was secretly pleased at the way the mascara ran down her cheeks, that he could make her feel so good. He leaned down, kissing her as he continued impaling her at shocking speed. She dug her nails into the skin of his shoulder and moaned loudly against his lips as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of her. He moved the hand from her neck to her hair, lacing his fingers through it and giving a soft tug as he exposed her neck to him. He bit her neck, leaving yet another mark against her skin, thrusting into her even faster. She had no idea how much time had passed when he suddenly pulled out of her and moved away until he wasn’t touching her. She cried out in anguish at the complete loss of him against her, needing to feel him against her. Seconds later, when his lips made their way back down between her legs, she cried out again, this time at the pleasure. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his teeth scraping carefully across the bundle of nerves. Pushing three fingers back into her, he stimulated her clit with his tongue, pushing her closer to the edge. 

When he felt her walls start clenching around his fingers, he moved back up her body, making sure she wouldn’t cum before he thrust his cock back into her. Tears were falling freely from her eyes, the need to feel her release overwhelming. He reached down and grabbed one of her knees, pulling her leg up and around his waist. She moved her other leg to wrap around his waist of her own accord. He could hit new spots inside of her at this angle and it felt good for both of them. She felt his shoves becoming sloppier as he stuck two fingers in her mouth. She sucked on them hard, stifling her noises. He made sure to get his fingers good and wet before removing them to circle around her clit as he continued his rough, fast thrusts. He kissed her harshly, bruising their lips against one another. 

“Cum for me, baby,” he grunted against her lips, letting out a moan as he felt her walls tightening around him. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy.” He sank down into her, feeling his balls slap against her ass as he bottomed out over and over. Another hard circle pressed to her clit and she was there. 

“Yes, daddy,” she whimpered as she experienced the greatest pleasure, gripping his back, nails scratching hard enough to leave marks, and crying out his name. She saw nothing but white behind her eyes as her eyes shut out everything and she felt only the pleasure he had provided. He watched her as she came, enamored with the creature beneath him. Eyes shut tight, face screwed up in pleasure, his name repeatedly whimpered out, tears and mascara running down her cheeks. She was a whimpering, moaning mess as he continued thrusting into her and rubbing her clit, helping her ride out her orgasm, prolonging it as long as he could. 

Her words and the spasming of her tight, wet heat around him sent him over the edge quickly after her. He came inside her, letting out a loud moan of his own, his thrusts as deep as he could get. Her eyes opened as her orgasm subsided and she watched him ride out his own climax. He lazily thrust into her a few more times, grunting with each one, as she clenched around him, taking all she could get from his cock. He stilled finally, removed himself from her, and rolled off of her to lie next to her, catching his breath. 

“God damn teddy bear, you’re fucking amazing,” he groaned lowly, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her onto his chest. Y/N turned her head up to look up at him and noticed the smug smile on his face as she leaned up to place a kiss to his jaw.

“What?” she giggled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingers. 

“I knew I could get you to call me daddy,” he teased, tapping a finger to her nose. She scrunched her nose and laughed at him.

“Well, I’m glad you liked it, because I’m never saying it again,” she snarked at him, making him laugh heartily. He flipped her off of him and pinned her back down on the mattress, his cock, already half hard again (a convenient side effect of his quirk), pressed firmly against her midsection. 

“Wanna bet?” 

© all content belongs to anxiousbabybird, 2020. do not modify or repost.

[morimallow]

Hi hiiii. This is my first time requesting but... would you mind writing Kita's NSFW Alphabet? MY MAN DESERVES THE HYPE ;) Thank youuuu <3

I didn't proof read this so feel free to correct any of my mistakes.

I'm so sorry I didn't make this GN, it's so hard to go into detail. 😥

NSFW Alphabet (Kita Shinsuke)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. This guy won't leave you unattended. He'll draw a nice warm bath for you. If he's feeling it, he'd take a bath with you. Gives you a body massage, which usually leads to another set of rounds, when he was extra rough that day. Will whisper that you did good taking him in, you won't even know if he's praising you or teasing you. Every thing he does for aftercare just makes you wanna have sex with him all over again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms and back because that's where you usually hook on for support which also means he likes you marking him. He wouldn't even care if someone saw your scratch marks, he's low-key showing you off. He likes the way you grip on him like he's your only source of strength. He doesn't have a favorite part of your body though because that's all you. It's all his, you're all his. Why would he want a favorite? He loves every inch of your body and makes sure they receive equal attention.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This guy wears condoms. Cleanliness. To avoid unwanted pregnancy. Cum? Straight to the condom. Sometimes when he's close, he'd pull out his dick, remove the condom and cum on you while his fingers do wonders to your hole. He does it raw with you sometimes ─ either you insisted on doing it and after asking if you’re sure many times, he’d comply or if he’s extra horny and he’s sure you’re on a safe day and on your pills.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

His left ear is extra sensitive and he likes it when you nibble on it and suck on the area behind it. He doesn't know you've figured it out, he just thinks it's your favorite spot to suck on.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

At first, since he solely relied on knowledge on paper and sites, he tested those out and it came out bad. He used to read sex articles and stuff found on the internet. He’s intelligent enough to know vaginas don’t smell like roses and taste like sweet candy as they described them to be. He then started to listen to the twins’ conversations and eventually got caught up in those said conversations. You won’t change my mind that they exchange sex tips and tricks. Kita came to be their master or something. His dick kind of makes up for his lack of techniques and such during sex but still! He pleasures you. He does his absolute best to make you feel good. He asks you if you want him to go deeper, if you want him to thrust harder. He'd probably do anything and everything you want him to do as long as you're pleased.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side fuck because he doesn't skip leg day. /j

Yes, side fuck — second to missionary. The side fuck but not really…? God, I hate this, I don’t know what it’s called. Basically, he’s on his side and you’re lying on your back. The first time he did you in this position, he had leg cramps and it was extremely painful but he enjoys this position nevertheless. He likes that you’re so close to his body, that he can see how your hole devours his cock, and of course, your lips are so close to him he can just turn your moans into heavy breaths in his mouth. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He takes everything seriously and, of course, this isn’t an exception. Okay, so, his grannyma tells him someone's always watching but he stopped caring. He doesn't get nervous about things he does regularly, on a daily basis. But y'all don't have sex daily (who does tho?), so he's kinda nervous and giddy (he doesn’t show it). His top priority is to make you feel good always. He’d usually whisper to your ear some lines that go like, “you’re squeezing me so tight, I won’t go anywhere, I’m all yours, baby” without knowing this turns you on so fucking much.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Having black and white pubes would be weird so I'm saying it's black.. and thick. The aesthetic kind of thick (LOL, WHAT?). Okay, he's clean. He doesn't shave it fully but trims it every month because he knows the benefits of keeping your pubes. Neat guy, neat privates.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Kita showers you with compliments and words of assurance but it always comes out as dirty talk? He’d say you’re so good ─ that he wants to come inside you so bad because you’re just begging for him to do so with how you squeeze him so tight. But then again, the way he whispers those three words turns you on more than any other thing he had said. His hands never leave your body. He doesn't seem like the possessive type but he want you to remember his touches.. and only his. He won't grip the sheets or the headboard whenever he pounds into you. He places his hands on your cheeks, neck, your waist. He pulls you close and moans in your mouth as he comes. Always.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Believe me, he doesn’t jack off that often. It’s not because of what his granny says that someone’s always watching him but because he knows you’d come to him and you’d come for him. When you’re far away from each other, he can’t help but miss you and your touch and that’s where his trusty right hand comes into play. He always calls you when he jacks off. If you’re not available, he’d leave a voicemail so just be careful not listening to it in public.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink but reverse? LMAO, is this a thing? He likes it when he praises someone during sex, he likes the mewls coming out of your mouth whenever he calls you a good girl.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He likes to do it on the bed because a.) you’re both comfortable and b.) unlimited sex positions. He likes the way you grip on the bedsheets, the way your heels dig onto the mattress, how he can feel your warmth everywhere. The bathroom is another thing. He likes the coldness of it and the only source of heat is each other’s body, he likes the way you make lewd faces when he fucks you in front of the bathroom mirror, when he eats you out while sitting on the toilet and how intimate you get under the running water.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets harder even more that it hurts not to come inside your cunt when you try your best to not let out moans because his granny might hear you next door so he asks you if you if he can and you’d nod your head frantically because the way his cock throbs inside you as he comes makes you think that your hole was made for him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He kind of likes spanking you but caning is just a no-go.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Did you expect this? He prefers giving. I mean, come on, he solely relied on porn clips which are far from real sex and his performance was just a little below average before so he likes to think that giving the best oral to his current partner is an apology to what his previous partner/s had/have suffered but this doesn’t mean he thinks of someone else during sex. It’s just that… Fuck it, that’s it. He prefers giving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This depends on the mood and occasion. I mean, I personally think people have the other side hidden in their deepest desires, they just didn’t find the person to be with yet but in you and Kita’s case, you communicate very well. You want him to go hard and fast? He’d say okay. You want to be slow and sensual? He’d start off with a sweet and passionate kiss.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He thinks it’s convenient and risky but hot. You guys don’t do this often though because what’s worse than getting horny in public and Kita locking you in a cubicle to calm yourself down because he suspected this would just be a wholesome date? But you have sex every once in a while, in their backyard garden and that was wonderful.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t usually ride with you whenever you suggest something in the sexual aspect because he sticks to what he knows and he only believes that certain things are possible when a witness or trusted articles support the claims. You’d think he just doesn’t want to do things with you but he’s actually considering your likes and dislikes. He, for sure, knows what you’d like and dislike because he closely keeps an eye on you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for two to four rounds in average. How long it lasts usually depends on you because he knows he can handle himself well, thrusting into you nonstop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t like toys and doesn’t understand why it doesn’t make him feel things like how they described it to be in the articles he had read before when you guys tried toys but you insisted in giving him a cock ring just in case he wants to wait for you to call back when he masturbates.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kita usually doesn’t tease you although he’s already kind of teasing you when he compliments you during sex but he does once in a while. He’d delay your orgasm as much as he can control himself not to ram into you faster and harder when he knows your horniness is out of the meter and whenever he senses you want some kind of teasing. How he knows when you’re like that? He says that’s his sixth sense.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Kita Shinsuke never fails to let out a loud moan when he comes, it’s literally the best thing you heard from him. It’s hot and deep just like how his dick is inside you. If he was going rough, you’d probably hear more of those moans, every spurt of cum from his dick makes him emit more of his beautiful sound.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He sleeps naked. Send tweet.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His dick is so pink and pretty ─ the best shades of nude and rose, I’m not even kidding. He takes care of his body so much and you both take care of his dick. A six-inch dick is good enough, no? his biceps are everything, arms so strong he can fuck you standing for a long time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is on the average level. He’d have sex with you if you want to, you’d have sex with him if he wants to because somehow, your desires always match so it’s like your minds are saying you want to have sex… at the same time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As the king of aftercare, he only sleeps when you're taken care of already, when you're neatly tucked against him. Letting his lips curve into a smile, he can only then go to sleep.

M. List

[slightlymore]

Pride | Part 1

Pairing: CollegeStudent!Doyoung (main), Y/N, CollegeStudent!Johnny (not really a love triangle but you’ll understand better as you read lol) Genre: Series | Smut | Angst | Crack | Prob fluff if you wear magnifying glasses Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, throwing up (not graphic tho) Words: 4.5K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 THE END

"You think he's cute," smiled Johnny, knowingly. 

You looked at him as if he had just said something terrible. The corridor you were walking through was filled with people, either crying, laughing hysterically or high.

It was finals week. 

You sighed. "He is objectively good looking," you replied while doing your best shrug. Johnny rolled his eyes. "You can say it if you like someone, Y/N. It doesn't mean that you're going to date him or marry him just because you admit that you have a crush.”

He has been saying that for the past two years during which you refused to like someone. Johnny couldn’t understand why you didn’t want to go out with anyone. He thought that maybe you liked girls and spent a full 15 minutes soliloquizing about how it was okay to be attracted to the same gender. He then spent another 15 minutes talking about how it is possible to not be attracted to anyone at all and you had to reassure him that you were actually straight and you did have crushes before. It was just because you didn’t like anyone and he just had to leave you alone. 

Because you liked him. But you didn’t tell him this part. 

"Well, I don't have any crush to admit to," you replied to him while entering the exam room and sitting down. 

You were talking about this guy Johnny brought along for your last study session before hell started. He was studying some sort of engineering. The dude explained it but honestly, you weren't that interested and didn't listen.  You didn't talk much that day, everyone concentrated on their own work, so you actually didn't have any opinion on him. How can one develop a crush on someone just like that? But Johnny was sure about it. 

"I just think you would make a good couple," Johnny commented, sitting behind you. You ignored him with a huff. 

It was not only later that week, during the university party celebrating the end of the semester that you had the opportunity to talk to this Doyoung guy. 

It wasn’t necessarily natural but not awkward either. It was just chaotic. A whole disaster. 

For a split second, as your gaze drifted down, trained on the way your beer spilt on Doyoung’s white shirt, you thought that maybe it could be the start of a cute romantic story like the movies portrayed. Maybe Johnny was right. He would never date you, you knew that. It took you a long time to come to term with that, but you were ready. It was time to get a new crush and he was the right choice. But then you saw the dude’s eyes widening and darkening with rage and you knew that it wasn’t the case at all. 

“Just fuck off,” he replied as you tailed him to the bathroom, mumbling something along the lines of “oh my god, I'm so sorry”.  You weren’t that sorry. Actually, to be completely honest, seeing Doyoung’s mouth open as if in slow motion was pretty funny, but you weren’t that mean as to just leave him deal with that alone. “I know where the stuff is in this house. Johnny is my best friend,” you said to him with your arms crossed on your chest, standing in the frame of the door, as to explain why you were standing there minding his business. Doyoung washed his hands before swearing something under his breath, and just taking his t-shirt off completely, pulling it by the collar. His glasses got crooked in the movement and his hair got all messed up. “Yeah, as if I need help to find the soap,” he commented with a killing glare, fingers already squeezing the product and lathering it up. 

You closed your mouth and just stared at his naked torso without being able to say a word. He was just average, an average guy getting his top off, just like other guys were probably doing at that moment downstairs and just like other guys you’ve seen before. But for some reason, you didn’t expect Doyoung to do it. Not like that and not at that moment. You blinked a few times, rather awkward and unsure of what to do next. 

He didn’t need any help. You were just a creep watching a guy washing up. So with a single movement, you turned around and walked to Johnny’s room, hoping he wouldn’t get mad if you lent one of his shirts to the Doyoung guy. 

The room’s door was closed and you opened it fast as if it was your own house and walked over the closet without thinking. “Y/N!” you heard a thundering voice. You turned around in shock. Johnny was on the bed, not alone and doing something with someone which definitely required the closed door. 

You felt your cheeks burning. 

“Fuck,” you gasped. “No, wait, what? I meant, God, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled putting your hands to your eyes but still watching through your fingers. 

“What do you want?” he asked. “Just leave.”

He wasn’t that mad but looked fairly irritated. 

 “I need one of your shirts,” you mumbled indicating to the closet. Your voice sounded very feeble even to your ears. 

“Hey, do you think I can borrow- whoa!” Doyoung barged in but suddenly stopped as if meeting a glass wall, eyes darting around from you to the bed and back to you. He was still topless but he was the less naked in that room anyway. “Guys, what the fuck. Just go away” Johnny whined, exasperated. The girl underneath him laughed. “I’m just going to take-,” you started, opening the closet and throwing the first thing you found to Doyoung’s face before closing it loudly and, grabbing the naked and shocked boy by the forearm, you walked out in a hurry. “Oh, no, babe, you got all soft,” you heard the girl say as you closed the door behind you. 

_____

You were a little panting. That was so embarrassing. 

And it was all Doyoung’s fault. 

“Okay but what the fuck is this?” you heard him laugh as he was putting on a floral shirt. “Just wear it and shut up,” you replied making him laugh even more. 

After he buttoned it all up he looked at you as if about to ask your opinion but closed his mouth upon noticing your gaze.

“It’s fine. There’s no need to feel so mortified,” he tried to reassure you. 

It was kind considering how he wanted to kill you just a few minutes before that. 

You shook your head. 

“I am fine,” you replied walking away. “You look very mad though.” Now he was the one tailing you. 

“Leave me alone” you commented, waving your hand in his direction as if getting rid of flies. 

You had to get away somewhere quiet and be alone for a second. You descended the stairs and eyed the backyard. It was cold outside and no one, besides people smoking, wanted to adventure there. 

You opened the glass doors and made your way to the swing. It was a very pretty one, those big swings that could fit almost three people. You and Johnny would sit there at dawn and watch the colours of the sky. 

As you got near to it, you almost couldn’t see anymore because of the tears that veiled your eyes. “Fucking-.” you mumbled wiping your face with your forearm. 

It made you so angry. You were so sure you were over him. What was going on? Johnny wasn’t dating anyone but he would hook up with different people, it wasn’t a secret and you knew. But the fact that he was always beside you, instead of some other girl, gave you hope. Seeing it with your own eyes was a cruel reality check. 

You weren’t over him at all. 

Still sobbing in your hands, you jolted and raised your head when you suddenly felt the swing move. Doyoung was sitting beside you looking at the noisy house. Without saying anything he handed you a water bottle. 

You looked at his hand for a few seconds, almost confused, then accepted it. The boy then sighed and took a sip out of his beer. 

You expected him to ask questions or to try and cheer you up. But he just stayed there, not saying anything and you had nothing to do besides copying him. 

After a few other sniffles and last cheek swipes, you realized just how cold outside actually was. 

“Let’s go inside, you’ll catch a cold,” you told him with hoarse voice while standing up and straightening your pants. 

“So what? Would you be sorry?” he replied getting up as well. 

You scoffed. “I would feel in debt with you. I already marinated you like a piece of barbecue with that beer before. I don’t need any other stuff to feel guilty about.”

“You got me a shirt. Not the coolest one, I’ll admit, but still a shirt. You don’t need to feel sorry for marinating me.”

“I didn’t say I was sorry,” you explained walking towards the warmth of the house. With the corner of your eye, you saw Doyoung smiling. 

Making your way through the crowd. you suddenly didn’t know what to do and you couldn’t remember what were you doing before that. 

Having fun? Dancing? 

You thought about it for a second and walked towards the kitchen counters. Doyoung followed you and rested his body weight on his elbows while looking at your movements.  “I don’t need a babysitter,” you poured yourself a whole glass of vodka. Doyoung’s lips tightened in a perplexed smirk, eying the big ass glass. “That’s not how you drink that.”

You ignored him and drank half of it in one go. The boy didn’t say anything but you could tell he was impressed and perhaps slightly worried as well. 

“Where are your friends? Aren’t they waiting for you?” you asked him before finally downing the whole drink and slamming the glass on the counter maybe a little too harshly. 

“I’ll leave when you get to yours first.” “Mine are having sex upstairs. They won’t be here any time soon” you replied.  

Doyoung went silent for a second. 

“Then you’ll have to hang out with me,” he said in the end. 

You looked at his intense eyes. They were judging the hell out of you trying to pour yourself another drink. Then he raised his gaze.  Yours was daring him to stop you. 

He didn’t. He just watched as you got drunk by yourself. 

_____

You couldn’t remember how the party ended. Or if it did at all. Or how come you were floating on the road directed to the apartment you shared with your roommates. 

Laying on your stomach, legs wrapped around something rather solid, you could swear that there was someone’s hair in your mouth. 

“If you puke on me I’m going to sue,” you heard someone’s deep voice very close yet far away. 

Trying to open up your eyes you understood what was going on. 

Doyoung was giving you a piggyback ride. You laughed. 

“I can’t believe it, she thinks this is funny,” he commented under his breath before stopping and adjusting your weight on his back. You jolted at the movement and felt your stomach doing something. 

“I feel like throwing up,” you mumbled. “Fuck you if you do,” he said. 

You laughed again. Everything was so amusing. You couldn’t recall why you were so sad before. 

“I’ll throw up on you,” you warned him with a chuckle. The boy sighed and let your legs down. You tried to stand up but almost fell on the side. 

“For fuck's sake,” he grabbed your arm. You wiggled around for a bit before finally standing straight. 

“I think I’m fine,” you started. “I don’t think I need to-”

But you did need to. And you almost did on his shoes. 

“Shit,” he jolted away,  looking at you disgusted for a moment before giving in and holding your shoulders. 

After you were done, your head magically felt much better as well. You looked up at him then at your bag on his shoulder and laughed. 

“Nice bag.” He rolled his eyes and opening it up he retrieved your water bottle. 

“What time is it?” you asked as you rinsed your mouth. 

Doyoung looked at you with hands on his hips. “Late.” What a mom.  You put a piece of chewing gum in your mouth and got up a little wobbly. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He looked fakely shocked. “Wow, you’re sorry? That’s a first.” 

You smiled. “I can be sorry sometimes.” Then you checked your phone. You secretly hoped that Johnny would call or ask if you got home safely. But there were no missed calls or messages. 

“Johnny is still busy,” Doyoung said, reading your mind. 

You recalled seeing him during the party, through the drunken fog, as he approached you and Doyoung, commenting something around the lines of how great it was to see you two together. You remember smiling while ignoring the girl he had his arm around on. 

Sighing, you let your phone fall in your purse again and just started to walk away. 

“Slow down,” Doyoung ordered linking his arm with yours. 

You scoffed. “I can walk,” you tried to slap his hands away.  Doyoung didn’t budge and gripped your harder. “Yeah, but not straight.”

Then you didn’t say anything else, the only sounds were your breath and your shoes on the asphalt. 

“I’m comfortable with you,” you heard yourself whisper after a while. It was so silent in that neighbourhood that you felt like keeping your voice down. It resulted in a confession. Doyoung laughed unfazed. “I see.” “I mean, the silence is comfortable,” you went on trying to gesticulate but failing. “And you don’t try to talk me out of stuff or give me advice,” you added. 

“I don’t even know you,” he explained. “Also, there’s nothing to say,” he shrugged. 

“Why are you taking care of me?” you asked after another silent moment.  “I have morals.”

You snorted. 

“Do you find me attractive?” you asked again. 

Doyoung sighed as if talking to a toddle. “I don’t know you. I have no opinion.” 

“Yeah, but objectively,” you went on, unable to understand when ending a conversation in the drunken haze. “Like, you’re objectively handsome. Am I objectively beautiful?” you mumbled stopping for a moment, touching his chest then touching yours as if he needed some visual representation of what you were talking about. Your head was still so light that it was difficult to think. You could see that you were embarrassing but the alcohol got rid of all of your inhibitions. 

“Yes,” he replied dryly, dragging you slightly to the side to not make you stumble into a road hole. 

“You don’t mean it.” 

Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Why are you asking me then?” 

“I just want to know if-,” you started but stopped as your voice got stuck into your throat. 

“God, don’t tell me you’re about to- yeah, alright, good, great, amazing. Fucking awesome,” Doyoung sang his irritated mantra as you stopped to sob uncontrollably in the middle of the road. 

“What did I do to deserve this,” he whispered under his breath again as you crouched down. 

“Hey, come on. It’s not like he doesn’t like you because you’re ugly or something,” he said crouching down beside you and trying to look at your face.

“Then he doesn’t like me because-” you stopped to sniffle “-I’m stupid!” you whined loudly. 

Doyoung whined as well but out of frustration. “Just let us arrive home first, alright?” he said trying to lift you up. 

“Let me go!” you whined again pushing his arms away. 

“It was so fun when you were out of it,” he commented when finally succeeding in putting you on his back again. Exhausted and completely drained out, you let him do it and just wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling powerless. 

“I know you’re upset but don’t choke me,” he warned you. 

_____  Doyoung thought he was a strong guy. 

Independent. Someone people could lean on. 

He would joke about his friends falling in love at first sight or cry over a partner that wasn’t even that awesome in the first place. 

He was so sure he wouldn’t have that fate that, when he saw you, it felt like a cold shower turning his world upside down. 

You wouldn’t remember it. It happened some months ago. He was minding his own business in the university main corridor when he heard a cry and raised his eyes. A girl was on the floor, books and pens all spread around her and a big guy was hovering over her. 

“Watch where you go next time,” he was saying. 

Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows ready to intervene. He was pretty sure that the guy had to watch where he put his fucking feet. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” asked a voice. 

“And who the fuck are you?” the guy replied in the same tone. In front of him materialized a girl with hands on her hips and flaming eyes. A guy she was with was helping the fallen girl to stand up. 

“Someone that’s going to whoop your fucking ass if you don’t apologize right now,” you said. The guy laughed. “You heard her, big boy,” Johnny said with a monotone voice.

And that was it. The guy actually apologized. 

Doyoung was impressed. Was it his tone or his gaze? He looked so cool just now that it made Doyoung almost mad. 

“Why do you always butt in?” you asked Johnny with a huff. “I had everything under control,” you puffed your cheeks. 

Johnny laughed. “Of course,” he replied ruffling your hair. You faked being irritated by the gesture but as Johnny turned his back to you, Doyoung could see the way you smiled.

He didn’t want to check up on you but for some reason, you were always under his eyes. Walking to class, having lunch, fighting with Johnny as he smiled at you. He would hear your voice in the crowd and without wanting to he would turn his head as a reflex. He would catch you laugh and it really irritated him that it wasn’t his jokes to make you so amused. 

“Are you in love, Kim?” his friends would joke when he didn’t listen to what they were talking about or when he unfocused his gaze thinking about apparently nothing. Doyoung would snap out of it at their nudges and slap their hands. 

“Stop being ridiculous,” he would say. 

“Then why are you getting so irritated by it? It must be true.” someone would comment.  “Is it that girl over there?” one of them asked, once. 

Doyoung secretly cursed at himself for staring so much. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said, acting as if concentrating on his work. 

“You mean Suh’s girlfriend?”  “Oh, they’re not dating” the first one replied. “He’s on my basketball team. He said they’re just friends. You might have a chance Kim,” he smirked at Doyoung.  

The boy scoffed as a reply and the conversation died there. 

But his heart was feeling more alive than ever. You and Johnny weren’t dating. He could really have a chance. He could date you. He could date you? Doyoung could date? Holy shit.  He could just go there and talk to you and you would smile at him the way you smiled at Johnny, right?

Yeah, right, he would reply to himself sarcastically. As if you would be interested in him in the first place. 

That was all he could think during his insomniac nights when he would indulge in thinking consciously about you. It was the only time in the day when he admitted to himself everything. In the morning he would forget about it and would act as if it never happened.

But then he officially met Johnny. 

He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t hate him but he objectively didn’t have a solid reason to actually despise him either (besides being a blind idiot and not realizing how his best friend was in love with him), so he tried to make an effort to be friendly as he offered his hand for Doyoung to shake. 

It was a small party. Doyoung wasn’t so big on parties but it was the last one before the finals so he thought he could use some fun. 

No.

In reality, he hoped to see you there, but no one should know that, not even his conscious side. 

You weren’t there. He didn’t ask but his friend did and he had to stop himself from punching him on the teeth. Because Johnny picked up on that and looked at Doyoung with a knowing gaze. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” he asked. 

Doyoung took his time to reply and sipped on his drink. “I’m starting to revise tomorrow.”

“Great,” Johnny said hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “Y/N and I are revising as well. Meet us in the library.”

Y/N. 

He never realized that he didn’t know your name until that moment. Doyoung thought about it the whole night and rolled it on his tongue when he finally was able to be alone. 

_____ You barely looked at him. God, it made him feel so upset. 

Doyoung was sitting there, in front of you, watching you scribble away with furrowed eyebrows and when you had to look up, your eyes were on Johnny all the time. 

Doyoung wasn’t sure you even remembered his name. 

He gave in, he admitted to himself that he had a crush on you, he actually did something that involved feelings and now he felt so fucking stupid. 

He was an idiot. 

He felt so embarrassed. Especially as Johnny would look at him with that gaze of his as if being sorry. 

Stop fucking pitying me, he would scream in his mind. 

Doyoung made an effort and didn’t think about you for the whole week afterwards. Or so he liked to lie to himself. He knew he actually didn’t do much to win you over or something, but seeing how he never did anything at all, it felt a lot anyways. Everyone used to say how prideful he was, or cold, or something else that wanted to be an insult but what Doyoung interpreted as a compliment. He was strong. He was independent. He didn’t get stupid crushes. 

_____

This time Doyoung really hoped you wouldn’t be at the party. 

You weren’t there last time so it was natural to think you wouldn’t be present this time either. 

But he was wrong. 

He saw you already as he entered the house and had to close his eyes for a second to catch his breath. It made him so mad. 

He was so fucking mad. 

He hated it. He hated feelings. He hated everything. 

And then you spilt your beer on his shirt. 

He lost it. 

As he was washing himself up and you turned your back in the corridor upstairs he felt guilty to have spoken to you that way. That was your first real conversation and he acted like a fucking douchebag. He followed you. He wanted to let you help him as you offered yourself to. Maybe he could apologize. 

And then he saw your face, mortified and shocked. 

This is not ideal at all, he thought when he saw what made you look like that. 

Not ideal for you, but, he was ashamed to admit, ideal for himself. That was the ideal situation for you to snap out of your unrequited crush on Johnny and maybe, just maybe, look finally at him. 

But then he saw how your soul almost left your body. He saw you going downstairs and almost run into the backyard, not being able to hold yourself up and just crush down in an agonizing cry. And he thought that it wasn’t indeed an ideal situation even for him. Because he hated seeing you like that. Fucking John Suh, I swear-, he cursed at him while following you. Doyoung couldn’t understand how Johnny wasn’t in love with you. People could have different tastes, alright, but it was unfathomable to Doyoung to have you around so often and not wanting to kiss you every second. He wanted to say something. He wanted to help. It was painful to see you in love with someone else but it was even more painful to see you suffering because of it. 

But he couldn’t think of anything nice to say. 

And then you worried about him catching a cold and he felt so touched that he almost wanted to cry himself. 

Yet he acted like a douchebag about it again. 

His hands itched to grab that motherfucking vodka bottle out of your hands but he had no right. And when Johnny came down with his lady he felt like pushing him on the ground and just beat him up.  

It didn’t take a long time for you to pass out on him. Doyoung held you by the shoulders and thought about sitting down with you, but there was no space. He wanted to take you away from that place as soon as possible. But he had no right even this time.

“John,” he called. The boy turned around and looked around before realizing whose voice was that. “Yeah,” he replied. 

“She needs to go home.”

Johnny looked at you for a moment, asleep on Doyoung’s shoulder. 

“Damn, you’re right. I’ll give you the address” he took out his phone. 

“Are you letting me taking home your passed-out best friend? You barely know me,” Doyoung couldn't help but comment. 

Johnny looked up surprised. “I trust you,” he paused. “But I can ask somebody else if you’re not feeling like it.” His gaze was intense. He was warning Doyoung to be careful or he won’t be alive the next day. 

It was enough for Doyoung. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.” _____

You woke up with your head hurting as if you’ve banged it on the walls all night. 

It was the doorbell. It sounded like satan’s laugh and it drove you crazy even if it ringed just once. 

“I’m coming,” you mumbled, walking towards the entrance door barely able to see. 

It was Doyoung. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked confused. Doyoung rolled his eyes at you and walked in without being invited. He made his way to the kitchen where he freed his hands of what he was holding: breakfast and coffee, a small bag from the pharmacy on the other side of the road. 

“Eat then take these pills,” he ordered placing the stuff on your kitchen counters. 

You walked over him even more confused. “How do you know where I live?” 

He looked at you as if you said that the earth was flat. 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” 

You thought about it for a second and the mental exercise made your head feel even worse. You took the coffee and gulped a few times. 

“I remember seeing Johnny’s dong,” you joked trying to make the situation feel lighter. 

Doyoung didn’t laugh and looked at you with a weird gaze. 

“What?” you asked seeing him almost sorry. 

Then you remembered. Crying once, then getting drunk, puking on Doyoung, crying twice, getting carried home, whining about not wanting to go to bed, whining about not wanting Doyoung to go home, whining about wanting to sleep with Johnny instead of him, crying about Johnny thrice, whining when Doyoung wanted to go home again, then falling asleep. 

“Shit,” you sighed as you hid your face in your palms for a moment when the realization hit you like a truck and then looked back at Doyoung. 

He acted as if nothing big happened and you found yourself thankful for his ability to hide feelings. 

You watched his hands as he took out some breakfast sandwiches. Then you watched his back as he opened the fridge and handed you a glass of water. 

“Drink some water first,” he said. And you obeyed. 

“I’m sorry, Doyoung,” you said after you drank it all up. 

“It’s alright,” he said. 

“And thank you” you added. “Really,” you insisted. 

He nodded as if accepting your gratitude. 

Then it got awkward. 

“I’ll go now,” he scratched the back of his head after the moment of silence. “Don’t forget your meds. You’ll feel much better afterwards,” he reminded you as he was already walking to the corridor. 

You didn’t know what to do. 

You owed him a lot and didn’t know how to behave after being seen at your almost worst. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” you said hurriedly as he was almost outside the door. 

He stopped at your words. You got closer. 

“Is there something I can do for you?” you asked. 

Doyoung slowly faced you. 

You looked back at him, expectantly. 

“Let me take you out on a date.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

13 fury and 29 leviathan, Ot4, nsfw, please!

I decided to split these up, so here’s Leviathan, and fury will be a separate fill! Indrid’s design is based on an oarfish, Duck on a grouper, Barclay on a whale shark, and Stern is a black and white snapper.

There are times Joseph wishes he was just a brain floating in seashell, not a mer with a body that needs things like food, sleep, and sex. The migration of the Leviathans is one such time.

Every five years, the larger creatures of the Marianas Trench travel upwards, for reasons that remain mysterious to even the deep sea mers. Five years ago, Joseph was ill. Five years before, his job was such that he was unable to take the few days needed to visit the migration sight and record his findings. Now that his chance has come, he’s not letting anything, be it the possibility of losing a limb if he gets too close to the giants or the sparse fishing near his camp stop him.

And he’s certainly not letting his heat stop him.

 He’s chosen the optimal observation point, so when another mer swims into the view, he prays they won’t chase him off or make noise.

“Oh, apologies, I was not anticipating this timeline.” The merman is angular around the face, his tan body bookended with silver; his moonlight colored hair occasionally falls across glowing, red eyes, and his tail is longer than average, elegantly metallic and fanned with red. He strikes Joseph as formidable, so it’s a good thing that he seems friendly.

The new mer cocks his head, “You’re here to observe the migration.”

“I am. Um, are you?” It could be fun to have a fellow rare creature’s enthusiast to keep him company.

“No. I come here to draw, but I’m happy to share the space with you.”

“Thank you.”

They make small talk, during which the other mer introduces himself as Indrid, a seer for hire, and informs Joseph that the migration will start in the next ten minutes.

While his brain focuses on the task ahead, his heat creeps through his body. It’s not too bad, but he knows it will only get more intense as the day moves one. It’s mostly agitation right now, not the aches and tunnel vision that will come for him over the next three days. He’s not sure if he’s releasing any sort of scent signals, because the last thing he needs while trying to record the leviathans is someone pestering him.

Indrid looks up from his drawing, sets it carefully on a stone and swims a circle around Joseph, “Ah, I was not imagining things. You are giving off heat pheromones. And I thought I was prone to unlucky timing.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.” Joseph grumbles.

“Of course not. I, ah, do not mean to worry you, but there are many futures where your research is interrupted by hopeful suitors.”

“Damn it.”

“If it would help, I could stay close and pretend to be your mate. You, ah, you would not need to actually be such, though I am not opposed to such things once you are done with your day.” His ears flick once, “the point is, my help is not contingent on sex.”

“That…that would be very helpful, thank you.” Indrid seems genuinely eager to help him, which set fondness squirming up his spine.

Indrid retrieves his supplies, curls the end of his tail around the black and white of Joseph’s own, and murmurs, “The first one should appear in under twenty-seconds.”

He’s right on the money, Joseph stifling a gasp of delight as the massive, bone-white body of a Ningen emerges. It’s pace is alarming fast for something so large.

Next is a creature he’s never so much as read of; serpentine and bioluminescent, with light lures fanned out across it’s forehead.

Movement to his left, another mer emerging from the nearby rocks with their eyes on him. Indrid waits a beat, then whips his head around to hiss at the newcomer, frilling his ears out as he does. They turn tail instantly.

“They didn’t even argue.” He’s impressed.

“I have a bit of a, ah, a reputation. It’s unearned, mind you, but sometimes it comes in handy.”

Joseph nods, turns his attention back to the trench just in time to see a Kraken fleeing from a pair of massive sharks.

He continues his observation with no interruptions, Indrid’s presence enough to deter the few mers who come to investigate him. His new acquaintance offers additional benefits; the physical contact soothes his heat to a degree, especially when pretends that this is all a prelude to that lovely tail wrapping around him while Indrid sinks his teeth into his shoulders.

Better still, during a lull in conversation he glances over to find Indrid has captured the leviathans on paper.

“It seemed to me your notes could use illustrations.” He says a moment before Joseph can ask.

“That’s, Indrid those are incredible, you didn’t need to set your own projects aside-“

“This is more fun than drawing the futures. And more rewarding.” He smiles at Joseph’s excitement.

It’s going on hour seven of observation that his body betrays him; his heat seeps into every nerve, his body twitching and squirming in it’s desire to swim off and get off as soon as possible.

“I foresee the migration lasting three more days. If you need to be done for the day, I do not think it will damage your research.”

“I…”

“However” Indrid says casually, “if you want to stay longer but are struggling to, I can always tell you that good mates can last a few hours more.”

“Shit” The part of his tail concealing his dick pulses, “Indrid, how did you know-“

“Foresight.” Indrid taps his temple, grinning wider.

“I, I think I can call it a night.” He repacks his observation kit, Indrid’s tail holding his all the while. Then he whirls, kissing him as the other mer lets out a muffled laugh.

“My, it must have gotten intense.” Indrid strokes his cheek, roving his eyes up and down his body.

“Very. I, I’m sorry, I’m not very good at spontaneity during my heats, so this might be awkward.” He tries to pet Indrid’s tail, only for his wrists to be caught in a strong hold.

“What do you usually do?”

“I, um, I pick out potential partners ahead of time. And if there aren’t any I’m interested in, I just hole up on my own until it’s over. Besides, it’s not just about who I want; what I want can be a bit of a surprise for most mers.”

Indrid leans close, purrs in his ear, “Am I right that you would call yourself, ah, needy pet?”

“Hollllyshit”

“Answer me.” There’s an edge to his lilt.

“Yes, I would, Indrid please-“

“Hush.” The mer begins swimming them towards the houses on the cliffs, “I have just the thing. You need all the attention you can get, more than I can give without passing out, but there is an easy solution.” He turns the conversation away from sex, asking Joseph about his work until they reach the entrance to a home in the rocks, the front of it sporting an impressive garden.

“’Drid, that you?” A voice calls as they swim down the hallway.

“Yes, my love. And I brought a guest.” They round the corner into a large kitchen. Seated at the table is a merman with short, dark hair, and a mottled green and brown fin. He sets the model ship he’s working on into a carved box, then propels himself with obvious, easy strength to capture Indrid in a kiss. It’s only when Indrid nudges him to turn his head that he sees Joseph.

“Oh, uh, name’s Duck, welcome to our place.” He holds out a hand, smile crooked and soft, the evening light falling around the curves of his body in a way that makes it impossible for Joseph to look anywhere else.

“It’s lovely.” He takes Duck’s hand, shaking it as Indrid explains how they met. Duck takes a polite interest in it, adding that he’s done restoration work on the scant plant life near the edge of the trench.

“Now, what I wanna know is if you invited him for the reason I think you did.” Duck sends a pointed look at Josephs tail, where silver and blue are starting to pulse in place of his usual colors.

“Yes. Assuming everyone is amenable to the idea. Speaking of which, where is, ah, nevermind, here he comes.”

“Hey Indrid, should I start dinner? Heard you say something about a guest—oh holy fuck.”

Joseph clamps his hands over his mouth to stifle the excited moan that tries to leap out.

“You two know each other?” Duck looks between them, then smirks, “hold on. Barclay, is this fella mr. tall, dark, and handsome you keep swoonin over?”

“I, uh, I” Barclay seems to be trying to hide behind his grey and black-speckled tail, “I didn’t know this is where you were going. When you said vacation I assumed, like, you’d go somewhere fancy. Not just a few miles out from the city.”

“If the guy behind me hadn’t been in such a rush to get his lunch, I could have told you more.” He swims forward, heat ebbing in the face of discovering where the mer he’s had a crush on for months lives (and that Indrid has managed to secure two of the most attractive mermen in the world as partners).

Before he can reach Barclay, he jerks to a stop. Duck has hold of the end of his tail, though from the sharp-toothed grin this tableau was Indrid’s idea.

“Am I correct” Indrid swims lazy circles around the other three, “that we are all in agreement that the best way for Joseph to manage his heat is for us to take turns helping him relieve the tension?”

“Yep”

“Uh huh.”

“Yes, now for gods sake let’s get to it.” He tries swimming forward, discovers Duck is even stronger than he looks, and lets out a frustrated, horny whine. Duck makes a sympathetic noise, rubbing his tail soothingly. Barclay decides to close the distance himself, only to freeze at Indrid’s voice.

“I believe you said something about dinner, dear one.”

“But-“ Barclay’s brown eyes send a pleading look at between Joseph and Indrid.

“You’ll get your turn, or several if the timelines are correct, but it won’t do for all of us to get caught up in the heat of the moment and forget to eat. Or for Joseph to burn through a great deal of energy and not replenish it. Besides, he clearly likes your cooking. You have a chance to show off.”

Barclay chuckles, “You’re a menace, sir.”

“You love me for it.”

“I do.” Barclay kisses Indrid as he drifts by, gives one more appreciative, longing look at Joseph, and turns back to the counter. Joseph’s back hits the table a split-second later, Indrid’s face and frilled-out ears filling his vision.

“Now, be a good little pet and let me fuck you.” Ink-smudged fingers expertly stroke his scales as his tail curves around him, trapping them together. The pressure of his touch and the sting of his teeth as they graze his collarbone make Joseph buck in his hold.

“IndridpleaseOHshit, shit” a cock slides into him, “that, that was fast.”

“I have been swimming in your desire for hours. It was only because you were so very engrossed in your work that I ohnnnn, I did not ask to do this sooner.” Indrid nibbles his ear, his tail rippling with effort as he fucks deeper, “you just seemed so happy.”

Joseph moans, wrapping his arms around Indrids shoulders, “That’s one of the most considerate things anyone’s done for me in months.”

“You deserve it, pet, just as much as you deserve to be fucked so much you’re too full to swim.”

“No, ahnnfuck, no wonder Barclay looks so content on Monday mornings, if this is how you treat your mates.”

Indrid trills, blushes, and then hides the fact by sinking his teeth into Joseph’s shoulder. The pain lights him up from tail-tip to the top of his head and he buries a kiss in Indrid’s neck. The tendrils of his cock, already wound around Indrid’s shaft, tighten as the other mer kisses along the bite mark.

“That’s it pet, go ahead and cum, you’ve been so patient, held out so long, you’ll feel so much better if you do.”

The fact that it’s the act of receiving permission that tips him over the edge is probably something to bring up with his therapist, but he’s not thinking about that now. Right now, his world is nothing more than blinding pleasure and his body screaming with relief that he’s finally getting off.

Indrid stays still as he rides it out, trilling softly as he kisses his cheeks. He waits until Joseph meets his eyes and nods before he begins rolling his hips, tail coiling and relaxing in time with his efforts.

“There we are, you can take a break pet, lay here and let me-AHhhnn” His measured thrusts morph into sharp jerks. Joseph’s cock perks up as knuckles graze it, and Duck’s chin rests on Indrid’s shoulder.

“Sorry, you know watchin you play all high and mighty turns me on. Especially when you’re fuckin such a handsome piece of tail.” Duck fingers open the lower part of the slit from which Indrid’s cock emerged.

“No complaAAIInts here” Indrid’s movements turn wilder by the moment and he cranes his neck backwards in search of kisses. Joseph would sit up so he and Duck could lavish him with them from both sides, but his muscles aren’t quite up to that yet.

There are two, high trills, one after the other as Duck bites the tip of Indrid’s ear and then the base of his neck. Indrid thrusts as deep as he can, cumming with satisfied chirps and moans as Duck sucks a bruise into his neck.

As Indrid pulls out, he rubs at the scales around Joseph’s cock in a way he’s never seen before, one that makes everything close up the instant his cock is all the way free. He raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It’s courteous to hold onto what a mate gives you” Indrid leans closer, adding, “I also suspect Barclay will enjoy it.”

Indrid helps Joseph sit up, clearly intending to guide him over to service Duck, but Joseph is miles ahead of him, darting out to wrap his arms around his middle and kiss his way from his chest to his belly.

“Y;know, Barclay made it sound like you were real reserved, shy even. Know heats can make folks a little wild, but this seems like a stretch.”

“It’s, it’s not the heat. It’s you. It’s this” He presses another kiss to his belly slides his hands down to grope his upper tail, “you’re, well, let’s just say I think Indrid has incredible taste. Your whole body is divine, Duck” he nips the sensitive band where scales give way to skin, “if someone told me you swam straight out of Poseidon’s Court, I’d believe them.”

“Fuck, are you always like this?” Duck looks at Barclay, who’s holding a spoon so tight it’s cracking.

“Nope.” The cooks voice is creeping higher as he watches Joseph lick and kiss at Duck’s tail.

Duck stills him with a hand in his hair, keeping his eyes on Barclay, “Do you, uh wanna switch? I can keep an eye on whatever you’re makin so you don’t gotta wait longer.”

“No, I, I wanna be good. I can be patient. But, uh, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Alright handsome, you can keep goinnnnfuck, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” Duck cups the back of his head, urging him on. Joseph understands why Indrid wasn’t thrown by his unconventional cock; Duck’s is the same, multiple short, hyper-sensitive tendrils emerging from a slit instead of a shaft.

To his delight Duck is vocal, moaning and groaning as he tells him how well he’s doing, how perfect he looks with a cock in his mouth.

“Oughta, oughta make you suck ‘Drid and Barclay at the same time, be so fuckin hot, think I could cum without even touchin myself ohfuck, yeah, do that again.”

The tendrils tickle when they glide over his tongue, harden when he curls his lips around a few and sucks.

“Enjoying yourself my love?”

“You know it, darling. Fuck, Joe, where the fuck did you learn to suck dick like this?”

He pulls back, winks, “Maybe if you take me out to dinner, I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale.”

“You got a date” Duck dips down to kiss him, then shoves him back into place, grinding his hips harder before cumming with a half-laugh, half-moan. He’s still shaking when he guides Joseph so they’re face to face and kisses him, whispering, “Thanks for that, handsome.”

He doesn’t have time to note that no one’s ever thanked him for blowing them before there’s a thunk of bowls on the nearby table.

“Dinner’s ready.” Barclays cock is visibly throbbing under his scales, but he lets Indrid lead him to a chair, set a bowl next to him, and whisper in his ear with a mischievous grin. The cook nods, and then Indrid is waving Joseph over.

“You really should eat, you barely had any lunch, but Barclay’s been patient. I recommend multitasking.” Indrid pecks their cheeks one after the other, then goes to sit in Duck’s lap.

Joseph lowers himself and rubs their tails together, “Dinner smells delicious.”

“It’s not the only thing.” Barclay rumbles, then shakes his head, “sorry, I’m super-responsive to other mers heats, we, we can just have dinner if you want, you don’t have to-“

“Barclay, you’ve been on my mind for months. I want to.” His tendrils don’t coax so much as demand Barclay’s cock enter him and they moan in tandem as Joseph settles into place.

“Here” Barclay holds up a piece of fresh crab and Joseph eats it from between his fingers. It’s perfect, just like every meal Barclay’s ever made him. He “mmmms” and opens his mouth for another, this time biting Barclays finger before taking it.

“Tall, dark, and handsome, huh?”

The cook blushes, “Yeah. You, gods you’re always so put-together, I’d say this was a dream come true by my brain can only fantasize about you, like, calling me up to your office and sucking you off. Never thought I’d see you heat-crazed and getting fucked by my boyfriend and one of my best friends. Also, it’s so fucking hot” he gives his first sharp thrust up, “to fuck Indrid’s cum back into you.”

“I told you so.” Indrid murmurs from behind them.

Joseph rocks his hips, kissing Barclay’s cheeks and stroking his beard, “Seeing you is the best part of my day; I, um, I even redid my budget so I could come get lunch more often. I almost asked if you wanted to help me with my heat but I, I was worried it’d be overstepping.”

“Nah. Not for my favorite customer.” Barclay kisses his nose.

“Does AHnnnshit,” Barclay’s cock is thick enough to catch all the tendrils, “does this mean I get a discount now?”

“Of course, ten percent off for every blowjob.”

“I’ll be eating for free in no time. Possibly the end, ohfuckyes, of this heat.” He stops, tries to correct, “that’s, um, that’s if you want to see me again after tonight.”

Barclay nuzzles his neck, “I do. Gonna take a wild guess and say those two do too. And in case you think I’m kidding…”

Joseph cums as Barclay bites the opposite shoulder from where Indrid’s mark is still red, the other mer growling as he pumps his hips up into him again and again, refusing to let go until his cum mixes with Indrid’s and Joseph’s shoulder sports a deep purple bruise.

“Holy shit.” Joseph collapses against his chest.

“Better, babe?” Barclay kisses the top of his head.

He looks over his shoulder at where Duck and Indrid are trading increasingly heated kisses.

“Yes, but I’m just getting started…”

Joseph wakes up in an empty bed, his last memory of Duck fucking him while he jacked Indrid and Barclay off, one in each hand.

Maybe they all have work? Maybe they’re hoping he’ll take a hint and leave…

“Mornin Joe” Duck floats in the bedroom doorway, “Barclay asked me to come get you. He’s almost finished packin breakfast up.”

“Oh,for, um, for me to take on the road?”

Duck shakes his head, “for all four of us; ‘Drid showed us drawins from yesterday and we decided we’d like to join you. If, uh, if that’s okay?”

Joseph swims over to take his hand, “it’s perfect.”

[brideofedoras]

Under Covers

This fic was inspired by this photo.  That leg is my current sexuality.

Tagging my urbabes: @below-average-fangirl​ @emily-strange​ @nora-hewlett​ @to-boldly-nope​ @urban-trek-thru-middle-earth​ @pandaqueen7799​ @bakerstreethound​ @portals-to-a-new-world​ @writerdee1701​ @ladyreapermc

Enjoy!

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3200+

Warnings: Smut.

Ember had never been more thankful for dark sunglasses in her life.  And coffee shops that opened at the ass crack of dawn near the sleepy suburbs surrounding the greater DC area.  And six hour car rides to get to their destination.  Hopefully her boss would be kind and not go over the operation parameters for the tenth time since yesterday afternoon and she could catch an hour of sleep.  Without dreams.  Please please please, don’t let me have any repeat dreams that kept me up all night, she prayed fervently. 

The last thing she needed was to have a any more vivid sex dreams about her very hot boss while in the car with him.

It was bad enough she had agreed to go on this assignment with him, posing as a couple at some fancy beach resort in North Carolina and she fit the profile of the type of woman their target frequently sought out.  There were probably sixty agents with more fieldwork under their belts (or at least more qualified) for this kind of op who fit the profile, but Cooper had chosen her.  It was both an honor that he wanted her with him and intimidating as hell because she did not want to let him down.  

Her phone pinged with an alert, drawing her from her exhausted stupor.

I’m outside.

Ember sighed.  Be down in a minute, she texted back.  She slipped her phone in her back pocket, shouldered her purse and grabbed the handle of her suitcase.  She mentally went over her Leaving For Vacation checklist for the hundredth time, just as she always did before leaving for a few days.  Plants watered, lights off, oven off, thermostat set to a reasonable temperature, all small appliances unplugged, windows locked.  Phone charger and keys in purse.  Toiletry bag in suitcase.  Vibrator and extra batteries in suitcase… 

Unfortunately, since they were posing as a couple and would be sharing a one bedroom bungalow, she would have to remove the batteries to make damned sure she wouldn’t embarrass the hell out of herself should she need to relieve any frustrations.

Which there would be plenty.  William Cooper was a walking wet dream.  Tall.  Broad shouldered.  Scowly.  Sexy.  Intelligent.  And deep down underneath that frown she was used to seeing on a daily basis he was a softie.  That rarely seen soft side only fueled her crush on him that much more.  

With a weary sigh Ember set her security alarm and locked the door behind her.

Black Mercedes sedan, Cooper’s next text buzzed through.

Her brow quirked up as she pressed the call button for the elevator.  No Porsche?

Didn’t want to look like a man going through a midlife crisis.  

She bit back a smile.  You’re too young for a midlife crisis.

Ember was not surprised when no response buzzed through.  She stuffed her phone in her pocket once more and stifled a yawn as she made her way out to the parking lot.

She thought nothing of it when Cooper climbed out of the car and made his way to the back.  But once he cleared the trunk she nearly tripped over her feet.

In the short time she had known William Cooper she had never seen him wearing anything other than a suit.  Granted, most of the time the jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up, but suits had quickly become the sexiest thing she’d ever seen on a man (firmly replacing uniforms.  She’d always been a sucker for a man in a military uniform or tactical gear up until the first time she’d seen her boss loosen his tie and roll up his shirt sleeves).  

But she was woefully unprepared to see her hot boss wearing casual clothes.  A blue and white plaid button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, unbuttoned over a light grey tee-shirt and a pair of snug jeans with a hole ripped in the left knee… and a pair of sunglasses hiding those dangerously gorgeous hazel eyes.  And the stubble gracing his jaw.  Oh sweet heavens she was a sucker for unshaven jaws...

She once again thanked her lucky stars for dark sunglasses hiding her eyes.

The trunk latching shut startled her out of her wandering thoughts.  

“Get in the car, Kid.”

Oh.

No.

He.

Didn’t.

Ember bristled at that moniker.  She hated being called kid.  Hated it.  She was twenty-eight years old, barely, what, seven years younger than him.  Her eyes began to burn when she jerked the passenger door open.  Oh, don’t start, she admonished herself.  It’s too damned early and I hardly slept last night.  

“Easy there, tiger,” Cooper commented as he joined her in the car.  “You okay?”

She carefully shut her door, fastened her seatbelt and took a deep breath before she responded.  “Yeah.  Sleepless night,” she pasted on a smile as she turned to face him.

His brow furrowed.  “Worried about the op?”

“You could say that,” she let the smile fall off as she settled back in her seat.  That was partly true, at least.  She was worried about her part, terrified she would blow it. 

“You’ve got the easy job,” he started the car.  “Look pretty, flirt, be coy.”

“You call that easy?”  She glared at him behind her sunglasses, blushing at his look pretty comment.  “I can’t flirt my way out of a paper bag if I tried.”

His dimples flashed when he grinned.  “‘Your tie brings out the gold in your eyes, Boss’ ring a bell?  Or ‘You’ve got a bit of powdered sugar on your cheek’?”

Ember flushed beet red.  “A compliment and a gentle warning before a meeting are hardly flirting!”  She stammered out.

God, she had mentally kicked herself for a MONTH on the powdered sugar incident, brushing it from his cheek with her thumb.

Her palm still tingled from the feel of his afternoon stubble when she had cupped his cheek, as if she had any right touching him in such an intimate manner! 

“You were flirting,” his grin widened as he pulled out onto the street.  “And the plate of extra cookies left over from your Christmas dinner?”

“Figured your kids would like some cookies, and I had more than enough left over,” she shifted in a poor attempt to hide the blush creeping up her chest and neck and wished like hell she had worn something other than a scoop neck tank top.  She was not a pretty blusher when her chest got all splotchy.

“That’s what break rooms are for,” he chuckled.  “Pretty sure Sanderson would ask you to marry him if you bring baked goods in.”

She shuddered.  “Pretty sure he still lives in his parents’ basement.”

“Yeah, he has that personality,” Cooper frowned thoughtfully, slowing for a stoplight.  “Not your type then?”

“Have you ever heard me flirt with him?”

His belly laugh echoed through the car.  “No, no, I haven’t,” he managed to get out when his laughter died down.  “You can give Wilkes a run for her money in the ice queen department when you’re dealing with him.”

“I hope you’re giving me a compliment and not calling me a frigid bitch,” she couldn’t help but smile.  

“She’s the frigid bitch and she wears that badge with pride.  She made Sanderson cry a couple of times.  You’re at least polite.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” she turned her attention back to the window.  “And I don’t flirt.”

“‘You’re too young for a midlife crisis’?”

“Not flirting!”  She shifted until her back was to him.  

“What is it, then?”

“The truth,” her forehead thunked against the passenger window.  “Thirty-five is still young.”  She sighed heavily.  “Age is only a number, what matters is how you feel inside.  Take Grandpa- er, Henry, for example.  He’s eighty-five, still working downstairs, running circles around the younger desk jockeys.”  

“I need to find out what his secret is,” Cooper mused beside her.

“No,” she squeaked out, remembering something she’d overheard her grandpa telling Joe a few years ago when they went to New Orleans to see her godfather.  “You don’t want to do that.”  That particular memory would be forever burned into her brain.

He looked over at her.  “Wait, he really has a secret?  What is it?”

“Nope,” she shook her head.  “It was bad enough overhearing it.  I’m not telling you.”

If she could lobotomize herself to remove that particular memory of hearing her grandfather say his secret to remaining youthful at heart was masturbating every day she’d do it in a heartbeat.

The thought of telling her hot boss was embarrassing.  

But the images popping up in her head of her boss following Henry’s secret to youthful energy?

Ember squirmed a little in her seat.  “H-how long of a drive is it again?”  Her voice cracked.

“Six hours if traffic isn’t bad.”

Six hours in a car with her hot boss.  After a couple of sex dreams and a long, sleepless night with her normally trusty vibrator and her vagina’s stubborn refusal to accept a toy penis to get the job done?  Fuck.

She groaned.  “Straight through, no stops?”

“I’ll make a couple of stops, I’m not a monster,” he chuckled.  “You have breakfast yet?”

She shook her head.  “There’s a coffee shop up ahead.  They have donuts and breakfast sandwiches.”

“Any recommendations?”

“The omelette sandwiches are to die for,” she stifled a yawn behind her hand.  “They come with sausage and cheese.  You’ve already had their donuts.”

He groaned.  “Might have to order a dozen for this weekend.”

“Better make it two dozen,” she shifted in her seat to get more comfortable.  “I’m not crawling out of bed before ten a.m. this weekend.”

“You’ve already claimed the bed, huh?”

A slow, delicious warmth crawled through her veins at the husky, playful tone in her boss’ voice.  “Figured it was a given since I’m a woman and you seem like the kind of guy who would take the couch.”

“Sweetheart, my back can’t take sleeping on couches for even a little catnap anymore,” he flipped on the blinker and turned into the lot for the coffee shop.  

“The bed’s a king, isn’t it?  We could share it,” her eyes fluttered shut behind her sunglasses.  “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

The strangled cough coming from the driver’s seat had her eyes snapping open.

“What?”

“You’re flirting again,” his voice was really husky now.

She frowned at him.  “No, I wasn’t.  My brain loses its filter when I’m running on very little sleep.”

“Always an excuse,” he shook his head as he rolled down the window.  “What kind of coffee?”

“Just ask for the Emberleigh special, they’ll know.”

Twenty minutes later (and some seriously teasing looks from the barista silently telling her that she was going to have to tell him all about the hot guy in the luxury sedan next week) they were on the freeway heading to North Carolina.  Cooper set the cruise and shifted to get comfortable.  

“Should we go over the parameters again?”

Ember swiveled her head around to glare at him, an “Oh, hell no” dying on her lips when she took in the glorious sight before her.

He had his left arm on the door, elbow bent to hook his fingers along the top of the window, left knee bent to showcase some tanned skin and glorious denim-encased thigh.

A very weak, very breathy “no” left her lips instead of the feisty retort.

He cast a quick glance at her before returning his attention to the road and the traffic around them.  “Seat reclines if you want to take a nap,” he told her.  

Sleep was suddenly the furthest thing from her mind.

And learning the seat reclined?

That really didn’t help matters any.  At.  All.

She picked up her caramel macchiato and took a sip.  Her vain attempt to put the brakes on the naughty thoughts forming in her mind just from the way those jeans hugged those thighs and that knee…

Stop it, Emberleigh, she firmly reprimanded herself as she turned back to watch the traffic in front of her.  Count road kill or play the license plate game.  Don’t stare at Cooper’s thighs and wonder what they look like out of those jeans.  Or nipping at them.  Or how thick he gets when he’s… sonofamotherfuckingbitch...

“If you want to turn the radio on, go for it, I listen to just about anything,” his voice broke through her wayward thoughts, teasing her with that husky tone.  “Except for the new crap.”

She blinked.  “Yeah, I can’t listen to that stuff either,” she pulled a face before looking at the dash and the stereo.  “I can Bluetooth my phone if that’s okay?”

“Go for it.”

Of course her playlist would just have to start off with “Rock You Like A Hurricane” by the Scorpions.  

And oh that wicked, wicked grin that slowly spread across William Cooper’s face and his poor attempt to imitate the lead singer’s vocals… of course that would make her squirm.

Both hands were on the steering wheel now, thumbs drumming along to the beat.

The tempo was the perfect rhythm to have sex to.  She mentally whined at the images popping into her head.  

The thought of Cooper timing his thrusts to the beat of the drum and adding a little rocking motion with the drum rolls nearly did her in.  And the fact he was singing off-key only made her that much hotter.

Ember squirmed, pressing her thighs together as she forced her attention on the road ahead of them.  

I’m fucked if he does this the entire drive…

She caught her bottom lip in her teeth to hold back the shuddery whine when her boss put his all into the one man, driver’s seat concert.  By the time Cooper pulled off the freeway at a rest stop she was a mess.

“You okay over there?”

His husky voice broke through her nearly-fevered thoughts.  “Huh?”

“You okay?  You’re whimpering over there,” he shoved his sunglasses up to give her a worried look.  “You get car sick?”

“No,” she shook her head.  

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Yes!

She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head.  “God dammit…”

“Ember, do I need to call someone else in on this?”  Gone was the light-hearted, teasing tone, in its place the no nonsense, cold tone she was used to in the office.  

Ember sucked in a shuddery breath.  “No, sir.  I can do this.”

“You’re about to crawl out of your skin, Ember,” he shifted in his seat to show her she had his full attention.  “What’s wrong?”

“You really don’t want to know,” she cringed when she realized how needy she sounded.

The silence in the car neared a deafening pitch… or was it her heart thundering in her ears… as she waited for his rebuttal.

“Honey, I think I do.”

Honey.

Honey.

That one word, the low, guttural way he practically growled it, had even more heat pooling low in her belly.  

She must have moaned or whispered his name, something to make his hazel eyes darken.  “I… should…  get some air…” she blindly reached for the seat belt.

But instead of reaching for the door she leaned across the console.

Cooper met her halfway.  His hands slid along her jaw to tilt her head before his lips met hers.

Ember let out a strangled moan when his tongue snaked into her mouth and curled around hers, teasing her, torturing her until she shuddered and pulled away for air.  She slowly blinked open her eyes to meet his.  “We… shouldn’t…”

“No, we definitely shouldn’t,” he agreed huskily as he tugged her into another kiss.  “It’s a damned bad idea.”

One minute she was still in her seat kissing her sexy boss.  The next she was straddling his lap with the seat reclined, her cutoffs nowhere to be found.  She pawed at his clothing as he tugged the low neckline of her tank top down to expose her lace-covered breasts.

“We can get naked later when we get to the beach house,” he growled before biting one pearled nipple through the sexy bra she wore.

Ember gasped his name as his hands curved over her ass to grind his hips into hers.  Any attempts to divest him of that magnificent plaid shirt and tee-shirt were quickly forgotten.

His jeans had to go.  Or at least be undone and pushed down so the zipper wouldn’t scratch the shit out of her ladybits.

She curled one hand into his dark hair and shoved her other hand between them as Cooper switched his attention to her other breast.  Holy Jesus she never thought getting her nipples sucked through a bra would be so hot!

“Easy, Tiger,” he groaned when she yanked at his belt.  He dropped his hands from her hips to help her, thrusting his hips up just enough to shove those slightly snug jeans down to mid-thigh.  They both moaned when his erection rubbed against her uncomfortably wet panties.

He hooked his fingers into the crotch of her panties and pulled them aside, earning another shuddering whine from Ember when his knuckles brushed her clit.  He palmed his hard length with his other hand and thrust his hips up.

“Oh… god…” she curled her fingers into his shirt as he grabbed her hips to pull her down.  

“I’m hardly god, Baby,” he half-groaned, half-chuckled as her tight heat sheathed him.  “Fuck… you’re so tight…”

She rolled her hips slowly.  “I don’t think I’m gonna last,” she moaned when Cooper’s hands palmed her ass to guide her.  

“Me either, Sweetheart,” he rocked his hips in time with hers.  

Ember buried her face in Cooper’s neck when the coil low in her belly tightened.  She untangled one hand from his shirt and slipped it between them, her fingers seeking out her clit.  

“That’s it, Baby,” he growled when he felt her knuckles against his lower belly.  His hands tightened into a bruising grip, one she relished, as he thrust up harder and faster.

She quickened the pace of her fingertips on her clit.  “Oh…  God…  Cooper…”

“Ember.”

She blinked her eyes open at the gentle squeeze of a large hand on her shoulder.  

“Wake up, Sleepyhead, we’re stopping for lunch,” he cleared his throat when she turned her head to face him.

Ember’s brow furrowed.

What the hell?

She was buckled in her seat, fully dressed?

Cooper dropped his hand.  “I’m surprised you fell asleep with my singing,” he teased her.  “Never worked on my kids when they were little.”

Did he sound a little gruff?

She blinked her eyes to try to focus on him.  Was he avoiding eye contact, too?  Damn those sunglasses…

“No comment?”  His chuckle sounded a tad forced.

“No!”  She blushed fiercely, wondering now if her dream had been… possibly a bit vocal.  “N-no, I… I guess a smooth car ride combined with a sleepless night put me to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he slipped the key from the ignition and shifted in his seat to slip it in his pocket.  “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”