#we are at a VERY SLOW PACE but WE ARE MOVING FORWARD

[pagesfromthevoid]

Tagging in here for the Bob discussion. But imagine after a few times together he gets the confidence to be on top but he is a complete service top (still whiny though)

You’re so right, anon. So very right (this got. Very away from me).

The first few times, he’s so awkward. He’s worried he’s not doing it right, or he’s bad at it. He’s so timid and awkward, and he waits for you to make the first move because he knows what he wants but he doesn’t know what you want. What if you don’t want him touching you there? Or what if he does something you don’t like but won’t say anything so you don’t upset him? So he lets you make the choices.

But after —let’s say, the fourth, fifth time (and a few shattered windows because, well, turns out he doesn't know how to control his powers just yet when he's worked up) —he realizes that…you want him just badly as he wants you. Actually, you might be even more desperate than he is, honestly. Because you’re the one being patient with him. You’re taking everything by his pace; stopping when he needs to stop. Only touching him when he’s made it clear he’s okay with it. While he’s the one “in control,” it’s not really control —you’re just you, and you’re willing to take it slow and take care of him over yourself instead.

And now all he wants is to give you everything.

You’re lounging in his bed one night, reading one of the books from the stack he got from the library. Bob isn’t in the room; he’s been with Bucky and Walker most of the evening, doing god knows what (jokes on you, he was getting a terrible pep talk from both of them on how to do this). Bucky was helpful; gave some relatively functional advice. However, Walker kept repeating to use the alphabet, which was…not great and even Bob knows that. They did make him put on a less baggy tee shirt; something about having confidence in his own appearance would translate into the room.

He missed his sweater.

You only look up when the door opens because there’s a shift in the air; not a bad shift. Just...different suddenly. You put the book aside as he walks in, hands behind his back. He looks a bit rigid; stiff, uncomfortable.

“Where’s your sweater?” You ask, though it’s hard to complain when you can see the veins in his arms properly.

You don’t mind the baggy clothes; he’s comfortable and you find that’s what is most attractive. But it would be a lie to say you’re not pleased to see the lean muscle that he has under this shirt. Outside of being intimate, it wasn't often that you got to see him exposed in any way —even if it was just a t-shirt instead of a sweater.

“Uh, Bucky and Walker took it,” he explains but that sounds bad so he explains further. “Training. We were training and they didn’t want me to train in it. It’s…weird, right? The shirt? I’m not used to wearing things that are so…I don’t know, tight?”

You just hum, tilting your head to the side as you look him over. He looks down some, feeling like he’s being ogled (well, he is. But he's still not used to you staring at him like this).

“I think you look good,” you offer, sitting up properly now. “Not that I don’t like what you usually wear —I like whatever makes you feel good. But I'm not going to pretend that I don't like being able to see more of you whenever I get the chance."

"You do?" He asks, and you can't help but laugh a little. "I'm not much to look at —,"

"Wrong," you quickly interrupt, slowly standing up. "There's a reason why I like to take off your clothes —I like taking my time because I don't get to see all of you often." You pause for a second, taking a moment to consider how much more you could tell him without making him uncomfortable. "It's something that only I get to see. I like to enjoy that."

Bob is staring you down, definitely short-circuiting because neither Bucky nor Walker advised him on how to handle anything you just said. How is it fair that you’re just so…good to him?

But then...he takes a step forward. You don't move; that shift in the air suddenly makes sense and you let Bob decide what he's going to do now. His hands clench into fists a few times, trying to coax himself forward.

You take just barely a step towards him —not even an inch. Something instinctual; something gravitational. Then his hands are on your hips, and his lips are on yours, and he’s pushing you towards the bed. It’s the first time he’s initiated a kiss without outright asking. You melt into the touch, sighing into his mouth as the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Sometimes you forget that Bob is incredibly powerful. He was, after all, created to be stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He doesn't particularly like using his abilities, but when his hands grip your thighs and lift you up, you gasp in surprise.

"I want to make you feel good," he practically breathes into your mouth, and even though he's the one leading, his voice comes out begging. "You always take care of me —let me do that for you."

You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss, but he only let's you get a quick peck in before he's pulling away. You whine a bit, sitting up on your elbows to complain —but you can't find anything to complain about as Bob is slipping his shirt over his head.

It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless. But it's the first time he's taken his shirt off himself, without prompting. Usually he wants to wait until you ask, or you're the one playing with the hem of the shirt and trying to get it off. But the confidence in his movements is both amazing and distractingly attractive, and you're staring unabashedly with lust blown pupils and kiss swollen lips.

Your eyes trail over his skin —the freckles and scars that letter his collarbones, the flush that's spread from his throat down over his chest. Down to his abs and following the V that leads below the waist of his sweats —which are straining from the hard on that's hidden beneath.

"You're staring," he teases, and it's a shaking sort of tease —like he's unsure of if he should be speaking.

"You're hot," you confess, but it's not really a confession at this point.

You've told him he's hot before —he doesn't believe you usually. But the little grin on his face suggests that maybe today, he does.

"You're too good for me," he counters as his hands slide up your thighs and over your hips. Then he's leaning in closer, pressing his lips to your jaw and peppering kisses over your skin.

You buck slightly at the touch, chasing it, and he immediately gives in and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your leggings. You suck in a breath, and he pauses, but you lift your hips in response, a silent plea to continue. He doesn't hesitate and pries your clothes off of you, tossing them to the floor, before settling between your legs on his knees. You move to take off your shirt but he stops you, one hand holding you down.

"Don't," he warns, puling away to look down at you. "Let me do this for you."

You watch him for a moment but nod, pulling your hands away from your shirt. Bob's hands are slow —not teasing, not purposely at least —dragging up your hips to your waist, pushing your shirt up as he goes. His fingers trail along your ribs, just grazing the edge of your bra. You briefly wonder if he'll try to take it off or if you'll need to do that yourself —but he settles on pulling your shirt over your head first.

Your skin is warm and soft against his fingers, and he's watching as your chest rises with each breath you take in anticipation. You're still sitting up on your elbows, waiting, watching, when he leans down and pulls you up against his chest. One hand is bracing your lower back as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra.

Confidence doesn't matter when it comes to bras, because they're evil, he decides as he sighs in frustration. He almost caves into the embarrassment, worried he's ruined the moment. But you reach behind your back with ease and unclip it, and toss it away. He wants to complain, and you can see he does, but you wrap your arms around his neck again and pull him into a messy kiss.

It's all teeth and tongues, deepening each second his hands grip you tighter. Then he's laying you back down, dragging his lips from yours to your jaw. Then down your throat. One of his hands holds your hip, but the other is trembling as it approaches your breast and tentatively squeezes it. You hum in response, and his mouth is on your nipple now, grazing it with his teeth.

Between the biting, the sucking and the pinching, you're aching for more. But the sounds he's making —the moans when you sigh his name or tug at his hair —are almost as satisfying as an orgasm itself.

Though you certainly wouldn't refuse one or two of those.

Perhaps he can read your mind, or maybe he just knows what he wants —it doesn't really matter —because he gives your breasts one final squeeze and nip then trails his mouth down your stomach. The closer he gets to you, the more fidgety you become. You can feel his lips smile against your skin.

"It's okay," he promises, breath fanning over your thighs as he parts them slowly.

His fingers are trembling slightly, pressed into your thighs just enough to leave marks. Like he's scared that if he lets go, you're going to pull away from him. But he shakes those thoughts from his head, shifting down the bed until he's sitting on his knees on the floor. You're about to argue, to ask him what he's doing, but he wraps his arms around your thighs and yanks you down the bed until your legs are over his shoulders. You gasp, and his nose just barely presses above your wet core.

He groans, pressing his forehead into your thigh, fingers tightening around you. "God, you are...you're so wet."

"I told you," you sigh, running a hand through his hair, guiding him to look up at you through his lashes. "You're hot. This is hot. Everything you're doing is just...hot."

He melts into you, taking a moment to ground himself in your touch. "You have no idea how much you do for me," he admits, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh softly. "But I'm...I'm going to try to show you."

"Oh, Bob, you don't —,"

But you cut yourself off with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his face in between your legs. Your hips move involuntarily, chasing his tongue as it swipes through your folds. He doesn't stop you, only presses his tongue flat against you before he sucks on your clit.

You suck in a breath, begging him to keep going. He nods as if he trying to respond, but he's groaning instead as he slips his tongue into you. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand guiding his head and mouth exactly where you need him to be. The hands holding your hips drift away, one disappearing entirely while the other glides just between your folds, one finger pressing into you slowly.

"Oh-oh," you sigh, involuntarily clenching around his one finger. "Oh, god, more —please —you're doing so good.."

He pulls his mouth away, just slightly, so he can see how you react as he slips a second finger inside you —curling up slightly. His eyes are glossy, face smeared in your juices, and you think this is the hottest thing you've seen in your entire life.

You cry out his name, back arching off the bed as you beg for him to go faster. He pulls out, just briefly, and you swear you hear him groan again. But you're too distracted by his fingers pressing up into you once again to notice any sounds that aren't the sounds of him finger-fucking you and him whining as he sucks on your clit.

You're so close —can feel it teetering on the edge when you manage to open your eyes just enough to watch him suck at your clit as he continues his rhythm. His other hand —the one that had disappeared —is in his lap and you understand his own whimpering now. While he's ruining you —burying his fingers so deep inside you, curling up and into that spongey spot that causes you to cry —he's jerking off at the whole experience.

And that tips you over the edge, pressing your heels into his shoulders as he furiously pumps his fingers in and out as you ride out your orgasm. You're crying out his name, begging him to stop because it's sensitive —fuck, your nerves are on fire —but he knows you don't actually want him to stop. It feels so good —the wave after wave of your orgasm washing over you before you hear him cry out himself, his body jerking against yours as he cums all over his hand.

You've collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, and he's laying his forehead against your thigh. Both coming down from this, trying to catch your breaths.

When you've finally come to your senses —a solid five minutes later —you pull him up to lay beside you, pushing his hair out of his face. He's smiling at you lazily, hand laying against the base of your throat to feel your heartbeat.

"Have I told you recently how hot you are?" You ask, brushing your nose against his. You can smell yourself on his breath, and you're about to kiss him again when he says,

"I think I might start believing it soon."

---

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @myrrh-dock

[amugoffandoms]

hello friends!!

uhh mugram's voice dramas are complete!! yay :D!!!

I'm gonna start working on other stuff while I wait to begin on "songs" but mugram is still happening!

[semiloml]

“Let me hear you, baby.”

Sugawara’s voice was soft, teasing, but there was no mistaking the command beneath it. His warm brown eyes watched you closely, his grip firm as he guided your hips, keeping you right where he wanted you—straddling his lap, taking every inch of him, slow and deep.

You whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders as you sank down fully, your walls stretching around him, taking him to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, his hands smoothing over your thighs, gripping your hips, controlling your pace. “Look at you, taking me so well.”

You clenched around him, and he let out a deep, satisfied hum, tilting his head to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat. His fingers flexed at your hips before dragging up your back, guiding you forward until your chest was pressed to his, your forehead resting against his own.

“So sensitive,” he murmured, rolling his hips up to meet yours, making you gasp.

“Kou—”

“Shh, baby,” he cooed, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your lips. “Let me take care of you.”

He set the rhythm—slow, deep, precise, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him.

“There we go, just like that,” he praised, his other hand sliding between your legs, finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

You whined, and he smiled, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss—sweet, claiming, just a little possessive.

“You wanna come for me, sweetheart?” he murmured against your lips, his fingers moving faster, his thrusts hitting deeper.

You nodded frantically, body tensing, pleasure coiling tight, but then his grip on your jaw tightened, making you look at him.

“Then ask me nicely.”

your breath caught, his dark, knowing gaze sending shivers down your spine.

“Please, Kou,” you whispered, clinging to him, trembling. “Please let me come.”

A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered—right before he tipped you over the edge.

AUTHOR‘S NOTE: wrote this for my underrated king sugawara🫡reblogs and comments are very appreciated <33

[kikidoul]

── THIN WALLS.

ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ 박성훈 x fem! reader content established relationship ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content petnames used unprotected sex fingering nipple play lmk if i missed anything else ig. . .!? 1276 — mlist. req

note. i can't remember who sunghoon lives with on the same floor so uh, this is just me bullshitting LOL. taglist. @tfwbluu @hoonstqr

“Mmh, w-wait—” You gasped through the kiss but Sunghoon showed no intention of stopping. 

He steps forward, making you move backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed. All it took was a gentle push and you toppled backward, landing on the neat, clean pristine sheets. Cupping your face with his hands, Sunghoon ducked his head to crash his lips against yours—as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart for a mere second. He swallowed your sounds, parting your lips and swirled your tongues together, eliciting a breathless whimper that was downright angelic to his ears. 

Goosebumps formed on your skin as his hands slid underneath your shirt, drawing random patterns on your bare skin. You had to break the kiss when the lack of oxygen was getting to you, only for Sunghoon to trail kisses down your neck. Tilting your head, you arched your back off the bed as he removed your shirt, tossing it to the floor. You flinched when you felt his sharp teeth nipping at your skin, nearly letting out a high-pitched whine but you remembered where you were. 

“H-Hoonie—we c-can’t,” you whimpered, absentmindedly grinding your hips against his—the friction caused from his clothed cock rocking against your clothed clit made you feel delirious.

“Shh, just be quiet, princess,” he hushed you, lips curling up against your skin when you gasped as he tugged your shorts and panties down in a blink of an eye, revealing your embarrassingly wet cunt. You tried to close your legs but Sunghoon was faster. He gripped onto your inner thighs, slotting himself in between your legs so you couldn’t close them.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to see you,” he continued, inching closer to your aching cunt. 

You squeaked when he licked a slow stripe upwards by flattening his tongue followed by running his tongue along your folds, setting a ruthless pace that leaves your mind spinning. The lewd sounds of him eating you out like a starved man echoed within the four walls. Your ears turned red at the prospect of his fellow members returning and hearing you but the thought flew out of your mind the moment his long, slender fingers slowly slid in, scissoring you. 

Your back arched off the bed as he continued torturing you. With his fingers and skillful tongue, it didn’t take you long to reach your climax. Endless sounds—mewls, moans, whimpers and even the desperate chants of Sunghoon’s name spilled from your parted lips. You were so close, hips grinding against his persistent mouth— 

Only for him to pull away. 

A pitiful whine was torn from the depths of your throat at the denied orgasm. Raising your head, you were greeted with the sight of Sunghoon’s nose and lips glistening underneath the dim ceiling light, coated in your juices. Your face burned, hole clenching down on his fingers that was buried knuckle-deep in you. 

“Hoonie, please,” you whimpered, trying to rock your hips against his fingers but to your dismay, he pulled them out, leaving you uncomfortably empty. 

He hovered his fingers—the very same fingers covered with your juices near your mouth. No words were needed. You obediently parted your lips, sucking and thoroughly licking every expanse of his fingers, ensuring that you leave nothing behind. Tears pricked your eyes, letting out a muffled choking sound when he abruptly pushed his fingers further down until you felt him hitting the back of your throat.  

After what felt like an eternity, Sunghoon withdrew his fingers that were now cleaned. He leaned down, rewarding you with a kiss that you eagerly returned with equal fervor. He didn’t break the kiss while removing his sweatpants and boxers, followed by him grabbing the lube before tossing his sweatpants to the ground. The sight of the lube bottle made you blinked, stunned. 

“Did you plan this?” You asked, watching as he pumped his cock a few times, using the lube to make the glide smoother.

“Maybe, would you be mad if I said yes?” He cheekily returned your question with a question of his own, making you roll your eyes. 

Your breath hitches as his cockhead presses against your hole. Sunghoon slowly pushed in, inch by inch and eventually, he bottoms out. You felt like you were floating, with how insanely full you felt. He hissed as your velvety, gummy walls clenched down on his cock, almost as if they were locking him in place, forbidding him from moving. The man started off slow—giving lazy, languid thrusts that had you whimpering underneath him. 

It didn’t take him long to reach his limit and he quickened his pace, hips brutally slapping against yours. The sound of skin against skin along with your breathless pants and his grunts filled the bedroom. You tilted your head back and it was only right for Sunghoon to kiss the area, leaving more bite marks behind. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your lower half slightly hovering over the bed. The slight change of angle made the both of you moaned, allowing him to hit deeper than before. 

“Ngh, Hoonie, ‘o good,” you slurred, eyes rolling up to the back of your head as he kept hitting the same spot until you were seeing stars. “G-Gonna cum, hah.”

“Yea? My pretty girl wanna cum?” He coos, hand snaking down to rub your sensitive bud.

“Mmphf, pl-pleasepleaseplease,” you sobbed, chanting his name along with pathetic pleas for your boyfriend to take mercy on you. 

Humming, Sunghoon ducked his head, capturing your left, hardened nipple with his lips. He swirled the bud with his tongue, covering it with a layer of saliva. The extra stimulation on your clit and chest was enough to push you to the edge, your walls spasming and contracting as you reached your orgasm. Your body shuddered at the intensity, limbs going pliant as your boyfriend continued to pound into you, his thrusts growing sloppy and erratic as he chased after his climax. 

“T-Too much,” you whined but despite your weak protests, you didn’t have the strength to push him away. Instead, you merely laid there—allowing him to use you. It didn’t take him long and you moaned at the feeling of him spilling inside you, pumping you full of his cum. 

Sunghoon was careful as he pulled out, drawing a disappointed sound from you at the sudden uncomfortable, awkward feeling of emptiness, making you clenched down on nothing but thin air. He kissed your forehead—a sweet action that made your heart flutter as he wiped the both of you off with towels. Once done, he assisted you in wearing one of his shirts that reached your thighs. He had to move you off the bed, removing the dirtied sheets and was efficient in replacing them with fresh, clean sheets. 

“I’ll be back,” he said, flashing you a soft smile after getting dressed. The moment he stepped out and closed the door of his room, he paused at the sight of his roommates—Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki in the living room with the television screen playing some movie. 

Sunghoon owlishly blinks. “Uh—” 

“Hyung, you do know the walls aren’t thin, right?” Sunoo asks, the first to break the silence. 

His ears and cheeks turned as red as a tomato. “You told me you guys won’t be back till ten!” 

The leader rolled his eyes, puffing his mochi-like cheeks. “Our schedule finished earlier than we expected and we didn’t expect to hear the two of you going at it like… wild animals.” 

Riki being Riki, jumped in at the chance to tease the older. “Yeah, you two are gross.” 

“I hate all of you.” 

[screampied]

Omg hi can I request like a loving, cozy, domestic pronebone with Suguru?? Like he’s just like “shh be quiet Satoru is in the room next door we can’t wake him up” while pressing adoring kisses to the back of your neck omg😵‍💫

trying to keep quiet with suguru ★

cw. fem! reader, prone bone, unprotected, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise

“. . . shhhh,” he’d shush against the corner of your ear, presenting you deep low strokes. a winded gasp wretches from your throat as a palm of geto’s glues against your mouth. he’s so deep, a free hand of his ghosts against the backsides of your spine. an eye roll overtakes your pupils as he’s giving you such righteous hits against your yawning core. geto’s weight just narrowly hovers over you as he’s pressed right up against you, spit slicked lips of yours gnaw and gnash together before you whine again. “gotta be quiet sweetheart. unless you want ‘toru to hear us. you want him to hear how sloppy you are f’me, hm?”

craning your head slowly, you shake a sweet little no and he chuckles, a kiss going against the crown of your head. “so cute,” he purrs in a husky tone, a hand of his gripping against the very edges of your arced hips. fingertips of his dance alongside the very curvature of your body — he takes pride in the way your body responds to him. you’re flinging back and forth, forward against the screeching mattress. geto’s skin, coated with a sweetened sheet of sweat sticks against your own m with each ruthless thrust. “ugh, h-hey, are you licking my palm? mhm, such a filthy girl.”

you were,

with the flatness of your tongue, it lathers against the very center of geto’s palm — tasting the insipid areas of his hand. it follows the creasing flexion lines that runs against his skin.

not before long, you dig your teeth into his hand as your muffled moans vibrate against his luscious tasting flesh. “ah, let me guess. you wanna suck on my fingers too, baby?”

“mmf, y- yes,” you whine as he momentarily departs his hand away. a nice trail of spit looks almost adhesive, its stickiness pastes against his hand as he pries his hand away from your wet mouth. geto’s sharpened hips still deeply drilling into you in the background. your loving hole flutters as you’re just vigorously being pounded beneath the sheets, each wheezing gasp that snatches from your lungs feels like it’s going to be its last. “pleaseee.”

“my pretty girl,” he whispers, the head of his cock never refusing to hit the right angle. with an easy direction of his fingers attaching to your hips, he makes you raise your torso upward to reach more bottomless areas. oh, your mouth forms into the letter ‘o’ at the way he’s stuffing you full of shaft. it’s almost mouth watering,

it is mouth watering.

as you bury your head into the crook of your elbow, geto leans in to place a few kisses near the indenting lines of your back. “look at this gorgeous body,” he purrs, his hips ultimately slowing its maddened pace down — yet despite his tempo suddenly losing its quickened haste, geto’s chest deflates. as he’s leaning up closer to you, his ravened locks of his dance graze up your shoulders as he moves.

back and forth, back and forth,

his rhythm was purely enticing. your jaw aches a bit from how it’s just idly hanging open before he showers you with more delicate kisses.

this time near your neck.

geto’s slow and precise. he starts by your nape, a tongue gradually rolling out to get a taste of your saline, salty skin.

“can never get enough of your taste, fuck,” he murmurs, you’re still plugged in with a good amount of his dick. geto’s so full, swollen rotund balls of his continues to cuff and cuff and cuff against your slick pussy. your ears knell from the never ending paps your own arousal sings as a response. “open wide, baby. get my fingers wet.”

not even seconds later, your lips happily part in preparation for geto to stuff his thickened fingers into your drooling mouth. he grins, already telling how eager you were—milliseconds leisurely passes by and you’re already relishing in the taste of two of his digits curling inside of your mouth.

“thaaat’s it, get it wet ‘cause i want a taste too when you’re done.”

your long lashes flutter against your own eyes as geto starts to pick up his pace again. his other hand still grips onto your waist as he feels your ass writhe against him. fuck, he’s getting closer and closer by the second. geto groans from how you stick against him — he’s already given you a sweet velvety load already. obsidian-black irises of his leer down at the lewd scene at bay. you’re trying to keep up with his pace, but his girth. the wide end stretch alone has you hearing plethora amounts of fuzz pour out of your ears. “s-shit, you’re so perfect arched over for me, sweets..”

with a tongue still lolling around, you merely prevent yourself from gagging once you feel the tips of his digits prod against the very roof of your mouth. just a few inches away from your uvula, a sheeny trail of saliva starts to dribble down your chin before he leans in to kiss you more against your neck.

geto even creates a little trail of kisses . .

numerous times, the warmth of his lips makes your cunt twitch up in total desperation.

trying your best to stay quiet, a loud roaring whimper tugs out of your throat at the head of his cock thwacks repeatedly against your g-spot. you gasp, two fingers of his falling out of your mouth before you’re just pornographically moaning again and again. “f- fuck, right there sugu. hngh.”

“this spot, yeah i know pretty,” and he’s heaving right with you. the undersides of the bed resumes to grate and screech in harmony. he pauses for a bit, popping his own two wet fingers into his mouth. he hums at your taste, relishing in it entirely. so sweet. as geto’s body lingers over you, your ass continuously rebounds against his. a sharp throaty rasp slides out of his lips and he hisses. “gonna cum, f-fuck, ‘m gonna stuff you so full again.”

“i- inside, sugu,” you whine as he gently delves his teeth into the left juncture of your collarbone. it was all exposed—he couldn’t help but leave a little piercing mark from his pearly white canines. geto loves getting carried away and smothers your entire skin with his own homemade moist, needy kisses. airy hot breath collides against your skin, sending you various shivers before you feel your pussy throb. it’s throbbing only divides and multiplies. he hits you in every angle, the curve of his dick ruptures through you and you moan as you feel the arch in your back perk upward. “don’t miss, wan’ it s’bad, want you.”

“i want you too,” he huffs, though with a deep voice — his voice sounds a bit shaky, a bit needy..

maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you were almost positive geto just whined for you. you had him so sensitive, his jaw tightens as he continues to ram his fat cock into your compressing, dense walls.

the bed’s sobbing from the hefty weight wringing against the furniture. the same creaking sensations reverbs throughout your ears and the room itself before within seconds. he’s dumping yet another oozy load into you.

with a sleazy wry grin, geto toots your hips up and he starts to grind against you.

your head’s pressing against the silky reddened crimson sheets before you grow quiet. huffs and puffs were the only noises that could be heard, as well as geto’s whimpering that subsides as he starts to finish his longing high. “god, you always know how to m-milk the shit out of me,” he hoarsely titters, wrapping a good amount of fingers around his twitching shaft. geto fists his cock as he’s still gushing a sizable portion of cum into your rapacious hole. still being a tease, you rub up against his lap as you’re still bent over, feeling his hands trail against the very curvature areas your ass. “huh, want more, do ya?”

“don’t stop, sugu,” you mewl out in a desperate plea, craving for more of his seed. it trickles down between your thighs, leaving you so sticky, a mess.

his mess,

geto can’t help but smear the fat of his thumb over your emitting entrance. the print of his finger ghosts against your gooey slit.

the gooey warm cum that streams down and outside your slit makes him groan. “i’ll never stop, baby. y-you can milk me for as much as you’d like,” he pants, preparing to realign himself again. “now let me,” he pants, the entirety of his lungs inhaling air from each second. his lips press against your neck for a final time before he whispers. “let me love you, baby. bend back over f’me, ‘m not done with this gorgeous body yet.”

[godjustkys]

Okay, this just popped in my head but imagine fucking Dean dumb/stupid. He’s blabbering nonsense, trying to move himself someway to feel more of you (yk yk?), and begging for more. Like he’d been pent up, has been a lil angry the past week, and just needs to get fucked good. Do we catch my drift? 😋 lmk if you need me to go more in depth

SYPNOSIS: fucking dean dumb after he had a long week . . .

CHARACTER: male reader x dean winchester

NOTE: HELL FUCKING YEAH. i love this one.

p.s. requests are always open!!

WC: 1.8k

WARNING: praise,, light mean!reader,, multiple creampies,, very light dub-con (?),, big dick!reader,, slow sex to rough sex,, light overstimulation,,

a very light groan leaves dean's lips as you press your tip to his hole. he’s angry. you can tell. “don’t— fuckin’ play w’me.” he slurred out, voice tight. “not your day?” you mused, continuing to tease him, just prodding at his entrance with the head of your cock. “not my week.” he managed through gritted teeth, his voice small. “if you don’t do something right fucking now i swear to god, i will—” ah. there, you cut him off just in time. no threats needed. dean exhaled shakily, his eyes screwing shut, his upper lip twitching with annoyance. your hand around his weeping cock did provide some relief, but it wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the entire week he spent grumpy and pent up. you leaned forward, your lips against his scruffy jaw. “that bad, huh?” you murmured softly, fingers wrapped lightly around his length, moving in slow, purposeful strokes. with your other hand, you guided yourself in, pushing just an inch of your cock.

dean made a strangled sound and your digits flexed around him. he looked so perfect like this; needy, impatient, breathless. he muttered your name in a warning, trying to slide his hips down the bed to take more of you; he fucking needed it. as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw and pulled your hips back, not letting him get more of you in, a groan was pulled out of his throat. dean's hands shot up to grasp at your arms, fingertips digging into your flesh. “you son of a bitch— jus’—” he gritted out. “ah ah, you’ve been a bastard this week, you deserve this.” your hand let go of his cock and trailed up his abdomen to his chest. his muscles tensed underneath your touch and his head lolled back, pressing into the pillow. just as he was about to respond, you cut in. “don’t fight me on this.”

he sighed pathetically, his legs spreading wider in anticipation. “i’ll fuck you dumb, my sweet boy. fuck you so good you’ll forget everything.” your voice was just slightly muffled by his skin. he leaned into your touch, rolling his hips in another attempt. this time, you didn’t pull away. you pushed it all in, all the way to the hilt. with a deep groan his chest arched up to the ceiling, his fingers trembling against your biceps. “fuck.. yeah..” dean rasped out, his facial expression contorting back to his neutral one, body relaxing as you buried yourself deep inside him. “atta boy, so good f’me.. takin’ all o’me..” you crooned as you set the pace to a slow, steady rhythm.

a ragged gasp left dean's lips the more you thrusts quickened. “ahhuh— yea.. shit..” continuing to press hot, open mouthed, wet kisses across his jaw, both of your hands gripped his hips. he responded with a low, barely audible yet controlled hum. with your fingers pressing into his flesh, you drove into him slowly, dragging your thrusts — each one designed to make him feel every inch. dean's breath caught in his throat, his walls squeezing around you; which was followed by a raw, desperate moan. “there you go, sweetheart.. so perfect,” the weak growl that he let out melted into a gasp as you shifted the angle, hitting his prostate. his legs jolted, almost trying to close, as if on instinct. you didn’t even appreciate the idea of him shutting you out. you adjusted the position, his calves resting on your shoulders now. dean's hands dropped back to the bed, grasping at the fabric of the sheets. due to him being so compliant, you rewarded him with a particularly deep thrust, wrapping your arms around his thighs. “mhh— there, yea, yea there— right there..” he got out, voice a broken whine.

keeping the depth the same, relishing in the way his hole was so tight around your thick cock, you picked up the pace. “knew you’d get needy. knew you’d come undone the second i started fuckin’ you.” you muttered mindlessly, your back straight, head between his calves. dean turned his head to the side, bringing up an arm to sling over his mouth. you were relentless now, hips slapping against his ass, that slick sound filling the room right alongside the wet drag of your kisses along the side of his calf — you needed his voice filling your ears; it was like a melody. always. “c’mon, pretty,” you rasped, biting gently at the skin. “let me hear how good it is.” dean groaned, the sound loud and wrecked. his hips started meeting your thrusts with stuttering attempts of his own. his voice cracked on your name again, lips parting like he was trying to say something and forgetting halfway through. pushing his legs off of your shoulders, your hands grabbed his thighs, pulling him up, making his lower half slide up your own thighs just so he could take you balls deep. his mouth hung open in a soundless gasp, back arching and legs wrapping around your waist, heels pressing to your lower back. his body twitched as if he was shocked when you pounded into him with deep, ruthless thrusts.

incoherent babbles left dean's mouth, his voice hoarse. this wasn’t right. this is, what? the fourth, maybe fifth round? he’s leaking; both from his already spent cock and from your cum dripping out of his hole. you were still fucking into him, your cum making the back of his thighs sticky. dean was shaking everywhere. his hands were hurting from how much he tried to grasp at everything to keep himself grounded, the muscles in his legs and stomach ached due to your brutal pace; it was the most intense workout ever. poor guy’s whole body jerked beneath you with each thrust, thighs shaking from the effort of holding himself open, of taking it again and again. “c— ca— ah- mh- mh, mh- pleasuh..!—” he whined out, whisper yelling the.. ‘sentence’. you let out a soft scoff, feeling breathless. you were fucking dean non-stop, so it was reasonable. “take it sweetheart, take it like the good boy that you are.” the tears filling his waterline were making his eyes hurt. he shook his head weakly, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “c-can’t.. swear— i can’t- too— toomuchhh—” he slurred out, voice so hopeless, like he was begging.

you didn’t let up.

“keep whining, baby. so pretty like this, you’re— so gorgeous, takin’ my cock like this..” you praised him softly, pressing kisses to his sweat-slick chest. dean's aching arms wrapped around your neck desperately, managing to bury his face in your shoulder. “mhh-hmmm—shit, shit—wha’, I— fuck- fuck... mhmgh—” he was mumbling into your skin, voice cracking, his lips brushing against you without any direction. just noise. he was even drooling. his hands fumbled at your back, fingertips twitching like they couldn’t figure out whether to pull you closer or push you away. “too much, it’s—nngh, no, no, ghhh—” dean's voice was shaking, the pitch warbling between moan and sob, words spilling out so fast they bled into each other. he kept letting out the most filthiest sounds known to humankind in your ear; groans, sobs, moans, whines, whimpers, grunts, gasps — everything.

his body was overstimulated, every nerve raw, extremely sensitive. he was crying into your shoulder, still clenching around you so tightly. his voice was just pure noise now — no filter, no shame, just wrecked, broken, high pitched syllables falling from his spit-slick lips. dean's jaw moved like he was trying to form words, but his brain had checked out long ago, left somewhere back at the first deep thrust that pushed him over the edge. “unnhh—ahh, fuuh—’s too… it’s too, too much, i—i can’t, i can’t, i am, i’m—” he gasped out. you almost started feeling bad for the guy you were currently pounding the shit out of, but.. his hips rolled helplessly, chasing more, chasing you. yeah, no way you’re gonna stop soon.

dean keened softly when your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to ground him. “lo— luv- you.. ah- love you— i love you- i love you—” he babbled, his voice reaching a pitch you didn’t even know was possible for him. you couldn’t even get your own sentence out, groan after groan pulling itself out of your throat. though you didn’t really need to respond, he was rambling, so much so that you were certain he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. “ahhh, yes, yeah yeah ye— ah- ah— ohgodohfuck— fuckin’fuckfuck—” he kept whining, slobbering all over your shoulder. “fff—ngghhnnn, i- s- see— seriou—ah- can’t—” he sobbed the last word out, trembling and shaking his head against your shoulder. his abdomen was tensed and he just- needed to get away from the feeling, even if just for a moment. he tried moving his hips away, keyword; tried. you didn’t let him. “keep— keep takin’ my cock, dean. you’re- not going anywhere.” you whispered against the shell of his ear. “you’re alright, you’re okay.” you mumbled, and dean.. well.. he continued sobbing, his thighs clamping around your waist even tighter. god those perfect thighs. you’d kill for them. “not— not ‘lright..” he whimpered out, almost frustrated. his fingers curled into your skin, weak and twitchy, trying to anchor himself somehow. but you weren’t letting him go. not yet. “shhh.. shh baby,” you spoke in his ear, the harder thrusts you were giving him were not helping. at all. “jus’— wanna fuck you good, like i promised. i jus’ wanna keep my promise, sweetheart.” you reasoned gently. you could feel him trembling against you — still clinging, still whispering and groaning nonsense against your neck.

dean's body, his voice, his mind; it was just a mess of aftershocks and need, soft and quiet and so far from the snarling, grumpy dean that had shoved you into this night to begin with. now he was curled up to you so close, cheek pressed to your shoulder, breath hitching every few seconds. “m’so deep inside you, baby.. ya feel me- right? feel me right,” you paused, moving a hand to his lower abdomen. “here?” dean was utterly and completely broken. not a single coherent word from him, just countless slurred syllables, moans, whines, everything in between. he felt so full and so spent, his body aching everywhere. and here you were, still holding the man in your lap, bouncing him on your cock like it’s your first round. dean was slick in every fucking liquid possible; pre-cum, cum, sweat, tears, drool, god he was an absolute mess.

the moment you came inside dean, yet again, his entire body was spasming against you as you did your best to keep him grounded. he barely even had his voice as he moaned loudly, his own cock twitching uselessly against your stomachs, pressed between you two. he couldn’t even cum properly anymore. when he pulled away from your shoulder, you cupped his face with a singular hand. “there he is,” you murmured, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “my good boy.”

[starboye]

pairing: prince ben x male reader x harry hook

request: hey can you do a ben x harry hook x male reader where they Both fuck you but harry is really rough while ben is gentle. and harry is very kinky with pet names and stuff

warnings: smut, rough sex, slight degradation, soft sex, lil praise, pet names, cursing, oral sex

harry hook and prince ben, known for being sworn enemies but they had to put that hate aside when you arrived to school, the hottest guy they had ever layed eyes on and they both wanted you, but you... well you had an ego to say the least, very snappy and rude, harry didn't like that much so he decided to fuck you and ben couldn't possibly miss the chance to fuck you.

"yeah such a good slut for a us right" harry grins watching you go dumb over his dick, your face shoved into a pillow as you let out a bunch of moans and whimpers "c'mon harry you dont have to call him a slut" ben says caressing your back to soothe the pain you feel lower "shut up ben we both know he loves this" harry grunts pulling your hair to lift your face up from the pillows.

you let out a loud whine as harry does so, trying to hide your face from the embarrassment you feel "hey you okay" ben coos wiping the tears from your face, you nod slowly at his question before trying to cover your face again, not wanting to be any more embarrassed than you already are "harry dont you think you could go a little slower" ben asks.

"no the whore deserves it, walking around here like he's better than everyone else" harry says moving his hands to grip your waist as hi thrusts become rougher and harder "don't worry it'll be over soon" ben softly say as you continue to moan "can you shut him the fuck up, if you don't i will" harry says, and you know he will i mean he's done it before (which resulted in you not being able to take for a week).

"can you suck it just for me" ben asks stroking his dick lightly, you nod and lower your head onto bens dick, sucking is slowly as ben grips onto the bed sheets "his mouth feels so good right, i trained it myself" harry chuckles thrusting forward hardly to push you down on bens dick quicker.

you gag at the feeling of his dick rushing down your throat "harry!" ben yells "will you shut up and just enjoy this" harry rolls his eyes, his thrusts into slowing down for just a second before pick up pace again, you pull away from his dick out of pure instinct because of the hours of fucking he's put you through "don't run from it baby" harry says says quickly grabbing your hips to plant his dick back in your sloppy hole.

you let out a gargled moan at the feeling of his dick back in your sensitive hole but ben soothes you with his gentle words "it's okay you got this darling" ben says lightly guiding your head up and down "mhm just like that up and down" he coos resting his back on the head board, letting out satisfied groans as you pleasure him.

"fuck m'gonna cum" harry groans "then please cum and let y/n rest" ben pleas, his eyes still glued to the sight of you swallowing his dick whole"you want him to cum in you" ben asks you, you nod slowly, feeling your second climax coming on "yeah i bet you would, such a good boy for us" harry says slapping your ass and wrapping his hand around your dick.

he jerks you off at the same pace of his thrusts; rough and quick wanting you to cum at the same time, you moan around bens dick as harry does so, his hands digging into the mattress to keep them from grabbing your head and fucking his cock into your throat "fuckkk" you hear harry groan before his cum floods your hole.

his cum painting your walls white is just enough tip you over the edge and cum in harrys hand "it's your turn now big boy" harry huffs looking at ben, your eyes stared up at ben as you continue to suck him off, i mean ben wanted to hold out for a little longer but the way your teary eyes and needy face look at him has him thinking he wants to start a family with you.

"f- fine" ben stammer as just with the first utter from his mouth you were rolling your tongue around his tip and getting his dick all the way down your throat, he let out a long groan as he came in your mouth, some of it dripping off to the side "be a good boy for the nice man and swallow" harry whispers in your ear.

you swallow all the cum with a gulp as you and ben hold deep eye contact for a couple seconds before you let out a wince of pain as harry pulls out of your sloppy hole "hey break it up you love birds" harry says snapping you both from looking at each other "yeah i gotta get going anyways, princely duties and all" ben stammers getting up to stop himself from getting another hard on.

"yeah me too, gotta go do some things for my parents" you say getting out of the bed and putting on your clothes and walking out the room, the way ben watched you go with admiration in his eyes made you think this isn't the last time you were gonna be filled by the two.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat

[natsaffection]

Innocence. pt 1 | N.R

Older!Sargent!Natasha x Younger!Soldier! Reader

Warnings: None for now.

Word count: 5,1k

A/N: First of three parts is here! This one covers the very beginning, what we mostly go through during the first few days after leaving the comfort. The pacing might feel a bit slow while reading, but in person, it’s like you’ve already been there for weeks… and your body definitely isn’t thanking you.

The aircraft swayed just slightly with turbulence, but you barely noticed. You were sitting straight-backed in a seat along the right wall, harnessed in, hands resting atop your gear bag like you were afraid to let go of it. Your fingers itched with nerves, not the kind that made you panic, but the kind that made you wait. Watch. Think too much. You weren’t afraid. Not really. You were just…aware. Of everything.

The soldier across from you had his eyes closed, music bleeding faintly from one side of his headset, something with guitar, low and steady. Two others sat a few rows down, murmuring to each other over a bag of sunflower seeds, occasionally laughing too loud before catching themselves. One guy was bouncing his leg fast, his helmet tipped forward like a makeshift blindfold.

Everyone had a way to sit with their nerves. You just stayed still.

You watched the red glow of the overhead light paint everything in harsh shadow, hard edges on uniforms, tight lines across tense mouths. You could smell oil and canvas, gunmetal and worn leather. The air was dry, and warm. Somewhere far ahead, you knew the pilot was calling out distance markers. They were close.

And out there, already on the ground, already waiting..was her. Staff Sergeant Natasha Romanoff. Your new commanding officer. And the one woman you weren’t sure you knew how to impress…but desperately wanted to try.

Four Weeks Earlier

You stood stiffly at the desk, file in hand. The officer on the other side, some square-jawed sergeant you barely knew, was looking at you like he’d just broken bad news and didn’t want to say it twice.

“I’m sorry.” he said, “Aplha-One didn’t select you. High marks, yes. But they’ve got their own standards.”

You stared at the floor. Your mouth was dry. It wasn’t fair to cry, this was part of the game, you knew that..but still. You’d killed yourself for this unit. Two years of discipline, sweat, tests, sacrifices. Aloha-One was the goal.

“However…” he continued, sliding a second file toward you. “You scored extremely high in tactical reasoning and zero-error protocol under stress. Another team saw your data.”

You looked up slowly. “They want you in Echo 9. SSGT Romanoff’s division.”

Your fingers twitched on the edge of your folder. “Echo 9?”

“They don’t recruit often. But when they do, it’s for a reason. You caught someone’s attention.”

You hesitated. You’d heard the stories, Romanoff’s unit was covert, fast-moving, low profile. Their ops were real, and rarely spoken about.

Alpha-one had been the dream. But Echo 9? That was…something else. You blinked back the sting in your eyes and nodded. “I’ll take it.”

Back to Present

You rolled your shoulders gently. You kept looking at the door, the one that would open and spill you into dust, hot wind, and the start of whatever came next. You’d land near an isolated base camp in a desert region, you knew that much. Some recon op tied to sensitive cargo and possible extraction. High alert. Your first true deployment outside the wire.

Your chance to see her.

You’d only met twice, once during evaluation, and once during the fastest, coldest briefing you’d ever been through. Romanoff had scanned you like she already knew everything, your past, your stats, your tells. Like you’d already said enough by standing in front of her.

Two Weeks Ago

You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of your paper mess, balancing your tablet on one knee and typing with your thumb. A to-do list bloomed across the screen:

• Cancel lease

• Storage unit rental

• Forward mail to Mom

• Emergency contact

• Get tactical gloves (broken stitching)

• Sell old field jacket

Your fingers paused. You looked around the space, still half-lived in. Walls still had photos. Fridge still had magnets. The place didn’t feel like it was missing you yet. But you were already halfway gone.

A few hours later, your best friend Harlow came over to help you pack. You stuffed gear into crates and duffels, argued over which mugs to leave behind, and finally just collapsed onto the couch, still sweaty from lifting boxes.

“I can’t believe they picked you..” Harlow teased, nudging you.

You threw a pillow. “Screw off.”

“No, really. Romanoff? Echo 9? That’s wild. You’re gonna have stories.”

You smiled faintly. “If I come back with stories, it means I didn’t mess it up.”

Harlow looked at you. “You won’t mess it up. You’re meant for this.”

Back to Present

You let out a slow breath, fogging the air just slightly. Someone nearby tightened a strap; someone else cracked their knuckles.

Almost there. And somehow, in the middle of all this..the adrenaline, the altitude, the silence between heartbeats, you felt something else rise in your chest.

Pride.

With a sharp hiss, the hydraulic doors cracked open, and in the same instant, it hit you- The heat. It slammed into your face like a physical wall, dry, thick, pulsing with sun-baked intensity. Your breath caught for a moment, involuntarily. Not from shock, but from the weight of it. It wasn’t just hot, it was the kind of heat that crawled down the back of your neck, sat in your boots, and stole the moisture from your lungs.

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the brutal midday glare. The light was white. So bright the sand looked like it was glowing. A wasteland of tan and beige, mountains ghosting in the distance, like mirages wavering in the heat lines. Your boots clunked against the ramp as you followed the line of soldiers off the aircraft, dust already collecting around your ankles.

“Welcome to hell.” someone muttered behind you. You didn’t reply. You just kept walking, adrenaline mixing with sweat.

The group gathered in formation just beyond the landing zone, sweat already beginning to pool beneath gear not meant for this kind of sun. The tarmac shimmered. A breeze kicked up, hot and sharp with the scent of sand, diesel, and sweat. A tall man in a scorched tan uniform approached, clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Listen up!” he barked. The chatter died instantly. “Today’s the twelfth. It’s 122 degrees out. That’s forty-nine Celsius for you metric-lovers. Hydrate, don’t pass out. You’re not heroes if you collapse on Day One.”

Someone coughed behind you. A few nods. The air was too hot for anything more. The man paused, then added with a dry smirk, “Romanoff’s waiting at Command. You’ll meet her shortly.”

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted, not from the sun this time, but from the name. Romanoff.

You felt a twinge in your chest. Sharp, curious, alert. “She really as hot as they say?” someone to your left whispered under his breath. His voice was low, but not low enough.

“Oh, she’s more than hot..” another guy replied, cracking a grin. “They say she can kill a man and give him a boner at the same time.”

Several soldiers chuckled, their laughter quick, dirty, laced with the kind of bravado that only came when they thought they were out of earshot. Your jaw tensed. You didn’t know Natasha well, yet..but something about the casual, sexual tone made your stomach twist. This wasn’t the kind of place you joked like that. Not about your people.

Then, a silence. It didn’t come slowly. It snapped into place like a rope pulled tight. You turned just slightly. There she was.

Natasha was walking toward you, slow and composed, each step measured, boots kicking up puffs of dust in her wake. Her uniform fit like it was cut for her alone, sleeves rolled up, tags tucked in, not a wrinkle on her. She carried no visible weapon, but no one needed proof.

She was the weapon.

Every soldier in the group straightened, even those who didn’t realize they were doing it. And her eyes, flat, cold, and controlled, landed directly on the man who’d made the joke.

“Name?” she asked, voice like ice under fire.

The guy swallowed. “Uh…Private Miles, ma’am.”

She walked up to him. Close. Too close. Their boots were almost touching. You couldn’t see her eyes anymore, but you saw his. They widened a fraction. His shoulders stiffened. The grin was gone.

“Private Miles..” Natasha said softly, voice barely above a whisper, “if I ever hear you speak about another soldier that way again, especially one in my command, I will personally make sure your transfer home includes a medical dishonorable discharge, and a broken jaw to explain it.”

The air around you didn’t move. Even the breeze seemed to stop. Miles stood like a statue. No response. No breath.

“And if you’re wondering whether I’m ‘as hot as they say,’” she added, stepping just slightly closer, her tone a thread away from venom, “I suggest you test your theory in a combat scenario. I’d love to see how long you last.”

Then she stepped back. “Eyes front.”

The entire group snapped to attention. You felt your pulse in your throat. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. It was like watching lightning strike just beside you. Romanoff turned to face everyone now, still calm, still unreadable.

“I’m Staff Sergeant Romanoff.” she said, tone level, eyes scanning the line. “You’re now part of Echo 9. That means your record matters less than your performance. You are responsible for each other. If you want to act like civilians, I suggest you turn back now.”

No one moved.

“Training begins tomorrow at 0500 (5:00am). Briefing starts at 0430 (4:30 am) sharp. You’ll receive bunks and assignments from base command in the next ten minutes. Hydrate. Unpack. Do not be late.” She paused. “Dismissed.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the base structure, heat swirling behind her in shimmering waves.

No one spoke for a long time. You swallowed, throat dry as bone. You couldn’t tell if your heartbeat was from the sun, or from her.

The base wasn’t much to look at, a sprawl of beige and metal, containers turned into housing, makeshift fences, worn banners catching the wind like tired flags. The ground was cracked and sun-bleached, the heat radiating off the concrete like an invisible second sun.

You followed the thin trail of other soldiers toward the housing row. A clipboard had been shoved into your hands moments after Romanoff’s departure, listing your bunk number and clearance ID. A container near the outer edge. Far enough from command to feel temporary. Close enough to hear the weight in every bootstep.

When you reached it, you paused. The container was basic, standard military housing. Matte green. Bolted shut with a manual handle. But it was yours. At least for now. You lifted the latch and stepped inside. Cooler air hit your face immediately, not cold, but not scalding either. A cheap mercy.

Inside, there were two narrow bunks, one metal locker each, a shared footlocker in the center, and a cracked mirror bolted above a dented sink. Sparse, lived-in, but clean. And someone was already unpacking on the left side.

She was bent over her duffel, sorting through rolls of gauze, small vials, medical wraps, her dark hair pulled into a messy low bun. She looked up when you entered and grinned.

“You must be Y/l/n.”

You blinked. “Yeah. That’s me.”

The girl stood, wiping a smudge off her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m Rae. Rae Bishop. You snore, you die.”

You laughed, tension bleeding out of your shoulders almost instantly. “Fair enough.”

You shook hands, firm, quick. That unspoken military rhythm already forming. You tossed your bag onto the right bunk and began peeling off your outer vest, already feeling a small pool of sweat at the base of your spine.

Rae slid a canteen across the small desk toward you. “You look cooked. Drink.”

You did. It was warm, but water was water. “You infantry?” Rae asked, hopping up to sit on her bunk, boots still on.

“Combat operations.” you replied, settling on your own bunk and unlacing one boot. “Support and recon for Exho 9. You?”

“Medic.” Rae said, tapping the red cross patch on her shoulder. “Second rotation. Got here three weeks ago.”

You raised a brow. “So you’ve already survived Romanoff?”

Rae grinned. “Barely. She’s not as scary when she’s not slicing you open with her eyes. But yeah..she’s the real deal.”

You nodded. You knew that already. The image of Natasha walking through the dust, silencing that joke with only a look and a sentence, it was burned into you.

“What made you volunteer?” Rae asked.

You hesitated for a second. “Wasn’t my first choice. But this unit…feels like it might be the right one after all.”

Rae smiled knowingly. “Same.”

A knock at the metal door broke the moment. Three short raps. You exchanged a quick glance.

Rae swung the door open. Three guys stood outside, dusty, still geared-up, grinning. You recognized two of them from the aircraft. The third held a dented pack of cards in one hand and a pack of instant ramen in the other.

“Y/l/n..” the tallest one said, “we’re playing cards in the rec tent. You in?”

Rae raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Wow, no invite for me?”

“You don’t lose gracefully.” one of them shot back.

You hesitated. The memory of that crude joke on the tarmac flashed in your head. Your mouth tightened slightly, and you crossed your arms, thoughtful.

“I don’t usually hang out with people who make sex jokes about our CO.”

The smiles wavered, just for a second. One of the guys, younger than the rest, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That was Miles. He’s…well. He’s eating dinner alone tonight.”

The third guy nodded. “Look, no pressure. But you seemed chill. No one’s looking to mess around or anything. We’re just…unwinding.”

There was a beat of silence. The hot wind pushed dust across the open door. Inside, the cool air hummed. Then you sighed. “Alright. But if you deal me crap cards, I’m walking.”

Laughter broke out immediately, easy and welcome. Rae grinned and flopped back onto her bed. “Tell ‘em I taught you everything.”

The rec tent was barely lit, strings of mismatched bulbs hung along the corners, buzzing softly. Folding chairs surrounded a center table, already cluttered with cards, crumpled wrappers, and one old speaker playing lo-fi beats someone swore helped with morale.

You took a seat, your body still adjusting to the tempo of the place, the slight vibration of generators, the scent of old coffee, the shift in your nerves from edge to ease. You played three rounds. Lost one. Won two. Someone made fun of your poker face, or lack thereof, and you shot back with a sarcastic quip that made Rae snort water through her nose.

They didn’t talk about Romanoff again. They didn’t talk about war, or blood, or fear. Just music. Home. The taste of actual food. The way sand got everywhere. Laughter felt strange at first — awkward and too loud in the open air, but then it settled in like warmth.

Before you knew it, the sky outside the rec tent had turned from gold to steel blue. Then to black.

0500 Hours

The alarm pierced the air like a bullet. You flinched upright in your bunk, adrenaline kicking before your brain caught up. Your heart was hammering. For a second, you had no idea where you were.

The room was still dark, bathed in faint blue light from the small LED clock bolted to the wall. Your eyes tracked across the plain metal ceiling. The thin sheets twisted around your legs. The sound of Rae breathing across the room. Dust floating through a stream of early light filtering between the blinds.

Then, heat. That dry, ever-present warmth, already crawling in through the container’s thin insulation. The heavy scent of sand and sweat. The sound of footsteps, boots outside the wall. A voice barking out a name. A door slamming.

Camp.

Deployment.

It came back all at once. You exhaled and scrubbed a hand over your face. The ache in your spine was from the unforgiving bunk. The itch on your skin? Dust. Always dust.

You dressed quickly, muscle memory already forming after a single day. Tactical undershirt. Lightweight fatigues. Boots laced to regulation tightness. Canteen clipped, ID tags tucked, comm unit ready.

Rae stirred behind you. “Tell Romanoff I’m alive..” she muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You smirked. “No promises.”

You stepped out into the early dawn air. The sky was a hazy pink, sun just starting to rise over the distant ridges. Heat was already forming, like a warning curled around the horizon.

The training yard was a square of cracked earth and sandbags. Half the unit was already assembled, some stretching, others checking weapons or reviewing briefing notes on slim tablets. Conversations were low, sparse, and cautious.

You spotted Martinez, Johnson, a few others. Miles stood off to the side, arms crossed, avoiding everyone’s eyes. A knot of anticipation hung in the air.

Then.. “She’s here.”

Every head turned. Natasha walked across the yard with zero wasted movement. Black tactical vest over sun-bleached fatigues, combat boots spitting dust behind her. Hair tied back. Calm, controlled. Not out of breath. Not rushed. She stopped dead center.

“Morning.” she said. One word. It hit harder than any shout. Everyone straightened.

“You’ll be split between physical combat, strategy, survival theory, and behavior conditioning. Yes, it’s hot. Yes, it’s early. No, I don’t care. This unit doesn’t carry excuses.”

She turned toward a group of soldiers. “First pair-up. Hand-to-hand.” She scanned them once, then landed on her target.

“Miles.”

He stepped forward stiffly. She waited.

“…Ma’am?”

“I said combat sparring. Step up.”

He did. Hesitant. You felt the buzz ripple through the unit. Everyone knew exactly what this was about. Then Natasha looked at you.

“Y/l/n. You’re with him.”

Your stomach flipped, but not in fear. Your fingers twitched at your sides. Excitement, fire, something warm rising in your chest. You stepped forward, facing Miles.

He frowned. “We’re doing this for real?”

Natasha tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Unless you’d prefer to sit this out.”

He flinched, barely, but got into a ready stance. Defensive. Hesitant. His center of gravity too high. You didn’t wait. You stepped in, low and fast. A feint to the right, testing him. He flinched. His hands came up late.

Then he swept under, pivoted his foot..And stopped. He didn’t finish the strike.

But Natasha did. In a blink, she stepped in from the side, grabbed Miles by the collar with one hand, and drove her knee hard between his legs. The sound he made wasn’t even a word. He crumpled, knees buckling, face contorting in shocked pain as he hit the dirt.

A beat of silence. Natasha turned, looking directly at the rest of the men. Voice like ice melting on steel. “Women are underestimated in combat more often than I can count. Happens in the field. Happens in training. But do it in my unit, and you’ll learn the difference between cocky and unconscious.”

She didn’t smile. Not exactly. Just a slow, razor-edged smirk as she turned to you. “Well done. Switch partners.”

Training settled into a brutal rhythm. Mornings began with sparring and PT, climbing walls, crawling through obstacle courses, sprinting under the punishing heat. By midday, it was tactical theory. Sand-tables, holographic maps, mission simulations. Natasha drilled you on terrain advantage, split-second decisions, blind recon.

“Enemies don’t come at you clean.” she said once, pointer hovering over a digital battlefield. “They come when your boots are stuck in mud and your comms are down. Think beyond perfect conditions.”

Afternoons were dedicated to behavior conditioning. How to read a room. Spot a liar. Break a pattern. It wasn’t just about physical training, it was mental warfare.

One session was held in a metal container rigged with sound loops and flashing lights. Designed to simulate chaos. You had to complete logic tests under pressure.

You nearly failed the first time, until Natasha stood behind you and said, calmly, “Breathe slower. Find the rhythm. You control your mind, or the mission controls you.”

By the third day, you were keeping pace. Faster. Sharper. And more confident. The soldiers around you began to notice. Some nodded as they passed. Rae snuck you protein bars and coffee tablets. Even Martinez, cocky and sarcastic, offered to swap gear tips.

Miles? Still avoiding eye contact. You didn’t mind. Not when every sunrise started with that burst of nerves, and every night ended with sore muscles, heavy lungs, and the knowledge that you belonged here more than you ever did anywhere else.

DAY 6

The room was built to look like an alleyway. Cracked walls. Sandbags. Smoke machines filling the air with grit and haze. Speakers embedded in the ceiling blared distant gunfire and shouting, sirens wailing in timed bursts. The simulation chamber was used for high-stress ops training, strategy under pressure, team maneuvering, and live tactical decisions. Everything tracked. Every shot. Every step. Every second.

You crouched low, rifle to your shoulder, sweat soaking your collar. Your breath was fast, lungs burning. You moved with your unit through the mock-up street, Rae trailing you with med gear, Martinez and Johnson flanking either side.

Target: secure a civilian in the “hot zone” evacuate to the south extraction point. Simple, on paper. But nothing ever was.

You breached the second corner, cleared the breach, and..You froze.

Two silhouettes appeared behind a scrim of smoke. Civilian or hostile? You hesitated. Your fingers tensed on the trigger. Your brain tried to assess. The figures move-

And then everything went to hell. A simulated blast went off. Too close. Too loud. Martinez dropped, “wounded.” Rae got separated. A red strobe light flashed across the chamber, symbolic of a “critical failure” in evac timing.

It was over. Simulation terminated. The smoke cleared slowly, the lights steadying. Soldiers blinked in the false dawn of debrief lighting as the system powered down. You ripped your goggles off, chest heaving. Your hands were shaking. Not from fear.

From frustration. Natasha walked in, tablet in hand. Her expression unreadable. She let the silence linger. Then she looked up, eyes slicing through the group like scalpels.

“Everyone out.” she said flatly, not looking at anyone but you. “Except Y/l/n.”

The others filed out silently. Rae gave you a small glance. Not pity. Just understanding. When the door closed, Natasha walked closer. Not looming. Just…present. You stood straighter, trying to lock your jaw. Waiting.

“I want you to explain what happened.” Natasha said.

You hesitated. “I hesitated at the corner. I.. I didn’t want to misfire. The shapes weren’t clear-”

“They weren’t clear?” Natasha repeated, voice cold. “You’ve run that drill four times. You know the shape of that alley. You know what cover looks like from thirty meters. And you froze.”

You swallowed. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Why?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “I.. didn’t trust myself.” you admitted. Quiet.

Natasha nodded once. A slow, deliberate motion. Then she stepped forward until you were almost eye to eye.

“If this had been real..” she said softly, “Martinez would have bled out before Rae could get to him. You would’ve lost your right leg to that blast. And your hesitation would’ve put your entire team in body bags.”

Every word was a scalpel. No yelling. No rage. Just cold truth. You didn’t speak.

“You don’t get to be unsure out there.” Natasha said. “Not when people are counting on you. Not when seconds mean survival. If you doubt yourself again, do it on your own time. Not mine.”

She turned away. Walked two steps. Then stopped. “But…”

You blinked.

“…you still identified the pattern before the system ended the sim. You saw the angle of the shooter. You started moving to block Rae’s exit. That means your instincts are right. You just didn’t trust them.”

Another long pause. “I want you in my class this afternoon. Behavioral split-second response training. Two hours.”

You nodded. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“And Y/l/n?”

“…Yes?”

“If you ever freeze like that again, I’ll personally send you back home with a thank-you card and a slap for wasting my time.”

Your mouth twitched. The sharpest edge of a grin. “Understood.”

DAY 11

The room buzzed with quiet suffering. The overhead lights flickered in that sickly yellow way that only military bulbs seemed to manage. Dust drifted lazily through the stale air. Everyone was slouched somewhere, against the walls, over the table, heads resting in hands, boots half unlaced beneath chairs. Not a single soul was upright by choice.

You sat near the end of the long table, chin propped in one hand, trying to pretend you weren’t blinking longer than you should.

Your thighs still burned from morning PT. Your knuckles were bruised from combat drills. Your brain was a fog of unfinished sleep and half-digested ration bars. Even your boots felt heavy. Like they’d been dipped in cement.

Rae, sitting next to you, looked dead-eyed at her half-full notebook. Johnson was using his own notepad as a pillow. Martinez had a cold pack wedged under his shirt, muttering something about “inhumane training laws” under his breath.

You were wrecked. And no one dared to say it out loud.

The door opened. And just like that, the room snapped into shape. Natasha walked in with a slow, unreadable expression. She didn’t bark a command. Didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

Her presence alone was a straight line drawn through chaos. Her expression unreadable, calm, but not soft. Alert. A storm in waiting. She walked past all of you without a word and hoisted herself up to sit on the table directly in front of the class , boots planted wide, elbows on knees.

The silence grew dense. Then, slowly, she looked at you. One by one. Not judging. Measuring. You sat straighter. Your heart, despite exhaustion, thudded once. Hard.

She reached for the remote and pressed a button. The screen behind her flickered to life. A drone shot filled the screen, a wide, aerial view of an arid landscape. Cracked land. A village reduced to fragments of stone and splinters. Roofs caved in. A single road, broken with impact craters, carved through what used to be homes.

Everything changed in the room. The fog of exhaustion evaporated. Spines straightened. Eyes locked forward. No one moved. Not even to breathe.

“This..” Natasha said, her voice low, “is the village of Qasira. Forty-seven clicks east of this base. Population, formerly nine hundred. Current? Unknown.”

She let that sit for a second before continuing. “Three days ago, an insurgent convoy passed through the area. They were hit mid-transit. Likely an airstrike from a local faction. Civilians were caught in the crossfire. Local med teams are moving in now. You’re going with them.”

The screen shifted to a satellite map. Pinpoints. Movement indicators. Roads. “This isn’t a combat op. It’s a secure-and-monitor. Your job is to escort, establish perimeter, and provide overwatch while the medics assist the injured and collect survivors.”

Her voice was firm, but there was something in her eyes , a warning, subtle but sharp. “You will be met with three types of people.” she continued. “Those who are glad to see you. Those who resent you. And those who hate you outright. All of them will be scared. Some will be armed. Some won’t.”

Rae swallowed softly next to you.

“You do not fire unless fired upon.” Natasha said. “You do not engage unless absolutely necessary. If someone spits at you, you walk. If someone screams at you, you listen. You are not here to escalate. You are here to protect the people doing their jobs.”

Another click. A street-level image filled the screen, caved-in houses, burnt-out windows, children standing in the rubble, watching the drone.

Your throat tightened.

“This is what real missions look like.” Natasha said, quieter now. “It’s not always bullets and body armor. Sometimes it’s holding a perimeter while someone bleeds out two feet away from you. Sometimes it’s walking past a woman crying over what used to be her kitchen.”

She looked at all of you. And this time, there was no cold edge. Just steel. Steady and unwavering.

“You need to be better than your instincts. You need to be professional, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

A pause. “We leave at 0700 (7am).”

With that, she stood, clicked off the screen, and stepped down. Then, she turned back.

“Gear up. No mistakes.”

The silence lingered after she left. It wasn’t fear. It was something sharper. Something real. You exhaled, slow, as if the weight of the next phase had finally landed on your chest.

Part 2

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[kxsagi]

Hello! Can I request bllk boys with a reader who has respiratory problems and always get tired so easily/can't do much physical activity? I struggle with it and it sucks running out of breath doing basic things 😭 (With Isagi, Sae, Rin, Yukimiya and Reo please 🙏)

“𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲”

a/n: i hope you are doing well! please remember that it doesn't define your worth at all love 🤍

also not sure if you need meds for this, but i added it just in case! 

title was inspired by the song easy by mac ayres highly recommenddd

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, yukimiya kenyu, mikage reo

isagi yoichi

isagi panics the first time he sees you really out of breath, like, full deer-in-headlights energy. 

once he learns more about your condition, he becomes so attentive. 

always walks at your pace, no matter how slow it is. 

“you okay?” is basically his catchphrase when you’re out together. 

offers you piggyback rides constantly (and not even in a joking way). 

turns basic errands into fun slow dates: grocery store run? “let’s stop for a break. snack time?” 

always has water, your meds (if you need any), and a mental map of benches nearby. 

if you're ever frustrated about your limits, he holds your face and says softly, “you’re not weak. you’re just built different, and i love you like this.” 

itoshi sae

sae’s quiet, but you know he’s always observing you. 

doesn’t comment much, but the way he subtly adjusts the thermostat, brings your bag to you, or puts your meds in your coat pocket before leaving the house, it’s love. 

the moment he notices you getting tired, he wraps an arm around you and leads you to the nearest bench or chair. 

“sit down. don’t argue.” 

won’t let you lift anything heavy. like, nothing. grocery bags? no. laundry basket? absolutely not. 

if someone says anything ignorant like “you don’t look sick,” sae will turn and go, “and you don’t look that stupid, but here we are.” 

he doesn’t baby you, but he makes sure you’re never made to feel lesser. 

the calm to your storm when you’re upset about it. 

itoshi rin

rin does not understand chronic exhaustion at first and lowkey feels helpless. 

but he learns fast. and once he understands, he becomes protective in a very lowkey way. 

always walks with you on the side with more shade, notices when you start breathing heavier and immediately slows down. 

gets real quiet when you say you feel useless or frustrated. not because he doesn’t care, but because he’s thinking hard about what to say to make it better. 

his version of comfort is: “you’re not a burden. if anyone says that again, they can talk to me.” 

starts doing light stretching with you just to keep you company, even if he could be training. 

lets you use his chest as your personal pillow when you’re tired (and you catch him softly smiling every time). 

makes you playlists for when you’re resting, all filled with songs that remind him of you. 

yukimiya kenyu

yuki relates to your struggles more than the others because of his eye condition. 

he understands what it’s like to have a body that doesn’t always cooperate. 

“you’re doing amazing,” he tells you even when you feel like you’ve done nothing. 

loves planning soft, cozy dates that don’t take up much energy: bookstores, art galleries, flower markets. 

will read aloud to you if you’re too tired to do it yourself. 

the king of soothing you when you feel bad about missing out on something. “just because your pace is different doesn’t mean you’re behind. you’re still moving forward, love.” 

always has tissues, lip balm, and your meds in his bag. 

his camera roll is filled with sleepy, bundled-up pics of you where he writes lil captions like “my sunshine” or “resting beauty.” 

mikage reo

reo, rich boy with a heart of gold, immediately goes into caretaker mode. 

offers to fund every comfort item you might want: fancy humidifiers, cute inhaler cases, memory foam shoes, everything. 

but more than that, he listens. like, really listens when you explain what it feels like. 

“you don’t have to do anything to impress me. if all we do today is lay around and breathe, that’s more than enough.” 

brings you flowers when you’re stuck at home. 

takes you on bougie slow strolls through gardens or museums because “we’re not here to rush.” 

gets very pouty when you push yourself too far and don’t tell him. “you promised you’d take it easy, dummy.” 

makes sure you never feel like a burden, always a priority, never a problem. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[iconbyunghun]

Pretty doll

Pairing: Jin Hyun Pil x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are his pretty assistant, who has no right to refuse anything he orders you to do.

Warnings: Smut 18+, age gap (early 20s/50s), oral (m recieving), power dynamics, degradation, exhibitionism (kinda)

Word count: 1.2 k

a/n: I watched "Master" a few days ago, and I didn’t have a single pure thought about this man. This is a quick one shot, but I promise there will be many more to come! :)

The deafening cheers and applause of the crowd faded into the distance as you walked down the hallway toward the exit. The echo of the ovation still vibrated against the walls, yet inside you, there was only a tense silence.

At your side, drawing every gaze, walked Jin Hyun Pil. His perfectly tailored suit accentuated his imposing figure. He radiated authority with each step, flanked by his security guards, while you, his pretty assistant, kept pace with precise coordination.

Gone was the charming smile, the image of One Network Inc.’s charismatic leader. Now, his face was something else, serious, cold, calculating. Since you started working for him, you have been captivated by his duality.

"You're coming with me." His voice was an unyielding command, accompanied by a gaze that raked over you from head to toe before he stepped into the car. One of the men accompanying him held the door open to the waiting vehicle.

Without hesitation, you followed him inside. The door shut with a sharp click, and the engine purred softly as the driver received the signal to start moving.

Inside the car, the atmosphere was thick, charged with a tense silence. You sat beside him, a small distance between you, gripping your notepad like an anchor. You were his personal assistant, but from the very first day, he had made it clear that the exorbitant salary and privileges he granted you were not a gesture of generosity for your pretty face and intelligence. He needed you for other things. Things more… intimate.

"How was I today?" he asked with a half-smile, raising a hand to slide his fingers through your hair, idly playing with a loose strand. His tone was light, almost amused, but his dark eyes studied you with an intensity that kept you on the edge of submission.

"Impeccable as always, sir," you replied with a small, timid smile, forcing yourself to maintain composure.

His expression hardened instantly. His fingers closed firmly around your chin, tilting your face toward him.

"I've already told you how you should refer to me in private." His other hand tugged gently at your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze.

A soft gasp escaped your lips. The slight pull wasn’t painful, but the combination of his tone and touch sent a shiver through you. You briefly averted your eyes toward the driver, an older man whose expression remained impassive, as if nothing beyond the wheel existed in his world.

You swallowed.

“Sorry, Daddy…” you whispered. 

His smile returned, full of satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your ear before capturing your earlobe between his teeth, biting slowly, enjoying your reaction. His hand moved down your body with exasperating slowness, sliding under your skirt.

Your breathing hitched.

“Daddy’s had a rough day,” he murmured in a deep voice, his lips brushing your skin. “Why don’t you use that cute little mouth of yours to help me relax?”

Your body tensed.

“Right now?” you asked in a shaky whisper, all too aware of the driver’s presence. “Why don’t we wait until we’re alone?”

His response was immediate and abrupt.

“Are you stupid or what?” His voice turned cold and sharp. Before you could react, he yanked you suddenly, causing you to lose your balance. Your body hit the carpet of the car with a thud.

“I pay you to follow my orders when I give them, not to question me.” His gaze was ice-cold, his patience gone.

Your chest rose and fell with force, the weight of his words settling heavily on your skin. The car continued moving forward, the driver silent, as if the scene behind him was nothing more than a void in the rearview mirror’s reflection.

“I'm sorry,” you hurried to say while your hands moved tremblingly to the zipper of his dress pants. You felt his excitement tightening the fabric and his darkened gaze fixed on you.

He ran his fingers through his grey hair, a mocking smile playing on his lips, before tilting his head and fixing his gaze on you with intensity. He relished how docile you were and how easily he could control you, turning you into a complete mess.

He helped you pull down his pants along with his boxers, revealing his prominent erection. You wrapped your hands around it, caressing him up and down.

“Hey, Dong Ik,” he said loudly, his voice raspier than usual as he addressed the driver. “Could you put on some music?”

“Of course, sir,” came the calm response.

Soft notes of a song you hadn’t heard before filled the car. The volume was set to a reasonable level for everyone inside. You couldn’t help but wonder if he did this with his previous assistants, as both men seemed completely at ease with the situation.

“Are you feeling calmer now?” he asked, running his hands over your cheeks before gripping the sides of your head tightly. You nodded.

“Open that pretty little mouth.” He demanded, guiding you straight to his cock, and without warning, he thrust it deep into your throat, making you choke and suppress a gag before he pulled you away with a laugh of pure enjoyment. “Sorry, baby, but having you on your knees makes me lose a bit of myself control.”

Without answering him, you continued on your own, starting with a lick along one of the veins that ran along his erect member. With your right hand, you held him, while with your left, you massaged his balls. In the short time you had been doing this, he had taught you quite well, and the hard way, how he liked to be touched

When you reached the tip, you tasted his essence concentrated in tiny drops. You took him into your mouth, descending slowly while your tongue danced around him before ascending with intense suction. His breathing became erratic, and a growl escaped his lips.

“What a good little doll I have gotten myself,” he praised, throwing his head back and letting out more gasps.

You continued pleasuring him, and you couldn't help but feel your center wet and in need of his touch. You would never openly admit it, but it excited you to be humiliated by him.

“That's right, my precious slut, just like thaaat.” He commented especially loudly when you took him completely in your mouth all the way to the back of your throat. His hands went back to your head, and he held you like that for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Tears were present in your eyes. Looking at you, he only wanted more of that expression on your face.

He held your head, and as if it were his sex doll, he began to fuck your mouth, your saliva mixed with his own liquids escaping from your mouth, in the car the music mixed with the sounds of wetness, gasps, and your muffled complaints.

When he finally felt that he was about to finish, he pulled out, and you automatically opened your mouth to receive his essence; he caressed himself for a few more seconds before emptying himself on your tongue and face.

He smiled proudly when he saw his work of art, your teary eyes, totally disheveled hair, and swollen lips with drops of his essence all over your face.

“I think you deserve a raise” he commented happily, leaning down to give you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

[takes1]

[final part] asahi x reader grinding

thanks for tuning in :)

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. mutual pining! / mutual!inexperience / skipped!talking phase / mutual lust! / asahi has a crush on you / forced proximity / asahi is hung / premature ejaculation / praise / asahi has horrible endurance / lap sitting / beach setting / grinding with clothes on / implied mutual virginity / asahi is a soft top / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. part one. more haikyuu. got any requests?

Your chest rose and fell quicker, your heart beating harder, your hands twitchy in your pockets. You felt glued to the concrete. You never expected him to catch you so off-guard.

"Was I-," Asahi looked back and forth between your eyes, then down, a little sheepish, "-Wrong, to assume...?"

"N-o," You winced at your terribly huge crush ceasing to be a secret anymore.

"You're not wrong-," When you took a tentative step forward, and he met you in the middle. You were both hesitant to look at each other, let alone do anything else, "If that's what you wanted."

His tone came as a shock to you.

"I thought I made it pretty clear what I wanted."

Every little thing he said or did today rushed through your mind, now laced with the connotation he was trying to communicate the whole time. There wasn't much else to say.

It was funny entering the hotel, just you two, walking as quiet as possible across the vast first floor. You even nodded to the receptionist on your way to the elevator. You only started giggling when the doors closed.

Upon arrival last night, the team had made the delightful discovery that this elevator moved at a snail's pace; Getting to your floor would take at least a minute.

"How long do you think we could stay up here for?" You pressed 9 on the number pad, surprised when you turned and he was closer than you assumed.

He read your shock as disinterest. When he backed up to the wall, reddened at his failed attempt, thinking of a realistic timeline, you closed the distance again.

You were as close as you could get without touching. He had his hands on the built-in railing but didn't lean away from you.

"Maybe..." He looked down at you, words sounding distant as they left his mouth, "An hour?"

Tentative, you watched your own hands place themselves gently onto his big, bulky shoulders. You had been wanting to feel him there again ever since that impromptu hug weeks ago, after a big win against Date Tech.

"That sounds like plenty of time," You kept your voice from shaking by being as quiet as you possibly could.

He seized your wrists and placed your arms around his neck for you, hands flying back to meet your waist and pull you flush onto his front. Your breath stalled when he squeezed you, fingers grabbing as much of you as he politely could.

Your skin was left prickling anywhere he touched.

You weren't sure how this hour was going to go, what you'd do, but you knew you had to start with a kiss.

It was gentle, and soft, and felt like a quiet question- like the kiss itself was asking for 'more, please.'

"Holy shit," You sighed against his pillowy lips. It got so heated, so fast.

You went in for another, then another, and another, and forgot you needed to breathe.

Neither of you were very experienced, but you had the passion to keep trying, to keep making up for it and trying again for each kiss that didn't seem quite as satisfying as you wanted.

Asahi stumbled back with a laugh when you pushed on him- you pressed your lips onto his open mouth and caught a bit of his tongue in the process. It was way hotter than either of you expected.

"Mmn," His little moan into your mouth practically liquified you- he scooped you up in his big, strong arms and you barely moved in time to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were both so surprised at yourselves and each other, but didn't want to stop for anything.

The elevator door opened slow and creaky.

He carried you a short distance down the hall to your assigned room, not his. You tried your luck at sucking on his neck.

"Are we- augh- are we- really doin' this?" He struggled to mumble his words out, keep his wits for the both of you in this painfully public hallway, handle how good your tongue felt right there, and swipe your room card at the same time.

You weren't exactly sure how far he thought 'doing this' meant, but you also weren't sure how far you wanted to go, either. It was a simple, yet powerful feeling. All you could guess was that it was a simple, powerful solution.

"Mm...As long as you're into it."

Your momentary letting up, in order to answer him, made room for the spare second he needed to get inside.

Once you were in, you decided to hop down and kick off your shoes since he seemed so out of breath. But all he did was lock the door, kick a towel under the crack in the bottom, get his shoes off, and pick you right back up.

His voice was rushed, breathy with the need to have you right now. It sounded like he could've been rolling his eyes at how obvious the answer was, "Yeah- I'm into'it."

You yelped and instinctively wrapped your legs around him while he wasted absolutely no time putting you on your back.

It was so exciting that you had to giggle at his enthusiasm, and once again, his ability to throw you around.

"You're so strong," Your eyes danced around his face between messy, perfect kisses, delighted to see that your compliment embarrassed him a little.

His warm forehead pressed against your shoulder with a chuckle, shy and huffy.

Your fingers took every precious moment they could to take his headband off and rake through his long hair, nails across his scalp in the hopes to make him feel good.

"Ohh," His eyes squeezed shut, legs slowly joining the rest of his body onto the mattress. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and pulled away from you.

He sat back on his heels, flushed with the realization that his body was parting your thighs open under him.

Hair a mess, eyes unfocused with a fuzzy warmth to them, jaw tight- he looked completely undone.

"Can I take your clothes off?" It sounded like more of a hushed admission, of sorts, rather than the question that it was. Like he was revealing he'd been wanting to do that for longer than you could imagine.

You had to keep from squealing out the answer- "Yes."

Everything was so quick and distracting that even you forgot you were wearing your swimsuit underneath. He grinned with your shirt still balled up in his fist.

"That's- really cute," His eyes bounced between your tits, starting to pull your shorts off as he muttered to himself, "I guess I would've seen it all anyway, today."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves by not making a big deal of it, "I wasn't gonna wear this in front of everyone."

"You were gonna get in the water with everythin' on?" He grinned and slid to meet you for a hungry kiss, satisfied to hear this was still all for him and no others idiots on the team.

His fingers were digging into your fleshy bare hips, his groin against your needy sex with hardly anything separating you.

Your unruly whine was swallowed up but not ignored.

"You're'sooo perfect," Was a rushed and heady sigh, something in between a whisper and a groan right under your ear where he tried to mimic your unsuccessful attempt at a hickey.

The heat rushing to your face, the dizzying weight of his body, and your feverish desire to have him made it hard to think.

Your breath was tough to catch. A clumsy attempt to take his shirt off was your only solace in the buzz of it all.

You were given a picture perfect view when he sat up again and pulled it from the back of his collar- his lightly flexed arms, the reveal of his strong frame and kinda fuzzy chest made you infinitely more curious. Your hands jutted out to feel him.

You just couldn't help it, "Woww."

He chuckled watching you sit up, hands scouring his body like you were on the hunt for something. You palmed his chest, fingers filled with muscle as you squeezed- his laughter only grew to full volume when you stuck your face between his pecs and nearly knocked him off balance.

"Okay, okay-!" He giggled and rested his hands on your shoulders to pry your off, ecstatic about your obvious fascination.

You wiggled out of this position and met him on your knees for a big, messy kiss. It was starting to feel more real now that you had gotten a bucket list item out of the way.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," You groaned against his lips -still curled in a smile-. You palmed both of his arms simultaneously, then stretched over his shoulders to grab onto his back.

He couldn't have been more amused. It was crazy to think that he didn't understand how hot he was.

"So," His hands, much more reserved, much slower, than yours, spread the bottom of your ass and you were suddenly sucked back into reality, "You must like guys with a lot of muscle, right?"

The span of his fingers meant that some of them were awfully close to the inside of your thighs- he knew it, too. He kept palming you and reaching further into the warmth there.

"Uh-," You lost your breath, arms tighter around him, unsure if you wanted him to feel you or not, yet, "I just like you."

Asahi chuckled at your answer and, buzzed with the preoccupation of how hot and wet his fingers were getting, muttered, "I can tell."

You flinched at his heated words and tore away from him- he let up and was all sheepish, again, "I didn't mean it in a mean way-."

When he held his wet fingers between you, your face flushed at the sight and you had to look away, missing the chance to see him suck all of it off as he settled onto his back.

"I like you too," He addressed your previous admission, placing his hands on your hips as you tentatively made your way onto his lap.

His eyes just drank all of you up, sitting like this. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like it, but it did make you nervous. No guy had ever seen you this undressed.

"Ever since you joined."

"No way," You rolled your eyes, calling his bullshit immediately, "You didn't know my name until three months after I joined."

Asahi grinned, palms sliding up and down your bare thighs. You could feel his cock flex under you and he reveled in seeing your little jump.

"I couldn't remember your name because I got so nervous. I couldn't think when you were around, and I played like an idiot," You grinned at some irrefutable truth in his little confession, "I had to relearn how to be a normal person."

You recalled how mean and gruff he seemed to you as a freshman. He was the only member of the team who wouldn't talk to you. It felt like you couldn't even stand in his vicinity without getting stared down- who knew it was all amicable? It got easier to manage as time went on, especially after he left and came back, leagues more friendly thanks to the new freshman class. But your longstanding crush never wavered; he had always been your type.

"Well," You leaned forward, nose-to-nose with him, twirling some of his hair in your fingers, "You came across as a real big jerk."

It seemed you couldn't just talk to each other. Your gaze grew hungrier. His big fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, hips, and ass.

"Oh, yeah?"

Your lips crashed against each other's again, starving for more; your fingers of one hand were all tangled in his roots, the other free to feel the rest of him.

All you could think about was how big he felt, how it might fit in your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt.

He made the prettiest sounds when you pressed your palm against it- it was so warm, swollen under your touch and you thought of how long he had been hard for, how painful that probably was.

And you were amazed at how easy it was to make him so messy.

Your hand worked back and forth over his clothes- he was getting worse at kissing you because of his lack of focus, so you pulled back a little to look at him.

He was so cute. Brows screwed up at the crude and simple pleasure, pupils blown out and the sounds- shit, the choked groans. Like he was just short of begging.

Your hand dipped to feel him- you wanted to at least see his cock.

"I really like you," He muttered, hot and quick on your ear you almost didn't catch it. "I don't want you to think I'm into you just for--,"

Fingers slipped past his waistband and you barely got a feel- it was burning hot to the touch.

A very cute, unbridled moan got cut short by his awkward laughter. He nabbed your wrist.

"Ah-! Haha," He cleared his throat and let you go quick, "Sorry, I guess- I--,"

He clearly wasn't comfortable with that yet, so you slid your hand back to his tummy instead.

"No, it's okay!" You readjusted to sit on top of his hips, face burning at the pace of it all as you tried to put yourself in his position, "I just got...curious. We can stop there?"

You may have reacted the same if he tried to go that far with you. Everything was happening so fast.

Asahi stammered over himself for a second, face burning darker as he tried to explain.

"Nonono, I-I don't'wanna stop," His eyes kept darting to his print taking up the space between your legs, "I...just..."

It wasn't a malicious attempt to make him reconsider, nor was it trying to accomplish any distraction-like motives, but you found that you just couldn't force your hips to stay completely still when you could feel him pulsing through your flimsy clothes.

And he was perfect. Just a marble statue, really, who you could tell would only age like wine. His strong chest filled and shrank with a powerful shudder. His face looked pained-- his jaw tight and worked, his eyes unsure where to get their fill of you.

They settled for the most part on your hips, slowly raking back, and forth, and back, and forth over his swollen cock.

Part of his briefs sported a darker black from all the precum he was leaking. You desperately wished you could pull him out and use it as lube.

"I don't wanna stop," He said definitively.

It didn't need to be discussed. You ravished in the light of his daunting, but exhilarating attention as you got off just rubbing on his restrained print.

You let your head fall back, praying you looked like some kind of fantasy, and found yourself gasping at the yummy tension building once he bucked against you.

This could work. It was kind of? Like sex. Not really, but it was perfect for two people who weren't ready yet.

With his knees a little bent, and his forearm weighing on your lower back, there was more of an even distribution of work beginning to form. He was gentle and slow with the motion of his hips.

If he looked gone before, he was completely lost in it now.

He followed your natural rhythm without obstructing anything- you began to slowly, very minute increments, feel his hands trembling against you.

"This is--mm, this is'nice," You laughed- it made him smile and you bit your lip to keep from grinning too wide.

His big hands laced through your hair, pulling you down, gently directing your eyes to him.

"You have no idea- ah-h, how...God, how good that feels."

This was all you had wanted to do in that stupid golf cart. You moaned freely into his roughening kisses, swimming in the simple, slick, nonpenetrative pleasure sliding just right against your clit.

"I think I do," You sighed, whine caught early in your throat, "It's-mmmnh-!"

While you had planned on telling him how good it made you feel, you found you didn't have the physical capability of talking that much.

It would've been a tall task anyway with how insatiable his appetite was for your kisses.

"Damn-," His groans were deeper, needier, "You sound- ahh,"

Those big, rough hands were scouring up your sides, past your bikini top, grabbing as much of your breasts as he could. He was getting so rough, now- like he was searching, prodding, grasping for more of you.

"So-! Ah- Hot-,"

It was harder keeping up with his intensity, but you tried, enthusiastic and buzzing with his praise.

He felt amazing, but it was starting to seem like it felt better for him.

His breathing was hotter and heavier. It was turning you on to no end, and one of the only tangible encouragements you had, so you kept up what was already working.

"Mmn-h," He sighed. At this point, with his grip stronger than the rock of your own hips, he was using you as some sort of toy.

You thought back to practices where you were handing him a towel, or water, and how he struggled to thank you, breathless and flushed and sweaty. How often you pretended for many nights that he had been made that way, just for you, and not the sport that brought you together.

"Augh- fu-ck!" He whined, loud, and curled a little forward as if he'd gotten punched in the gut- he wasn't kissing you anymore, but his mouth was open, so you weighed him down and stuck your tongue inside.

You couldn't recall any other time he had ever said 'Fuck.'

That last buck of his hips took the breath out of you. A sharp moan at the perfect friction racked through you and spilled onto his lips.

But, suddenly, it was more teeth than lips that you were trying to kiss.

You pulled to look at him and, however steamy that wince on his face was, it confused you. You took a short breath to ask, in the midst of all the panting, but he muttered:

"I think, I-," He squeezed his eyes shut with the humiliating realization. The next word out of his mouth so quiet you didn't understand he said until you looked down. "Came."

You were sitting back on his lap, both palms covering your bitten, swollen lips, eyes wide at the semi-clear mess painted on his tan stomach.

Your heart was still pounding, you were so wet it was slick down your upper thighs, and looking at the vulgar, intimate sight before you made you want him even more.

"Are you okay?" Was all you could think to ask.

He laughed, "Am I--? 'Am I okay'- Yeah," He sighed, one more disgusted look down at himself, "I'm fine."

You were trying to be gentle, especially careful to not laugh with him, "...You don't seem okay."

"That's- it's- just never happened to me before," He stumbled over his words again, palm sliding over his side so he didn't drip onto the sheets.

There was so much of it. Did you really feel that good to him? You didn't hear him apologize past all your loud thoughts.

"That's so hot..." You said on the tail-end of a wistful sigh.

You had never seen somebody's expression change so quickly before. He started off looking like a kicked puppy, once it sunk in that you didn't find him the most abhorrent creature on the planet, he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

"Is there usually-," He flinched, wide-eyed when you traced your fingers on his glazed stomach, "This much?"

Amazed, he shook his head.

You were teeming with pride and he was coming back around his insecurity to meet you.

"Let's keep going."

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. request box.

[insomniadreamzz]

Yours Forever

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader smut

Mentions of breeding, soft love making, crying, emotional, use of strap on, praising, mentions of pregnancy, impregnating

You and Jinx have been married for a while now. It’s the most beautiful thing that ever happened to you. You are in a very happy relationship and you‘re looking forward to many more years with your wife.

This evening you and Jinx already were in bed, being all cuddled up but could feel that there was something in her mind. You opened your eyes and shifted a little, seeing Jinx looking up at the ceiling. „You okay?“ You ask and her eyes met yours, smiling softly as she moved her hand gently to your side, caressing you. „I am. I just can’t really sleep.“ She mentioned and that made you sit up a little, having an idea. „Maybe we could do something to make you relax.“ You mentioned as you caressed her thigh, feeling her tense up at the touch, she had the same thing in mind as you, maybe that was the actual reason she couldn’t sleep. She was horny but didn’t want to wake you because she thought you are already asleep.

„Alright I guess I do need to let my energy out on you.“ She teased before getting up from the bed, taking taking out the strap from the headboard she loved to use on you, your cheeks already heating up.

„Jinx I-…“ You started but she shut you up by placing her finger on your lips. „Shh…of course I won’t use it before making you ready.“ She reassured you before she undressed you, her lips moving down your body, making you hum softly, enjoying the touch of her soft lips against your skin.

„God I love you…“ You said softly, making her feel even more excited to go further down on you, her tongue now being busy with pleasuring you as she eats you out, soft moans escaping your lips, loving the sweet sounds you are making.

„Please…please fuck me already…“ You whined softly, feeling shivers down your spine every time her tongue flicks your clit, you really wanting her strap now.

Jinx sat up with a smirk, licking her lips as if she just got the best meal since forever, her eyes looking down at you with a needy expression before she put on the strap. „Oh I will give you what you want don’t worry, I will take care of my beautiful wife.“ She said so softly before rubbing her strap against your wet folds, making you gasp softly, grabbing the bed sheets as you spread your legs wider, showing you really needed it.

She didn’t want to let you wait any longer, slowly sliding it in, watching your expression as she finally entered before beginning to thrust her hips in a slow pace, making sure you feel every inch of her stroking your insides, making you moan.

Jinx leaned down, kissing you while she kept on thrusting into you, her hands grabbing yours to hold you as she pinned you down on the bed, wanting to be as close as possible to you. „I love you.“ She whispered against your lips, a soft moan escaping her lips. She really did love you and she made sure to show it to you this night, being gentle and loving towards you. Usually she wasn‘t that gentle and more of a tease during sex but today was different. Her thrusts becoming a little faster, filling up the room with wet sounds your pussy made as she hit your sweet spot so well, making you let out whiny moans at this point.

„God…I wish I could breed you. I wish I could make you pregnant, my beautiful wife, I love you so much.“ She said with a soft voice, close to your ear. Her words making you feel soft and a little emotional, her next words making your eyes wet with tears, happy tears. „You would be such a amazing mother…“ She mentioned, her voice so soft between her soft moans.

„Jinx…you make me all emotional…“ Your voice almost cracking. jinx cupped your cheeks so gentle, looking into your eyes with her beautiful pink ones, a lustful and emotional gaze. You could see her eyes being filled with happy tears as well. „It’s okay baby…I feel the same.“ She said before leaving some sweet little pecks on your lips.

„Mhhn…you want my cum too don’t you? You want it so bad, wanting me to get you pregnant mh?“ She moaned out softly, her thrusts becoming deeper, hitting you just at the right spot as you couldn’t control your moans and gasping at this point. „Y-Yes, yes please give it to me, make me pregnant baby.“

Your words drove Jinx crazy, really wanting to do it if she could. „Mm..yes take my cock.“ She sped up more, wanting to make you cum, wanting to make you at least pretend. Your arms being wrapped around her neck now, keeping her close as her movements became more faster and harder, making you moan into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. „I am close, I am so c-close.“ You whine and Jinx didn’t stop. She wasn’t even thinking about it. „Yes, ah-…take my cum baby ngh!“ She groaned as she came as well only by your words and sweet moans, you cumming shortly after, legs shaking and a loud moan escaping your lips, your nails diging into her back, almost scratching her but Jinx didn’t mind at all.

After you both calmed down again, she pulled out, making sure to take care of you now after that emotional love making, keeping you close to her chest as a little sob escaped her, her face nuzzled into your hair. „Fuck…I wish it was real…“ She mumbled with a little raspy voice, your arms only hugging her tighter. „Jinx…I-I am ready. I am ready for being a mother and having a child with you.“ You whispered, shifting a little so you could look at her, seeing tears running down her cheeks and you couldn’t stop your own tears as well.

„R-Really?“ She asked, wanting to make sure this was real and it was. Your hands cupping her cheeks to kiss her, wanting to show her again how much you love her with a deep but loving kiss.

„Yes my love, let’s do this.“

[rafeandonlyrafe]

heavy heat

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, like twooo?? mentions of daddy

“okay, you're absolutely doing it on purpose now.” you cross your arms with a slight stomp of your foot.

rafe looks up, confused. “doing what babygirl?”

“teasing me! first you took your shirt off and now you're just�� sitting there!” you gesture towards rafe. “in those gym shorts with your legs spread like that.”

“it's like 100 degrees out, y/n.” rafe laughs at your evident frustration. “do you want me to overheat?”

“no, but we are inside with air conditioning! and you're still basically naked with your freaking… balls! on display!”

“want me to close my legs then?” rafe waits for you to answer as you pout at him.

“well… no.” you groan, frustrated.

“what do you want me to do then princess? or what would you like to do to me?” rafe raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response.

you huff in frustration and stomp closer to rafe until you sink to your knees between his thighs. “i hate you, you know.” you say, pulling at his waistband until he lifts his hips and allows them to be pulled away.

you growl when you realize rafe isn't wearing any underwear either, his cock sat soft on top of his heavy balls, practically begging for relief.

“hey.” rafe takes your chin in his hand right at the moment you attempt to make contact with his cock. “you're being a brat. you need to apologize first then suck my dick.”

“sucking your dick is my apology.” you try to move forward, but rafe squeezes your face tighter.

“you said you hate me. you think being a dirty slut and sucking me off is gonna make up for that? come give daddy a kiss.”

you hate looking your prize right in the eye only for it to be snatched away, but you know rafe won't let you do anything until you do whatever he deems to be proper.

you move to straddle his thighs, in very minimal clothing yourself. rafe keeps your chin in his grip until you press your lips against his.

“‘m real sorry daddy.” you kiss him over and over again. “i don't hate you. i love you.”

“i know, baby.” rafe nods. “you're just being all bratty because it's real hot outside. it's got you pissy. that's okay though, you can still suck my dick.”

“yesss!” you cheer, hand reaching down to grasp his now half hard cock as you kiss him again. “thank you.”

you slide off his lap and back onto your knees, sighing when they hit the plush carpet.

you keep your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you kiss up and down his length, feeling him harden against your lips.

“feels so good, sweetie. but you can't take forever because rose will be home soon.”

you let out a little grunt in frustration, wanting to take your time, but also not wanting to move into the bedroom, not when rafe looks so good right now, looking down at you with his hair falling on either side of his forehead.

“once you're done here we can go upstairs, yeah? fuck you in the cold shower since it's so hot.”

you nod rapidly, loving when you branch out to have sex someplace other than a bed, even if it is just in the attached bathroom.

“alright, good girl.” rafe nods at you, a silent cue for you to get moving as you wrap your lips around the head of his now fully hardened cock, letting it slide against your tongue as you lower your head until your nose touches his skin.

you sit there for a moment, despite knowing you need to keep your pace fast, enjoying the way rafes cock fills your mouth and throat, leaving you to think of nothing else but the way he's sitting heavy on your tongue.

you bring a hand to fondle his balls, gently squeezing them as your head begins to move up and down in slow, steady motions.

rafe rests a hand on the back of your neck, a steady presence pushing down, keeping your movements deep.

you can feel your throat constrict around his cock but manage to avoid gagging, wishing you had all the time in the world to swallow his cock and toy with him.

“keep going, baby. come on.” rafe encourages you.

you begin to move faster, head moving up and down with rapid speed, wet noises and glugs spreading through the living room.

rafe smiles down at you, glad his planned worked. he knew you wouldn't be able to resist him shirtless for long, especially when he sat with his legs spread, thick, muscled thighs and calves on display.

“gonna cum in your mouth baby, yeah?” 

you nod rapidly, not pulling off of rafes dick as you persist, focusing on getting him off as you feel his cock swell inside of your mouth, pushing further against your tongue until he releases, long ropes of cum shooting down your throat, which you are happy to swallow.

you pull away once he's done, using you tongue to clean up his cock, getting it ready for you to use in the shower once he's had time to get hard again.

“is that what you wanted princess?” rafe cups your cheek, tilting your head up, but you don't really see him, eyes glazed over in pure bliss.

“mhm.” you hum, nuzzling into his thighs. 

you're quickly snapped out of your state when you hear keys in the door, jumping up as rafe pulls his shorts back up to cover himself.

“shit, that was close.” rafe laughs, pulling you to sit on his lap as rose walks in.

“hey.” she says dismissively, arms full of bags.

“good afternoon, rose.” rafe says with a laugh as you roll your eyes at him.

“come on, let's go upstairs.” you try to stand up, but rafe pulls you back tight against him, his torso sheened in the slightest layer of sweat.

“not yet.” he hums, burying his face in your neck. “let me just enjoy holding my girl for a minute.”

[shalomniscient]

feixiao x reader [nsft utc]

"w-when i said we should do cardio after you finished, i didn't me-- ngh--!"

feixiao cuts you off with another sinful roll of her hips, bullying the head of her thick cock already buried full in your squeezing cunt against that one spot that has your toes curling. your thighs tremble as she has you face down ass up on the bed, her large hands squeezing the meat of your hips appreciatively. you have to crane your head to the side to look over your shoulder up at her, and her expression is pulled into one of shameless smugness, a fanged grin wide on her lips.

"what was that?" she teases, snaking a hand down to tease your stiff clit with her thumb. you groan at that, half-muffled against the sheets, and her ear twitches at the sound. "c'mon, you're not complaining, are you?"

with what little brain capacity you have left, you huff, inner walls squeezing around her in a way that has her sucking in a sharp breath. "n-no," you manage, fingers curling into the sheets as she languidly moves her hips, her hips clapping against the back of your thighs. feixiao chuckles, leaning down to kiss between your shoulder blades, along the curve of your spine. you shiver at the feeling of her warm breath against your skin, and then the plushness of her lips, reflexively pushing back against her as you chase more of that sweet friction.

"that's what i thought, princess," feixiao croons as she bends over you like a crescent, one hand sliding over the back of yours and intertwining your fingers while the other continues to work lazy circles around your clit. she's a lot more relaxed this time, some of her energy having been worked off by her training. she's indulging fully in the way your velvety cunt wraps snug around her shaft, fluttering and clenching each time she draws back only to snap back inside. she noses and nips along your shoulders and nape, sucking and biting little marks into the skin there. she can taste the tang of your sweat salty on her tongue, and she licks a stripe along the column of your neck just to hear you whine. the sound goes straight to her cock, twitching inside you, and her ears press flat against her skull.

despite the slowness of her pace, it isn't very long until you're squirming beneath her, the muscles of your abdomen flexing and jumping as your orgasm creeps up on you. she feels it too, a coil low and heavy in her gut and a pressure under her skin trying to expand outward. she trades her long, deep strokes for sharp grinds against you, keeping her cock snugly buried in your tightness. it allows her to target your g-spot with ruthless efficiency, pulling hoarse moans and cries from your lips. her chest is pressed to your back now as she leans as far forward as she can to chase your mouth, eager and needy to swallow your moans in a bruising kiss, although it's much less of a kiss and more of a dance of teeth and tongue. your breath mingles with hers, praise intertwined with breathy pleas of her name, and she swears upon the stars she's going to give you what you want. everything, anything you want.

"that's it, princess," she grunts as she feels you cum around her with a low cry into her mouth, "that's it. pretty girl, so pretty for me, so perfect." your pleasure-addled noises slowly taper off into sweet begging for her, for her to fill you up and cum inside and god she wonders if you know the things it does to her. you probably do, on some base physical level, which is why you so often mewl it to her even when your brain is leaking out through your pussy around her dick. feixiao ruts harder against you, a rumbling growl building in her throat as she feels her balls draw up tight and her heart skip several beats in a row to the time of her thrusts. when she finally cums she sinks her teeth into your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but certainly hard enough to leave a mark, and you must enjoy it because you cum again, pussy squeezing and fluttering around her length like you're trying to drain her dry. her hips stutter of their own accord, fucking deeper into your addicting heat before she feels the edge wear off, and she slowly lowers herself down on your back, her face pressed against your spine as she pants for breath. she doesn't pull out, not yet, she knows you don't like it when she pulls out too quickly, so she stays within you as you both recover, idly smoothing her hands up and down your sides. when she hears your breathing even out, she presses another kiss to your sweat-damp skin.

"alright?" she asks, and you only make an affirmative noise in response. she laughs a little breathlessly, rolling over with you in her arms so she's not smothering you with her weight. the movement jostles her cock in your cunt a little, making you whine, but she soothes you with another kiss to your shoulder. her hand sneaks down to brush over the bulge she forms in your tummy, and she feels that heat pulse low at the base of her spine, but you're so thoroughly fucked out as it is that she decides to keep it to the back of her mind. for now.

(maybe it'll be a different story when you both make it to the shower. whenever that is.)

a minute later, her wristwatch beeps. right, she'd forgotten to take it off. she glances at it--then grins like a cat more than a fox; three perfectly filled cardio rings shine innocently at her from the screen. she knows what she's doing for cardio from now on.

[puffins-muffins]

Disruption

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader

Word Count: about 4k

Summary: Ray’s been buried in work for hours, but you’ve been craving his attention and you know exactly how to get it.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please, minors DNI!! (unprotected - be responsible!) P in V sex, cursing, established relationship, thigh riding, very soft Dom!Ray, orgasm control, light degradation (dirty talk)

A/N: Y'all, this man has the patience of a saint - but he's finally making his debut!! 🙌🏻 Just a really quick shoutout to the best bestie ever, Laur (@laurfilijames)! Because we wouldn't even have this if it wasn't for her! ANNNND the title idea/brainstorm sesh!! My beautiful, brilliant minded friend - thank you for getting me through this one. 👯‍♀️ I love you endlessly!!! ✨All feedback (reblogs, comments, likes) is much appreciated and encouraged!! ✨ Enjoy babes! 🩷

Ray’s been at the dining room table for hours. Papers spread out; laptop open - some godforsaken ledger pulled up with a scowl carved into his face. Perfectly content to ignore the way you’ve been pacing around the house like a restless cat in heat.

You tried reading, scrolling, even taking a long bath to distract yourself. But he hasn’t looked up once - not when you padded past him with wet hair and freshly lotioned skin. Not when you slipped into one of his oversized cardigans - soft, worn-in wool that smelled like him, and nothing else but a pair of lace panties.

None of it worked.

Each time you walk past, he’s there - so focused, so calm, so fucking hot about it. And you’re bored, dripping into your panties because he hasn’t touched you all day.

Now you hover at the edge of the room, arms crossed beneath your chest, one hip cocked out, watching him. The deep blue walls and low pendant lights bathe him in warm amber, highlighting the sharp lines of his face and the steady, graceful rhythm of his pen against paper.

The soft grey pullover sweater he’s wearing clings to his back, the fabric stretching over lean, hard muscle. When he reaches forward or shifts in his chair, you watch the defined lines move beneath the material - all quiet dominance and control.

He has the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing lean forearms threaded with veins and the solid weight of his favorite watch. His glasses sit perched low on his nose, his brow slightly furrowed as he makes notes on whatever spreadsheet he’s buried in now.

You sigh, loudly. Theatrically. But Ray doesn’t even glance up.

However, you do notice the faintest hesitation in his pen. He doesn’t react outwardly, but the subtlest shift sets across his toned shoulders, telling you he’s not as focused on his work as he’s pretending to be.

You can’t help the way your lips purse, just a little, at the realization. A quiet spark of satisfaction curls at the corners of your mouth.

Smirking, you saunter towards him, each barefoot step slow - letting the cardigan swing open just enough to tease. You stop behind his chair, stealing another moment to admire the shape of his back. There’s something so goddamn beautiful about the way he works - you could watch him like this for hours, casually running empires from the dining room.

His rich scent hits you as you approach - a hint of cedar from his cologne, clean detergent, and the lingering warmth of musk that always clings to him. It sinks into your lungs, leaving your head spinning in the best kind of way.

You shift in beside him, close enough to be felt, your voice soft and spoiled, almost petulant as you speak. “You’ve been working forever.”

He hums, his pen still moving. “Because someone has to make sure the money’s clean, darling.”

His pinky ring catches the light as he writes, glinting with every movement - precise and practiced, like everything he does.

Reaching out, you trail your finger slowly across his back, gliding from one broad shoulder to the other. The soft knit of his sweater shifts beneath your touch, and you feel the tension ripple beneath it.

“Are you insinuating that I’m dirty, Raymond?” you tease, your voice dipping low as you lean down, lips brushing his ear. Your teeth graze the shell of it, just a nip, soft and delicate - before pulling back with a wicked little smile.

Ray pauses at that, setting the pen down with a soft click, and lifts his head. He looks at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes dragging slowly over your body - your bare legs, the cardigan slipping low, the peek of lace beneath. He blinks once - then again, fast. A tic you’ve come to recognize. It’s how he reins himself in when he’s trying to stay composed.

Something he’s struggled with more since you came into his life, but not in a way he minds.

He turns slowly in his chair, finally facing you - gaze pinned, taking his time, indulging in your sight like it’s his reward.

His hand drags thoughtfully across his beard, like he’s weighing something - his fingers disappearing for a moment in the thick, meticulously kept scruff. Then he tips his chin and gestures toward his lap with a nod. “Come here,” he commands.

You bite your lip, eyes wide and a little too innocent, even as you let the cardigan slip a touch lower off your shoulder - just enough to offer a better view of your breast. Your tone is soft and sweet on the surface, but it’s laced with mischief. “Thought you were working.”

“I am.” His voice drops, low and sharper now. “Don’t make me ask again.”

A soft, excited meep slips past your lips - something small and involuntary, because you love it when he gets like this. You obey instantly, straddling his lap without hesitation, settling yourself over one thick, tailored thigh.

Ray raises an eyebrow when he realizes where you’re sitting. “What exactly are you doing?” he asks, voice edged with intrigue - his eyebrow still lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's this close to smiling.

You rock your hips once, just to test him, and the pressure is perfect. Denim against lace. His firm muscle pressed right where you need it.

Your arms curl around his neck, fingertips brushing the nape of it, leaning in close. “Getting creative,” you purr, dragging your lips over his jaw. “Since you’re too busy to fuck me.”

Ray doesn’t move, but his hands come up, gripping your hips. And then his thigh flexes beneath you, just once - enough to make you feel it. He watches you like something primal and a little bit entertained, a faint sound catching in his throat.

“Go on, then,” he orders, his tone is dry with a tinge of amusement as he indulges you. “You’re already making a mess of my evening. Might as well make a mess of my fucking trousers while you’re at it.”

Glancing up at him through your lashes, your mouth curves into a smile that’s playful, sheepish, and just a little smug. Ray hates mess. Hates anything unclean or out of order. But you? He wants the mess when it’s yours.

You start to move slowly at first. Hips rolling in lazy motions, grinding yourself down on the solid muscle of his thigh. The friction is divine, and every drag of lace against denim makes you press down harder.

He’s focused, tracking each twitch of your lip, every flutter of your lashes, all the tiny reactions in the way you rock against him. You let out a breathy moan, soft and helpless, grinding down exactly right - and his composure falters. His jaw tics, his long fingers flex against your hips, like the sound and feel of you is almost too much for him.

Your eyes lock - his are dark and calm, yours wide and hungry. He doesn’t blink or move, just holds you there on his leg with his firm grip and consuming stare. Your pulse hammers in your throat - you shouldn’t like being watched this much, but you do. There’s something raw and electric about the way he looks at you.

Your pace picks up as your orgasm builds, pressure curling deep in your belly. The cardigan slips off one shoulder with the increased movement, your body flushed and glistening with heat underneath it. Ray tilts his head slightly and adjusts his glasses like he’s refocusing.

Both hands move up your body, one arm wraps around your waist, keeping you balanced. The other slips beneath the wool draped around your unexposed shoulder, guiding it down your arm.

Your chest is bare to him now, your nipples stiff from the air and your own need. He studies you with quiet obsession - his hand slides up to cup one breast fully, his thumb brushing over the swollen peak while he watches your breath hitch at the contact. He squeezes, enough to make your body jolt, then repeats the motion on the other side. The sound he pulls from you is almost pathetic - high and fragile enough to make him smirk.

“You know how good you look like this?” he praises, slate-blue eyes locked on your chest as his thumb teases you again. “These perfect tits out. Cunt soaked for me.”

His cardigan pools around your elbows as your pace stutters, hips grinding faster and harder as you chase the pressure. Every movement of your clit sweeping over his thigh sends pleasure rolling through you.

Desperate, broken noises spill from your lips, gasping as your grip tightens on his shoulders, nails biting into the soft material of his sweater - completely losing yourself on the muscle he’s tensed just for you.

“Can’t help but act up when you want my cock, can you?” he growls low, his thigh flexing hard beneath you again.

You whimper, your head shaking from side to side with hopeless want. He can see how far gone you are - pupils blown wide, sweat clinging to your skin, your pink mouth parted in a silent, pleading gasp. But you don’t let go. Because he hasn’t told you to.

And you’re waiting - just like he’s taught you too.

You’re grinding frantically against him now, breath catching on every exhale, lost in the burning haze of need. Your orgasm is just out of reach, held hostage by the absence of his permission - while he watches - composed, relishing in it.

Ray is savoring this - the way your release belongs to him. He loves to own these moments, making sure your orgasm isn’t just something you take, but something he gives.

And then his voice slices through it all. “Do it,” he instructs, quiet and absolute. “Make a mess, love.”

His order is your undoing - your hips jerk forward, involuntarily, chasing that final bit of friction. The tension coils so tightly it’s nearly unbearable - your breath shatters, legs trembling as your entire body locks up in ecstasy. You cry out, grinding against him as your orgasm burns through your core, blurring your vision and leaving you slack with pleasure. You soak his thigh completely, the mess is hot and unfiltered, gushing through the lace and darkening the fabric beneath you.

You’re panting against his chest, eyes fluttering open slowly, still floating in that haze. And when you finally look up at him, his gaze is dark and heavy with desire - like he’s drinking in the sight of you ruined and breathless in his arms and loving every second of it.

“Needy little thing,” he remarks, not even trying to hide the amusement in his tone at your behavior.

Ray’s hand moves to your jaw, fingers curling gently around it as he guides your face closer to his, leaning in to press a kiss to your damp temple.

He shifts beneath you then, lifting you off his lap with gentle care. You whimper softly at the absence, legs still shaky, and he steadies you while you find your footing.

That’s when you see it, the shape of him - hard, thick, and straining beneath his trousers. Your breath catches, and you nibble on your lips as your thighs instinctively clench. You're still aching, still needy, because he hasn’t fucked you properly yet.

But Ray knows this, and without a word, he reaches for the cardigan still hanging from your arms. He slips it down slowly, knuckles grazing your sides as the wool glides over your skin, removing it and folding it over the back of the chair - neat and methodical, just like him.

With a quiet shift, he removes his glasses - holding them delicately in one hand - while his other bunches the fabric of his sweater between his shoulder blades. In one smooth motion, he pulls it up and over his head, muscles flexing as golden skin stretches across his torso. His chest is broad, lean, and defined in a way that’s always present beneath whatever crisp layers he wears. His stomach muscles contract with the motion, and as the fabric clears his head, it tousles his perfectly styled hair - leaving it just slightly disheveled.

He drapes it over top of the discarded cardigan, still holding his glasses, still watching you, before he slides them back on. His eyes trail down your body, devouring every inch of you standing there in nothing but those lace panties, chest flushed from release, plump lips parted, legs pressed together like you’re trying to hold in what’s left of your composure.

Ray looks down at you for a moment longer, like he can’t quite believe how pretty you are like this. His hand lifts, brushing the pad of his thumb slowly across your bottom lip, feeling the softness. He watches you like he’s starving, the quiet intensity in his eyes makes your pulse stutter. Your mouth parts, and you take his thumb between your lips - just to show that you’ll let him do anything.

And then almost like a switch, his expression changes, eyes darkening with intent as he instructs, “Turn around.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation.

He places one hand between your shoulder blades and guides you forward until your bare stomach meets the edge of the table. His palm flattens gently against your back, and with that same calm control, presses you down and bends you over without a word of resistance.

You brace yourself on the table, breath shallow, chest rising and falling against the cool wood. Behind you, there’s the quiet clink of his belt coming undone, the low slide of leather through denim - the sound alone makes your stomach flip.

Just as your breath steadies, you feel him at your hips, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He drags the lace down slowly, letting it slide over the curve of your ass, your thighs, until it catches around your ankles. The fabric is damp, clinging slightly from how soaked you are, and you feel the low rumble of approval from his chest as your foot moves to kick them aside.

He pushes your legs further apart with a nudge of his toe, causing you to gasp softly. But you move easily and eagerly - parting your thighs wider for him, desperate to be filled. The cool air against your bare cunt only intensifies the ache between your legs.

The heat of his body crowds in around you as the weight of his cock brushes your inner thigh. He guides himself through your dripping folds, dragging his tip slowly between your swollen lips, smearing your release all over his length. His precum mixes with you - warm, sticky, and lewd.

One slow roll of his hips, and he’s pressing inside you - holding, letting you feel the stretch begin. The first few inches make your knees buckle. He’s thick and unforgiving, filling you up like it’s the first time all over again. You clench around him, greedily trying to take more, but he holds steady - giving you only what he wants.

Then he sinks in - and the most delectable, shameless sound escapes your body. Ray grunts at the feel of you, his hand coming to your hip, holding you firmly as he starts to move.

He fucks you with long, deep strokes - dragging the length of himself all the way out before thrusting back in, a bit harder each time. The pressure, the fullness, the overwhelming movement of him, slams into you all at once.

His grip tightens around your waist, one hand trailing slowly up your back, firm and steady, pinning you to the table.

You whimper, fingers digging into the edge of the table - no matter how many times he fucks you, no matter how wet or ready you are, the feel of him inside you always leaves you wrecked. So much and not nearly enough - an exquisite kind of ache.

A moan tears from your throat, loud and greedy, while Ray sets his pace - punishing and devastatingly precise. The table shifts beneath you, legs creaking in protest, and somewhere under your cheek, you feel papers slipping - documents he’d been buried in all evening, now pushed askew by the force of your body jolting against the wood.

“This what you needed?” he taunts, his voice a mixture of gravel and silk. “After all that whining - this what you were after?”

You nod, gasping his name as he drives deeper, harder, each thrust stealing the air from your lungs. His own breathing grows heavier, but his control never wavers - one hand stays locked around your waist, the other ghosts up your spine.

“Listen to you,” he utters, dark and amused. “Can’t even take a proper fuck without crying for it like a filthy thing.”

A high pitched whimper tumbles from your lips at his words, mouth open against the table, fingers still clawing at the edge for something to hold onto while he drills into you - measured and merciless.

Ray goes on, his breath brushing across your skin. “Couldn’t behave yourself. Grinding this cunt all over my fucking thigh, desperate for anything I’d give you.”

His fingers slide up the back of your neck and tangle into your hair, curling tight - not forceful, but to keep you right where he wants you. He leans in until his mouth hovers at your ear, the heat of him sending goosebumps down your spine.

“But you like being like this, don’t you?” he rasps, his voice rough and raw.

Another thrust and your voice stutters from your throat as he fucks into you like he owns you, hitting your g-spot, over and over, making your legs quiver under the pressure of it, your body clenching tight. You’re dripping for him, so wet he buries himself in your drenched heat, every thrust slick and loud.

He pants, “Soaked and spread out for me,” hips snapping forward again, “My perfect, messy girl.”

You sob out his name, wrecked and breathless - his only response is another relentless thrust of his hips and a low snarl. You feel him everywhere - wrapped in your hair, pressed along your spine - mouthing filth into your skin like its devotion.

He straightens up behind you while his pace quickens, skin on skin echoing off the walls. You gasp, your head turning just enough to look over your shoulder - and what you see nearly undoes you all over again.

Ray’s brow is furrowed, jaw clenched, sweat beading along his temple. He’s flushed, focused, and fucking you so purposeful, it could only be him. Without breaking his stride, he lifts one hand to his face, slipping his glasses off.

He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, a low exhale slipping between his clenched teeth. Then, hurried, he slides them right back on. You watch his lashes flutter once, then twice, and again in quick succession.

Because he needs to see.

Needs to watch the way he sinks into you with every push - how soaked your cunt is, how you clutch around him like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

The sight of him above you, bare-chested and sweating, muscles flexing with every snap of his hips, working his cock into you - steals the breath straight from your lungs and makes your head spin with how utterly gone you are for him.

You feel it building again - quick and heavy - your body still strung out from riding his thigh, the teasing, the stretch of him. Your clit throbs, your arousal making a mess of both your thighs and the table beneath you.

“That's it,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride. “Squeezing me so good, going to milk every drop out of me.”

You nod urgently, hips jerking, the tops of your thighs bumping the edge of the table, his name slipping past your mouth in broken cries.

You can’t wait - not this time.

“Please… please, let me! I need to come, Ray - please!”

You’re begging before he even gives the word, too desperate to hold it in, too strung out to care. You typically know better, but right now, all you can do is plead.

Your desperation punches right through his composure. He groans, low and ragged, his usual soft tone completely abandoned. And that’s when his fingers slide low - finding your clit, rubbing it just right, coaxing your orgasm forward while his cock pounds into your perfect spot.

You cry out for him - broken and high - as your orgasm slams through you like a wave, your vision going white at the edges. You pulse around him hard, soaking him all over again, the slick sounds between you turning obscene.

But Ray doesn’t stop.

His thrusts keep coming, dragging you straight into overstimulation. Whining, you tremble beneath him as your body jerks, raw and ruined - tipping past the edge until you're spiraling all over again.

He groans out, pace faltering, hips snapping faster as he loses his own control. “Fucking hell - look at you,” he pants. “Can’t stop making messes all over me.”

You’re still pulsing around him, fluttering and tight, and it tips him. With a hoarse sound, he drives into you one last time and spills deep, flooding you with his release. You feel every throb of it, every warm pulse as he fills you with his cum, groaning again, hips rocking slowly, like he can’t stop, like he needs to feel every last drop sink into you.

His movement softens, breath ragged against your back as he stays buried, grinding lazily through the aftershocks. With a final exhale, he lets his weight settle over you gently, his chest pressed to you, his body flush with yours.

His lips land on your shoulder - light and slow - kissing you there once, then again - a little lower, a little longer. The brush of his thick beard against your skin is warm and scratchy, pulling you gently into the afterglow.

You shift slightly beneath him, and he finally, gently pulls out - his softening cock slipping free with a low groan, followed by the slow warmth of his release trickling down your thigh.

He presses a final kiss to your shoulder, then lifts up from you just enough to move. One hand stays on your back while the other slides around your waist.

“Easy now,” he soothes, voice low and spent.

With a careful grip, he helps you upright, guiding your body back against his chest, steadying you as your shaky legs try to find themselves again. His arm wraps fully around you, keeping you close.

You lean into him, flushed and breathless, your skin damp, a gorgeous grin spreads across your lips - it’s lazy and satisfied, like you’ve just been thoroughly, completely fucked out of your mind.

Ray glances down, catches the look on your face, and shakes his head with a soft, incredulous laugh. “Christ, love. You act like this wasn’t your plan the second I opened my laptop.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence - but the mischief in your eyes gives you away completely. “It wasn’t!” you protest, far too quickly - your voice softening, sweet and smug, before adding “…But you left me unattended.”

Ray lets out a quiet breath as he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to the space between your cheek and your ear - softly inhaling your scent, a private little indulgence.

“I ought to fucking know better,” he mutters against your skin, but here’s no bite in it, only fondness and amused surrender. The kind of affection reserved for someone who keeps getting away with it… because he wants them to.

As he steps back, his ringed hand slips from your waist to your ass, delivering a firm little swat that makes you gasp and laugh.

“Minx,” he mutters dryly under his breath - like its fact.

And fuck if you don’t already want to do it all over again.

[asxgard]

twice | [2/2]

Dr. Frank Langdon x f!Resident!reader

part one: getaway car

Summary: Sometimes it’s the second time where you get it right.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve enjoyed Frank and the angst💜thank you for the likes and comment on the last part!!

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: angst, mild smut (MINORS DNI), p in v, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies

not beta read

You met in a tangle of limbs once you were inside Frank’s apartment. Hot mouths and wandering hands, all the pent up emotions finally boiling over. It felt good, treasuring his lips on yours, your hands tangling in his hair.

It felt exhilarating to be wrapped up in him, for it to not be all in your head. To be wanted by him equally had warmth buzzing in your chest.

He led you into his bedroom, and you pulled at his shirt until it was on the floor. Yours followed with vigor, each of you exploring the new territory of skin. His mouth found yours again and you moved to lay on the bed, pulling him with you.

Frank felt good, all the tension making you feel even the lightest touch like your senses had been dialed to eleven. He paved a way and pleasure burned in his wake. Lips on your hot flushed skin, biting and sucking on the column of your throat while you wrapped your legs around his hips.

Pleasure coiled tightly in your abdomen, winding tighter with each frantic drag of Frank’s hips. To want to rush and savor the feeling had a flurry of thoughts invade your lust driven brain. To ask him to slow down or speed up while you moaned underneath him. He stole the words from your lips, driving forward in slow thrust, that were forceful and rough and had you seeing stars. It was fast and rushed, but the pleasure wound deep.

You cursed when the coil finally snapped, whining out a chant of his name, and Frank claimed every bit of it. His pace picked up and grew sloppy, while he groaned into your shoulder, hips stuttering to a stop.

Wrapping your arms around him to hold him to you, you looked into his eyes, and found something that scared you. Not just desire satiated, but a longing looking for a home.

When Frank pulled out of you, you laid side-by-side, breathing in tandem and trying to catch your breath. You also tried to gather your bearings, think of what you were going to do now that you had given in.

“This was…” Frank swallowed, sitting up. “We shouldn’t have…”

Hurt bloomed somewhere deep in your chest. “They say all the best mistakes happen at least twice.”

He looked back at you, lips twisted into a frown, “I don’t want this to be a mistake.”

You blinked at him, hope creeping back in. “We should slow it all down.”

He gave an agreed nod, “Yeah, take our time. I don’t want to rush anything.”

You thought you definitely had rushed a few things, considering the soreness blooming at the apex of your thighs. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it.

“What’re you doing on Saturday?” Frank asked after a few beats.

You looked over at him, “Only trying to catch up on chores.”

He smiled softly, “Would you wanna go out?”

“I’d love to.”

—

The first shift back after your night with Frank felt like you were an intern all over again, constantly checking over your shoulder and trying to play it cool. No one on shift could find out, you had decided, not until you were back on stable ground.

No one even knew you had broken up with Andy yet — and you were very interested in not becoming part of the Pitt gossip. You knew that once someone found out you were single again, the betting pool would start.

Taking it slow was the best course of action — you were freshly single after all. Jumping right back into something before catching your breath was not likely to be the wisest course of action. Despite the fact that you knew it was Frank that you wanted.

McKay approached you first, “Still trouble in paradise?”

You hummed, “Paradise of one, and no troubles.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Oh. I’m sorry.”

You offered a half smile, “It was for the best.”

Frank approached with an easy smile, “So, can you help me in South-15? Want your opinion on a patient.”

McKay looked between you two and heat rose to your cheeks.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Frank looked at her, “Oh, didn’t Robby call you to triage for something?”

Smooth, you thought, trying not to smirk at his flimsy excuse.

McKay’s eyebrows came together, “He did?”

Frank nodded, “He said it was a good teaching moment or whatever.” He gestured for you to follow him.

You smiled apologetically at her before following after Frank.

“That was painful, Langdon,” you sighed, “thought you could be much more subtle than that.”

“I’m the king of subtlety.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Right, of course, your majesty. I’m sure McKay thought that was perfectly normal.”

“Robby did need her in triage.” Frank supplied with a shrug.

“We’re gonna have to be more careful. I don’t want to be tangled up in gossip.”

Frank gave a sharp nod, “Right.”

“Anyways, the patient?”

—

If anyone — namely McKay — had caught on, they had been very discreet about it. You tried your best to answer questions without looking dodgy, and said even though you were single now, you were committed to your residency.

Part of you didn’t want to hide anything — you certainly weren’t ashamed of it — but you did fear the judgment. Of how your eyes had wandered while you were with Andy, and how they had wandered to your chief attending of all people. Perhaps there was a bit of shame lingering in your gut for how everything happened.

You should have broken up with Andy months ago, and instead you strung him along hoping something would change without putting in any effort to change it. Or fix the parts you knew were broken. You hadn’t even warned Andy of the fact that you felt something was broken — not that it would have mattered much. Andy never cared to get his hands dirty, or become emotionally vulnerable. It was destined to fail no matter what you did, but you let it suffer longer than it should have.

Frank seemed to feel your hesitation during your first date, tucked away in a corner of a nice Italian restaurant while your eyes kept floating back to the door. Like you wanted to run and hide.

“We can take this as slow as you need to.” He said, offering a reassuring smile.

You smiled despite the tight feeling in your chest. “I just don’t want to ruin it before it truly starts.”

He paused for a long moment, “So I won’t let you. These won’t be dates, just friends hanging out. Until it isn’t.”

The barbed wire curling around your ribs loosened considerably.

“Until it isn’t.” You raised your wine glass and lightly clinked it with his, making it feel more like a promise. A vow.

It calmed your racing mind to think of it as more of a “when” then an “if”. An inevitability.

“Thank you…we should just take it slow, you know? I don’t want you to feel like a rebound.”

“Can’t feel like a rebound if we’re just friends.” He smirked.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, “You take all your friends to fancy Italian places?”

He shrugged, “Only the pretty ones.”

“Careful, Frank, that sounds like flirting.” You said, hiding your growing smirk.

“Just playful.”

“I’m calling HR.”

He laughed and all the tension eased. It felt normal. Like nothing had truly changed — it was just Frank and it was just you. While sexual tension lingered, that too, felt normal after living with it for close to a year. You could work with this, give yourself time to mourn the relationship you had left and feel secure enough to start a new one.

—

The shame ebbed away slowly, and your hesitation seemed to go with it. Frank was more than patient with all of it, which felt like more than you deserved — but as he had explained it, he had waited a year for you, and he could wait a little longer. While the shame parted, some anxious thoughts took their place, worried you were beginning to string him along, too.

You were able to wade through the sea of your uncertainties slowly, and the nights out with Frank seemed to make it easier. You both settled back into your friendship, and despite occasional side-eye from McKay or Mohan, everything was going smoothly.

Like usual, most of your coworkers departed from the bar and left you and Frank alone. It never was intended to be the last ones remaining whenever there was a group hang out, but you couldn’t say you were displeased. You couldn’t say you didn’t linger either, hopeful for more alone time with him.

You sipped your drink, hoping it would help your nerves. “So, are you free on Saturday?”

Frank looked over at you and gave a sly smile, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and huffed, “Trying to.”

He grinned, “Yeah, I’m free.”

The tension holding up your shoulders slipped away, “Cool. Good. Yeah.”

Since months had passed from when you had broken up with Andy, you felt no reason to hide what was now blooming. Aside from the professionalism you held yourself to, you allowed yourself to be less concerned with subtlety. Sneaking glances and PG flirting, letting touches linger just a bit longer than you would have.

Everything was settling into place.

You had been the one to ask Frank out, but he came to pick you up, dressed in a navy blue button up and dark grey chinos. It did wonders for his eyes, and you heart nearly skipped a beat.

This time, it felt right. The only nerves in your system were normal for first dates — or the second-first date it actually was.

“Thank you…for waiting.”

He smiled softly at you and grabbed your hand, “You were the right person to wait for. Usually it’s the right person that’s hard to find, so getting the timing right felt a whole lot less complicated.”

It warmed something in your chest.

“Timing is always the hardest thing to get right.” You agreed.

The first time you had become interested in Frank had been the wrong time. Like the saying went, “right person, wrong time”. Your first date had been filled with shame and anxieties over things you couldn’t change.

Sometimes you just needed to try something twice before you got it right.

He kissed you tenderly and you allowed yourself the time to savor it.

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