#what does the m stand for tho

[nerice]

chensoman anime is so overproduced....

[procrastinatingattorney]

seeing bad 3//h characters takes fueling my motivation to write fic lmao

[coconut530]

BAKED EGG 💙🦾🤖‼️❤️

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

[gladiatorcunt]

Art seems like such a sub, like he’d be so down pathetic when he sits between your legs, back to your chest while you give him an hj. He whimpers while you whisper dirty things in his ear and shakes more with each pump OOH I NEED HOLY WATER 😭

he gives switch vibes with a sub lean for suuuuuuure 😮‍💨

cw: 18+ mdni, handjob, sub!art, set more in the college era, reader’s a switch too btw but art makes them feral, very loving tho, taking care of him after a tough practice, afab reader

“That’s it, just lie back on me. You must be feeling so sore.” You coo, caressing his biceps and getting into position on his bed.

You recline against the wall and open your legs. Art can’t hide the way his eyes light up as he eases onto the bed and swiftly turns around, resting his back against your chest with a soft sigh. You pick up on the groan he attempts to stifle in his palm, knowing how his muscles be absolutely aching right now.

It’s a big deal for you to show that you support him by showing up to his games and practices, so that’s what you doing earlier. You’ve always admired his determination when it comes to tennis, so you don’t mention that losing a college game isn’t the end of the world. Still, you won’t deprive yourself of the eye candy that comes in the form of your boyfriend sweating and grunting as he practices his drills.

Once it was over, he bounded over to you with a tired grin and jokingly pushed your face away when you tried to kiss him. “Angel, i’m all gross now.” He’d laugh, and you’d shut him up by licking some of the sweat of his cheek.

“Did I do good today?” He asks and looks up at you with his big eyes.

You’ll never not be grateful that he seeks out your approval like a dog with a bone, because you’ve never been so proud of someone in your entire life.

“You always do the best, babe.”

Art blushes and tilts his head back onto your shoulder. And for a cliché moment time stand still, the sunset outside casts an orange glow over the room and the two of you. Your boyfriend looks beautiful like this, eyes shut in exhaustion and nestled in your arms.

But you have other plans for the evening than just admiring your boyfriend, there will be plenty of that later during pillow talk.

Art cracks his eyes to see your hands trail down his arms to end up at his crotch. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t squirm as much as he usually does, but he turns his head to nuzzle your shoulder.

You soothingly murmur to him, “My boy worked so hard today, i think he deserves a reward, don’t you?”

“I want whatever you have to give me.” He genuinely smiles into your skin, shifting his hips to push up against you palming his bulge.

And it’s true, he’d throw his head back like a whore and moan unabashedly no matter if you were edging him with a vibrator of if you were gently grinding your fat ass against his dripping cock.

You teasingly squeeze his clothed bulge and then dip your fingers under the waistband of his white boxer briefs. Thank god for the fact that Art likes to strip down as he soon as he gets back to his room after practice.

“Lift your hips for me, baby boy.” You tell him with a nip to his earlobe.

He sighs again as he gives you the suitable free space to push his underwear down enough to free his cock. It’s so long and pretty, such a good size too. Flushed blush pink at the tip and veiny, your mouth waters but giving your boyfriend head is a reward for a different day.

Art whines when you get your hands on his bare cock, “You know ‘m sensitive, feels so good already.”

“But your tears are so pretty when you’re overstimulated.” You peck his temple and lean your head on top of his, curling your hand around the base of his dick and steadily beginning to pump him. “You should be happy to cum as much as you want, sweets.”

He whimpers and spreads his legs over yours. You hook your feet around his and keep them there.

Pearls of precum bead to the tip of his cock, making the slide easier. You grip him tighter and move your wrist in quick circles as you speed up your thrusting.

“Oh- F-fuck!” He keens, latching onto your hips and arching his back against you.

“Shh, if you can’t handle this how are you supposed to handle my pussy? It’s so much tighter than my hand, baby, you’ve felt how warm and wet it is.”

He cums embarraingly quick when he gets like this, all doped up on how you make him melt. It’s adorable and a huge ego boost, but he can only cum inside you so much before he’s out like a light.

Art gasps at the mention of his treat, and awkwardly twists his torso around to face you, “I can handle it, can i have it now? Please please please please.”

“I don’t know…” You hum, pretending to consider his begging.

You clasp your fingers around his leaking dick and thumb the tip, spreading the precum. You fuck his length with your fist and you’re going so fast, you’re making a ‘thwop! thwop! thwop!’ sound.

“I think I want you to cum just like this, love.”

Art keens as you furiously jack him off. You rile him up by whispering in his ear.

“Got me so hot watching you today. Seeing the sweat on your body when you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face, i wanted to ride you into the ground.”

Art gapes, trying to kick his legs out on reflex but your ankles over his keep him right where you want him. He screws his eyes shut tightly and moans in between his babbling.

“Unh- unh- ‘s so good, gonna cum, can i cum? Please say i can cum, ‘m gonna burst- FUCK!”

You don’t know who’s crying more, Art or his cock. He’s leaking so much that you had to concentrate or you’ll lose your grip.

You don’t let up until he’s heaving a strangled cry and shooting his hips up, spilling on and over your hand like a fountain. He gets so sloppy with it, fucking himself with your fist through the aftershocks.

“That’s it, such a big load for me. I bet you were aching holding all that in, baby.”

And he’s so gorgeous, mouth open wide and tugging on his hair in random intervals. You grab his face with your free head and rub your thumb over his cheek. You let him come down at his own pace, and when he focuses his pretty eyes back on you, you bring your sticky hand to his mouth.

Art cleans his own mess, maintaining eye contact with you. The fierce tomato red blush he’s sporting deepens. You wink at him and slurp up an equal amount of his cum, like a couple sharing a milkshake in an old fashion diner.

[rafesproperty]

BLOOD PACT 🩸 Jealous!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Feel like this is something Rafe (especially S2 Rafe) would 100% pull after being jealous and high out of his mind. He’d make you swear you are his, he’d insist on connecting your blood with his to seal that promise.

Warnings: blood (duh😭), open wound, drug usage, Rafe’s possessive af

» masterlist

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You were chatting with your friends, enjoying a party at Tannyhill. Parties there were never chill ones, 'cause Rafe was the one throwing them. Most of the people there were high and drugged out of their minds, so you preferred to stay out of trouble, hanging out with your girl friends and not getting wasted.

Rafe always had his eyes on you tho. He was selling coke to people and messing around with Kelce and Topper, but he always knew where you were, who you were talking to, what state you were in. Partially because he was so damn possessive, mostly because he wanted to make sure you're safe.

So it was to no surprise that he stormed over the second he saw JJ making his way over to you. "Fuck off Maybank," he shielded you with his body before JJ even got a chance to say something to you. You tried to get a hold of Rafes arm, to calm him down a bit, but he didn't budge, his eyes blown and fingers twitchy, mind foggy from all the lines he already snorted tonight.

JJ frowned when he noticed Rafes state. It genuinely baffled him, how someone like you could be with someone like him. "Does he hurt you?" JJ mumbled out, alcohol blinding his own mind, his question clearly directed at you even tho his eyes were locked with Rafes.

"Fuck did you say?" Rafe shoved him, JJ shoved him back, Rafe hit him, JJ hit him back, both landing some serious hits to each others face. The rest was a mess, JJs friends pushed Rafe off him when he was starting to get the upper hand, and you finally got a hold of him, holding his shaking arm with both your hands, praying he'll just stay with you and not beat all of them up.

"Rafe, baby, let's go, please," you pleaded and he took one look at you, blown eyes meeting your worried ones and he knew he'd do anything for you right now. He gave a quick nod, grabbed your hand and dragged you to his room, slamming the door.

"What the fuck are they even doing here?" Rafe mumbled, finally realising that JJ was at his party. "'m gonna kill them," he snarled, pacing, making his way to the door again but you jumped in front of him, holding his face, forcing him to look at you.

"Rafe, please, 'm here with you, 'kay? Stay here." You pleaded again and your touch on his face had a calming effect on him, so he rolled his eyes but gave a nod, hoping Kelce and Topper will kick the Pogues out.

"Fuck," he whispered and pulled away from you, still pacing around the room, his whole body tense and shivering, "shit, the fuck was that? I would never hurt you." He grumbled, panicking because of what JJ said. Drugs fogged his mind and images of you leaving him suddenly flooded in, images of that Pogue dragging you away fogging his judgement.

"Rafe—“ "Fuck."

"Rafe!" He froze and looked over at you through glossy eyes. You walked over to him again, grabbed his hands into your own and rubbed calming circles into his palms. "Breathe, 'kay? I don't know why JJ was there, but it doesn't—“

JJ. He hated the way his name rolled off your tongue, the rest of your words getting drowned by his thoughts again.

His mind was racing as he sat you down on his bed, running a hand through your hair. "You're mine, right? For good, right?" He asked, standing over you, panic evident in his eyes. You wished you'd see his thoughts, but you couldn't make any sense out of him. He was usually so confident in your relationship, bragging to everyone about you, showing you off, holding you close, you hated the way the drug affected his mind.

"Of course, baby," you ran your hands down his chest, trying to soothe him but he stepped away again, not registering your touches.

"Prove it," he mumbled and suddenly stood still, eyes burning through you. You frowned. He needs a proof? You felt offended, honestly. But then again he wasn't thinking straight, so you gave him a nod, hoping it would finally calm him down.

He watched you and nodded back a few times, "'kay, 'kay," he started to search through his drawer, mumbling something.

"Alright," he said and you flinched when you finally saw what he was holding in his hand now, the blade reflecting back some moonlight from his window.

"Rafe—“ "Don't worry," he whispered ever so gently and sat down next to you, "won't hurt you,” he promised, his free hand squeezing your leg in a comforting manner, and you relaxed a bit, holding eye contact with him. His pupils finally stopped shaking, his eyelids heavy now.

"I love you," he mumbled, and leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against your skin, "wanna be with you for good, baby, 'kay? You're mine," his grip on your leg became harder but you let him, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I love you too Rafey, you know that, just me and you, alright?" You were brushing his hair with your fingers gently, looking at him. His eyes landed on your lips for a few seconds before he captured them in a messy kiss.

"Yeah," he mumbled and brought the knife to his palm, "we do this, you know 'll take care of you, alright?"

You gave a nod, ready to do anything for him as he ran the blade through his skin, leaving a red cut along the way. He didn't really react in any way, numb to any pain from the intoxication.

"Here," he reached for your hand, and noticed you were shaking, "shhh," he cooed, and his thumb gently caressed your palm before he ran the blade through your skin too, but your cut was a lot smaller, not as deep, and he kissed your cheek gently when you winced.

"Atta girl," he mumbled more to himself and brought your injured hand up, holding his own to yours, eyes locked there. "Swear to be mine, to stay with me? Never leave me," he said desperately, and you nodded immediately.

"Yes. Swear to be mine, for good?" You asked and he locked eyes with you.

"Always was," he mumbled, "but yeah. I do." He connected your hands, his fingers locking with yours, drawing soothing circles with his thumb when you felt the sting of the wound rubbing against his.

It was like something switched in him, he leaned over you, pushed you back, your hands still connected as he kissed you hungrily, teeth clashing with yours and his tongue slipping into your mouth, claiming you.

You kissed him back, moaning softly, biting down on his lower lip. He pushed your hand into the pillow next to your head, still rubbing your skins together, connecting your blood into one.

He wasn't thinking when he let go of your hand and cupped your face in his hand, smearing some of both of your blood on your jaw.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

My inbox is always open if you have any specific Rafe requests in mind! 💕

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

So, that deja vu fic got me thinking.. and what if katsuki has a childhood friend (obvi friends w deku too) where he is always trying to impress her and class 1-a notices or ( if you’d like them older ) the agency notices and starts betting on when he’ll confess to her. turns out, she actually confesses first and everyone is happy (and slightly disappointed… nobody got their money) 😋😋

Also, when i saw the notification “@cashmoneyyysstuff started following you” i have never hit a follow back button so fast 😭🫶

Remember you’re amazing, take care of yourself, drink water, stay safe, and know that you are loved ❤️

bet on it, bet on it !!

there's definitely something going on between you two, and your classmates are determined to figure out when it'll finally happen

a/n: WAAAA @itzjustj-1000 this is soo cute ! especially since katsuki being a loser n tryin to impress us instead of just confessing is honestly adorable. ALSO ALSO ur LITERALLY THE SWEETEST !! ur the loveliest it's a given i had to follow u !! i tried to honour ur request as best i could, i hope you like it ! also say it w me yall: WEEWOOO WEEWOOO CHILDHOODFRIENDS TO LOVERS ALEEEEEERRTTT(yall r forcing my hand atp (not that im complaining tho))

fem reader, katsuki is a whipped little loser, katsuki likes getting praised by reader but acts like he doesn't challenge (fails miserably), kaminari n sero are little shits, m*neta (he doesn't say anything creepy don't worry <3) everyone is in their 2nd year in this one. lemme know if i missed something else !

for as long as izuku midoriya could remember, you and kacchan have always been a packaged deal.

deku remembers all the way back in primary school, how kacchan would bend over backwards to impress you, spending his days trying to win your praise like he was collecting it. whether it be showing off how good his reading skills were, or showing off his newly acquired quirk to you at any given chance. (away from the eyes of the teachers, of course)

or even with silly things. like the time he showed you how long he could hold his breath underwater. it didn't matter, as long as he could show it off to you, he would.

deku remembers how pride would fill his childhood friends face, cheeks practically glowing and a smile basically reaching his ears. a simple "woooah, you're so cool kacchan !" had the boastful blonde giddy for the entire day, chest puffed out as he walked ahead of everyone, with you right next to him, of course. (you were the only one worthy enough to stand by his side after all)

and though he spent his time trying to win your praise, he also needed your attention constantly. katsuki constantly demanded your attention. he's the only one who's allowed to sit next to you in class, you're always the one he picks first when it's time to pick teams to play dodgeball. he's your partner for every project and you're the one who walks beside him when you and your friends go venture out in the woods to go out on your adventures. and even though they would usually take place in the park, katsuki always claimed he'd be the one to protect you if anything were to happen.

as kids, deku was probably the only one who noticed how hard katsuki tried to impress you.

and he's probably the only one to notice how he still does it now.

"sooo...kacchan totally has a thing for yn, agreed ?"

"mhm. definitely."

"yup."

"'m suprised you just noticed that now, kaminari...actually i'm not really suprised." jirou drawled, twirling one of her earphone jacks around her finger.

okay, so apparently he isn't the only one who noticed.

kaminari pouts "i noticed ! i noticed, like, ages ago !" he huffs into his folded elbows on the desk " i just wanted to see if you guys did !"

"you'd be stupid to miss it." sero cuts in smoothly. their grouchy homeroom teacher somehow ended up absent, leading to an impromptu free period. which in turn caused for loads of gossip he had somehow gotten roped into. kirishima, kaminari and sero were talking about you and katsuki, happily chatting off about something they couldn't hear from where they were sitting.

"maaaannn, bakugou's way too lucky, scoring such a pretty girl. what's he got that i don't ?!" kaminari whines. kirishima shushes him lightly, afraid to rouse the attention of a certain blonde they just so happened to be talking about

"now that i think about it.." sero wondered, leaning onto kirishima's shoulder "midoriya, you guys are childhood friends, right ? have they always been..." he cuts himself off, pointing over at you both with his chin for midoriya to look back. ".. like that ?"

you're chatting about something that's apparently funny or exciting, with katsuki listening along attentively, his head resting in his palm like he's admiring you. his full focus entirely on you, as it usually was.

you're using your hands a lot while you're talking and deku recognizes it as the thing you do when you've gotten to the juicy part of the conversation, deku almost wishes he could listen in, then remembers it's not good to be nosy and shakes the thought away. every once in a while katsuki interjects with a subtle smirk on his face and his remarks have you either giggling or playfully pouting at him unable to hide your smile. the playfulness in his heavy lidded red eyes remains at any reaction you give him, though. kacchan's worked on his poker face over the years but it seems he can't control himself when it comes to you.

izuku realizes he's been openly staring for too long and quickly turns back to look at sero who raises an eyebrow, awaiting a response.

izuku chuckles to himself "yeah, pretty much." he hums, playing around with the ends of his tie as he speaks.

"oooouu~" kaminari sings, suddenly lifting his head up from where it was hidden into his shoulder with a sudden burst of energy, startling kirishima. "juicy details about kacchan, i'm in !"

"i don't know if it's exactly 'juicy'" izuku sweatdropped, chuckling awkwardly. "but kacchan and yn have always been really close. when we were younger, kacchan would always be seeking out yn's attention. he'd be really possesive..or protective over her, i guess ?—it was all pretty harmless though." he recounted, smiling softly at his childhood memories nostalgically pouring into his mind.

both kirishima and sero let out quiet hums when he finishes while denki simply pouts "s'not as juicy as i thought it would be" he huffs petulantly, receiving a knock on his head from jirou who hisses a "he told you that, idiot"

kirishima places his head into the palm of his hands and sighs dreamingly "man, that's so cute. bakugou's been a major softie for yn for so long.." he clenches his fist and izuku thinks he sees a little tear in his eye "so manly !" he exclaims through his sharp teeth.

"yeah, i don't know if 'manly' is the word i'd use to describe someone who's been whipped for so long and still doesn't have the balls to confess" sero ribbed, snickering to himself with denki joining in shortly after.

"hey, don't be assholes !" jirou shot "i think it's kinda cute y'know ? not really..manly..but—cute." she said.

"how much you wanna bet he's not gonna confess until graduation?" kaminari challenged.

"wouldn't put it past 'im." a voice suddenly chimes in. the five of them all turn their heads left, right then down at the voice that came from none other than mineta, who had somehow wormed his way into the conversation.

"and what the hell do you think you're doing sneaking into our conversation, freak" jirou sneers, glaring down at mineta who had already dragged his chair over, including himself into the group.

mineta decides to ignore jirou as he places his arms onto the desk seriously like he's imitating some type of mafia don. " bakugou's never gonna confess any time soon, he's too much of a pussy" he waves off nonchalantly "i bet he won't even have done it by the time we've finished school ! "

" and i bet you wouldn't say that to his face !" kaminari guffaws and the purple haired boy sputters. izuku can't hold back his grin as he watches them bicker.

" kacchan's always been pretty..sure of himself" he settles "i don't think it'd take him that long to confess" he guessed, pressing his thumb onto his chin "though maybe the fact that he's so sure of himself could hold him back.."

ah, there he goes again.. the rest of them thought as they watch midoriya babble on and on into theory land.

denki suddenly slams his fists on the desks, startling everyone. he sucks in a breath "alright ! i bet a thousand yen and the entirety of my lunch box that bakugou won't confess by the end of this year !" he exclaims, not too loud but loud enough so everyone in the group could hear him.

"oooouu~ what're we betting on ?" mina chimes in, suddenly appearing behing jirou and in turn startling her. she flashes her a little glare causing the pink haired girl to offer a weak apology and a hug.

"kaminari just bet a thousand yen and his lunch that bakugou won't confess to yn by the end of this year" sero smirked, clearly enjoying the drama

" ou, that sounds fun ! lemme join in too !" the pink skinned girl pleaded giving her best puppy eye and pout combo.

"sure ! just don't come cryin' to me when you lose" kaminari agrees, playfully jabbing at his friend.

"this is so stupid. i'm not betting money on this.."jirou scoffs rubbing at her temple. "c'moooonnn, don't be chicken, jirou ! " denki whines

"mhmm, c'moonn jirou give into peer pressure !" mina joins in, wrapping her arms around the purple haired girl and swaying her side to side.

jirou groans before finally conceding "..five hundred yen. that's all you're getting from me." she concludes sourly crossing her arms.

" i'm gonna go with kaminari's and say his balls won't drop 'till graduation" sero says simply, smirking almost mischieviously at the display of sudden chaos. he looks a little too pleased, izuku sweatdrops.

"i'm not betting on my bro, that's so unmanly." kirishima refused " i say just let them go at their own pace" he finishes, receiving a nasty look from his chaotic classmates.

needless to say kirishima gave in to peer pressure soon after, offering a modest 1,100 yen by this summer for his friend to confess.

"well i stand on what i said, i don't think he has the balls to say it at all. and i put that on all the money in my pockets ! " mineta proudly spoke.

"how much is that, like, one fruit roll-up ?" mina deadpanned, not missing a beat causing the group to erupt in laughter. mineta's objection's falling on deaf ears.

meanwhile, katsuki notices you've stopped talking all of a sudden. it takes him by surprise as you were so into it a minute ago. "what's up ?" he asks. his question snaps you out of your trance and you jump slightly, turning back to look at him "oh , nothing ! they just seem to be having fun " you gasp, a smile crawling up on your face as you look back at your friends having a good time.

katsuki on the other hand has a slight pout forming on his face, displeased at how his loud mouthed friends distracted you from your conversation. and from him he thinks, but that makes him feel like a snot nosed little kid again and his expression turns even more sour.

"tch. the fuck are those losers so loud for" he grumbles under his breath. you catch it though, and you giggle. his eyes brighten and his brows unfurrow the slightest bit when he hears it.

"don't be such a buzzkill katsu, s'not their fault you're no fun." you jest, chuckling to yourself when he scowls at you.

"fuck off ! m'not a buzzkill" he rolls his eyes, huffing indignantly "an' i'm plenty of fun" he finishes grumpily. you laugh a little more, covering your mouth with your hand when you catch a peak of him narrowing his eyes at you making fun of him. he simply rolls his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. he'll let it slide, he always does with you.

"right, right. my apologies, sir dynamight" you chuckle, bowing slightly at him, he huffs out a laugh "that's sir lord explosion murder god dynamight to you" he snorts. you throw your head back and laugh and katsuki feels the same pride he used to feel when he'd found something cool to show you back when you were brats. his stomach feels fuzzy and his head feels clouded the way it used to when you'd offer him your big, bright sparkly eyes and a "you're so cool kacchan !""

god, it never failed to remind him how much of a whipped loser he was for you.

and unfortunately still is.

you scoot your chair a little closer to his and katsuki has to use all of his might not to blush at the sudden proximity, as miniscule as the distance between you both was to begin with.

"well okay then, sir lord explosion murder god dynamight" you say rapidly, laughing to yourself. katsuki let's out a breathy chuckle, it's cute. he's cute. " i'm sure it doesn't mean much, but i at least think you’re plenty fun to be around"

katsuki feels his heart skip a beat too many.

you whisper, like it's a secret. you're in your own little corner while all your classmates are chatting away yet you say this to him like it's something between you and him. batting your eyelashes up at him. god, it's like you're out to kill him and honestly katsuki thinks for a second he wouldn't mind dying by your hand.

he's such a whipped loser.

he can't think straight. you're sitting so close to him, you're lips are glossy from that lip gloss you always have on you. you smell nice, katsuki feels like a creep for smelling you like you aren't a breath away from him.

"yeah, well.." he utters lowly. he licks his lips, feeling himself grow dizzy as he watches you watch the movement intensely and swallows. his adam's apple bobs and he can feel himself blushing like an idiot. " i don't think you're all that bad either" the end of his sentence comes out a little breathy, he barely realizes he's speaking. like his body is deciding for him, he doesn't mind much.

you give him a sweet little smile and your eyes shine like stars and you look up at him like he's everything, like he's the coolest. he wants you to look at him like this all the time.

you suddenly lean in and kiss him, right next to his lips, just at the corner. it lasts for about 0.3 seconds but katsuki feel his entire body exploding from the inside like he's let off his quirk onto himself.

"i take it back actually" you start " you're super cool to be around,kacchan " you whisper bashfully. katsuki huffs out a little laugh once his heart had stabilized itself a little bit, a small smile growing on his face—

" AW MAN? WHAT THE HELL ?!"

you both turn to the sound of your electric classmate, sporting a little pout on his face. proceeding to get dog-piled on by your other classmates surrounding him, causing him to let out whines and moans of complaint.

"i-ignore him !" mina waves off nervously "just keep doin' what you were doin !— i mean, we weren't watching or anything !" she splutters.

"nice one." jirou deadpanned sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "look, we don't mean to pry or anything, but who kissed who first ?"

at that, katsuki's cheeks flare up, turning a damn near violent shade of pink. he's about to yell obscenties at his classmates, about to tell them it's none of their business when-

" i did !" you giggle, a cat-like grin on your face

"you sneaky fuckin minx-" katsuki growls, shoving his index fingers into your sides and you let out a squeal mixed with a giggle. you're quickly drowned out by your classmates releasing a group groan, with sero and kaminari yelling and booing at katsuki, who in turn starts threathing them, his hands crackling and popping.

you don't exactly know what's happening, but you can't help but feel extremely joyful and happy.

"soo.." mineta starts "since i said bakugou wouldn't confess first doesn't that technically mean i-"

" IN YOUR DREAMS ! "

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part iii (final)

warnings: angst; smut; word count: 6.3k (sorry)

what the fuck. 

as soon as the words left his mouth, you wondered how many hits to the head soccer players got each match, because there was no way in hell rafe cameron was in love with you.

suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, you stood up, almost falling off his bed in the process.

in a frantic scramble, you reached for your clothes, tugging on your jersey inside out and hopping around on one foot trying to pull up your shorts.

"what's wrong with you?! we just had sex!"

rafe blinked, still dazed from your anything but innocent activities.

“uh, yeah, that's kind of when these feelings hit me.”

you paused, one leg in your levis shorts, the other still “bare”, and shot him a look. 

 "you don't just drop the l-word after sex! are you insane!" you managed to get your shorts up and fastened, albeit a bit crookedly, “jesus christ.”

“i didn’t mean to freak you out, it just came—"

“yeah, well, maybe lead with something less dramatic” you snorted, tugging your shirt the right way around. "i mean, who does that?"

he laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment you were torn between being annoyed and charmed, “i’m sorry. i meant it tho.”

“no, you didn’t.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you fumbled with your shoelaces.

“i did,” he insisted, his voice earnest, but you were too busy wrestling with your stubborn converse to look up.

“you don't even know me."

"course i do," he looked offended, like you insulted him, "your birthday is on october 8th, and your favorite color is blue. your favorite food is picanha and kimchi ramyeon. you do this thing when you're happy where you just speak really loud, all the time and when your favorite song comes on, which is all of them really, you always squeal—"

you think you lost at least three brain cells as you stood there, jaw dropped to the floor, listening to him list all the things he knew about you.

correctly.

"y’know what sherlock?” you said suddenly, standing up, finally fully dressed but still feeling exposed. “i need some air. a lot of it.”

“what?”

“i’m leaving.”

“wait—" you hear the sound of sheets ruffling, “wait a sec—dammit!”

you didn't look back as you hurried out of his room, the sounds of the frat party thumping from downstairs, music seeping through the walls. the hallway was packed with people, and you pushed your way through the crowd, your mind racing. oh my god. everyone was seeing you leave rafe cameron’s room in a hurry. there was no way in hell you’d have a peaceful week after this.

you were almost reaching the door when you felt a hand grab your upper arm. you turned around to see rafe, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, “can we talk about this?”

the music was deafening, forcing you to practically scream to be heard. “what part of 'too much' don’t you get?”

“why?” he asked, his voice barely cutting through the noise. “why does it have to be too much?”

“because it is!” you shouted, then softened your tone just enough to be less harsh, “just let it go.”

he let go of your arm, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “’m not asking you to say it back, okay?”

you felt the weight of curious eyes on you. the partygoers’ stares only made you want to leave even more. desperation clawed at your chest.

rafe closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “did that really feel like only sex to you?”

you bit your lip, the regret hitting you immediately, but you couldn't stop now. you needed to get out.

“yeah.” you replied, even though your heart screamed at you to take it back.

he stepped back, letting go of your arm completely. “fine. go on then," he said, his tone flat and lifeless. “just go.”

“i’m sorry—" you started again, but rafe's expression hardened. he’d never looked at you like that and you hated every single second of it.

he stepped back further, creating a physical distance, as if to save himself the hurt, “leave.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, you wanted to be anywhere but there. you couldn't delete the image of his face when you rejected him from your brain. 

as soon as you were outisde, you pulled out your phone, and dialed pope's number. he picked up on the third ring, his voice laced with excitement.

"the dick was that bad? i could've sworn—”

tears were already threatening to fall as you tried to steady your voice. "pope, can you... can you pick me up?"

“huh?”

"i just... i need to get out of here," you managed, voice cracking as you wrapped an arm around yourself, feeling strangely exposed.

"shit. okay. i'll be there in ten minutes.”

you found a quiet spot near the edge of the campus, too embarrassed to sit outside rafe’s frathouse with so many people coming and going. leaning against a tree, you sank down, hugging your knees to your chest.

what the hell were you doing? had you just permanently ruined your friendship with rafe? let your little mommy issues get ahead of you?

when pope finally pulled up in his car, you climbed in wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes. 

“what did he do? you want me to punch him? cause y’know i’ll call jj and we—"

you leaned your head against the cool glass of the car window, “this was such a fucking bad idea.”

he glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road, “what? why?”

“because.”

pope's brow furrowed in confusion. "what did he say?"

"that he loved me.”

“what the fuck?!" your body jolted forward, your heart racing from the sudden stop. the motherfucker accidentally slammed the brakes.

“pope, what the hell?”

“my bad, fuck,” he muttered, regaining control of the car and easing back onto the road, “he dropped that shit on you?”

“yeah.”

“okay, that’s kinda fucked, but—“ pope glanced at you again, concern etched on his face. “look, cameron might be a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. man, he’s the complete opposite if you ask me. too fucking honest for his own good.”

“he picked the worst time to be honest,” you muttered, wiping away a tear, “i literally had his dick in my hands!”

“dude!” pope faux-gagged, “i don’t need the details, jesus.”

“sorry,” you said, half-laughing through your tears. “it’s just... how can he love me? he doesn’t even know me! that’s what’s pissing me off the most.”

that was a lie.

pope sighed, shaking his head. “i don’t know, but it sounds like he’s really into you. you spent a lot of time together, right? maybe he knows you better than you think.”

he does.

“don’t get smart on me pope howard. i need your support right now, not this sentimentalist bullshit.”

pope chuckled, “you’ve got to talk to him. y’know that, right?”

you groaned, lifting the palms of your hands to your eyes, “why?”

“because you care about him, you dumbass. that’s fucking obvious.”

“stop making sense,” you mumbled, sighing heavily. “i need you to be angry with me, pope.”

he shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "i'm your best friend. my job is to tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.”

you slumped further into your seat, “this is your fault anyway. you planted the stupid idea in my brain.”

“me? this is all you.”

your mouth dropped, “be fucking serious. you told me to sleep with him! for sports!”

“yeah, okay, i’ll take the blame but…”

“but?” you narrowed your eyes in warning, “but what?”

he shrugged innocently, “you never listened to me up to that point. i didn’t think you’d do it. that’s gotta mean something.”

“stop making me think,” you muttered under your breath, letting your head fall back against the seat. “i just want to forget this whole night happened.”

“maybe you just need some time to figure out how you feel.”

“i don’t feel anything,” you lied, staring out the window at the passing lights. “he’s just rafe cameron.”

pope sighed again, the kind of sigh that said he didn’t believe you for a second. “whatever you say."”

he dropped you off at your dorm, waiting until you were inside before driving away. you made your way to your room, collapsing onto your bed. why did you feel like such a terrible person?

you grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, stopping at rafe’s name. your thumb hovered over the call button before you shook your head, tossing the phone aside.

you needed time. time to think, time to breathe, and time to figure out what the hell you wanted.

the next morning, you woke up with a headache and a sense of unease that settled deep in your chest. you dragged yourself out of bed. pope had texted you, a simple “hope you’re okay <3” that made you smile despite everything. you quickly replied, assuring him you were fine, even if you didn’t fully believe it.

you weren’t.

not when your first class of the day was with rafe. but you could do it.

you walked into class just in time, like you always did, only this time you were dreading the inevitable awkwardness of being sat next to rafe.

you hadn’t thought this through. he usually got here before you, real heavy on being on time for everything he did. you tried to keep your eyes locked on the professor, who was gathering the material for class, but you still took small peeks towards the door, expecting to see him stroll in at any given moment.

except he never did. as the lecture progressed, he never showed up. 

when the professor eventually asked about his whereabouts, kelce, his friend who sat a few rows behind you, raised his hand casually.

“rafe’s not feeling well today,” kelce spoke up, his tone nonchalant. he glanced over at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes that made your stomach twist. 

oh great, so now you were the witch of the wicked west to all his friends. 

the professor nodded sympathetically. “alright, thank you for letting me know, kelce. make sure he gets the notes from today’s lecture.”

kelce nodded in acknowledgment, and the class moved on, but your mind was racing. rafe skipping class wasn’t like him. the timing felt deliberate, almost as if he was avoiding you after last night. 

as the lecture continued, you realized rafe wouldn’t be the only one needing notes. all you’d done for two hours was scramble down a few words, none of them making any sense. you struggled to focus on the material. every glance towards the door was met with disappointment.

maybe this was serious. maybe he hated you now.

after what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. packing up your things, you hesitated before deciding to approach kelce, who lingered near his seat. you’d only spoken to him a handful of times, mainly when you and rafe studied back at the frat house.

kelce was nice. but the look he was giving you now, was anything but.

"hey, kelce," you began, trying to sound casual.

"hey," kelce replied cautiously, eyeing you up and down. 

you swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"um, is rafe okay? is he sick?”

he nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering, “the flu. got it last night."

"l-last night?” 

“yup.”

“oh.”

kelce's brows furrowed slightly, “look, i don’t know what happened. but, he’s…not doing okay.”

your stomach sank. it was clear rafe was avoiding you, and the guilt gnawed at you even more. "i just... i didn't mean to..."

kelce cut you off gently, his voice softening. "that’s none of my business.”

"yeah," you murmured, feeling utterly inadequate.

"he'll come around," kelce reassured you, though his tone lacked conviction.

you nodded dumbly, unsure of what else to say. part of you wanted to apologize again, but...you’d done nothing wrong. there was no need to explain yourself.

"thanks," you managed weakly, offering a half-hearted smile.

kelce nodded in response, his expression remaining neutral. with that, you turned and hurried out of the classroom, feeling the weight of kelce's gaze on your back. the hallways felt suffocating, with whispered conversations and curious glances that only amplified your discomfort. did everyone know? was there a journal column telling everyone who got laid last night? fucking hell.

back in your dorm room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. this was worse than what you’d expected. you couldn't stop seeing the image of rafe's hurt expression, his quiet insistence that he meant what he said.

your phone buzzed beside you, and you hesitated before picking it up, sighing in realief when you saw it was a text from pope.

"baaaabeeee, how did it go?"

did he really want to know the mess you'd made of things?

after a moment's hesitation, you replied with a simple, "not great. think everyone hates me lol"

pope's response was almost immediate. “shit. you wanna to talk about it?"

you bit your lip, undecided between wanting to unload everything and wanting to bury it all deep down. in the end, you settled for a brief reply. “later."

that went on for a week and three days.

you avoided rafe’s usual hangouts, keeping your head down and focusing on your classes. you still hadn’t seen him, and it was starting to drive you crazy. you needed to talk to him, but you were scared. like, shitless scared, of what he’d say, scared of what you’d feel.

it was hours later when you finally saw him again. you were in the library, buried in your notes, the ones who’d stolen from pope because you hadn’t been able to focus properly in any class and you hated that you’d let a boy have so much control over your brain, let alone a jock.

when you looked up and saw him standing at the entrance. he looked a little too good. the typical shorts hitting just above his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles way too much for your sanity, and his hair peeking out from under a snapback. 

good enough to eat.

he spotted you almost immediately and then quickly turned his head to side, ignoring you. 

ouch. okay, fair enough all things considered.

your heart skipped a beat. it was now or never. for a moment, you considered hiding, but you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way over to him.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to sound as casual as possible.

rafe looked up for a second, then returned his attention to the phone in his hands, “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked.

he shrugged, and it took everything in you not to punch him in the face. “sure.”

you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “sorry about the other night. i-i didn’t handle it well.”

he nodded, but his gaze remained on his phone, fingers typing away. “yeah, i get it.”

you frowned, sensing that something was off. he’d never ignored you before, he wasn’t even giving you the dignity of looking at you as you spoke to him. 

“are you okay?”

“fine,” he replied curtly.

before you could ask him what the fuck is problem was now, a girl approached, her smile bright, almost blinding you. she was ridiculously pretty, with long braided hair and sparkling brown eyes.

a literal doll.

she looked between you and rafe, “hi, are you ready to go?”

your heart sank as the girl slipped her arm around rafe’s arm and he finally put his stupid phone away and smiled down at her.

heavy on the ouch.

“yeah, let’s go,” rafe said, his voice softening, but then he turned to you, his expression blank again, “see you around.”

you stood there, watching them walk away feeling like a complete fucking idiot. like you were being pranked. what the hell was that? was he trying to make you jealous? or was he moving on that quickly? was there even something to move on from?

you returned to your seat, barely registering the world around you.

is that what he meant by telling you he loved you? you’ve been feeling bad over a boy who clearly only said what he said because you fucked him too good? wow.

you tried to focus on your notes, but your hands were trembling. without realizing it, you started tearing at the pages, ripping them apart. by the time you looked down, half of your notes were in shreds, scattered across the table.

“dammit,” you hissed under your breath. you gathered the torn pieces, stuffing them into your bag. there was no salvaging them now. 

with a frustrated sigh, you pulled out your phone and dialed pope’s number. 

“what’s up?”

“i need to get fucked up tonight.” you said bluntly, not bothering to hide the frustration you were feeling. 

“buy a guy a drink first?”

you could hear him snicker at his own joke, “shut up. are there any parties?”

“yeah, heard there's a big one at the delta house. everyone’s going.”

“okay. we’re going too.”

pope sighed, “i don’t remember signing up for this.”

“shut up and pick me up at 9.”

you decided that tonight was the night to go all out. no more hiding, no more feeling sorry for yourself. you rummaged through your closet, tossing aside clothes that were too plain, too boring, or just not the vibe you were going for. 

finally, you found it—the perfect outfit, and possibly the sluttiest thing you proudly owned.

you slipped into a sleek, black leather mini skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, hitting just the right spot on your thighs. you paired it with a cropped, red satin top that showed just enough skin to be daring but not over the top. the top had a deep v-neckline, accentuating your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate gold necklace you wore. the outfit was completed with a pair of knee-high black boots, giving you an edge and adding a few extra inches to your height. you never wore them out, too worried that your feet would be killing you after a couple of minutes, but tonight, if you got drunk enough, you wouldn’t feel shit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the top and smoothing down the skirt. 

your makeup was bold, different from what you usually did—a smoky eye that made your eyes pop and a deep red lipstick that matched your top perfectly. you left your hair loose, allowing it to fall in soft waves. satisfied with your look, you grabbed a small clutch and headed out.

when pope arrived to pick you up, his jaw practically hit the floor. he stared at you, eyes wide, as you strutted towards the car.

“i'm sorry—are we going to a strip club or to a party?” he blurted out.

"are you slutshaming me?"

"no, but be real for a second."

you rolled your eyes, but a small smirk played on your lips. “don’t be dramatic. just wanted to look good.”

“look good?” pope repeated, still in disbelief, “sweets, you always look good, okay? but this? you look like you’re about to rip someone’s heart out.”

“good,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat. “that’s the goal.”

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath about needing to keep an eye on you all night.

“you’re gonna tell me what happened?”

“nothing happened.”

“right.”

the delta house was already packed when you arrived, the music thumping so loud you could feel it in your chest. you walked in with pope by your side, determined to leave all your worries at the door.

“alright, let’s get some drinks,” pope clapped his hands, rubbing them together before leading you to the makeshift bar. you could feel eyes on you as you walked through the crowd, whispers and stares following your every step. you ignored them. 

so what if people knew you fucked rafe? that was your business, not theirs.

you grabbed a tequilla shot, downing it quickly and feeling the alcohol warm you up from the inside. pope handed you another, and you sipped it more slowly, trying to steady your nerves.

“easy. ‘m not holding your hair back if you throw up,” he warned, nudging you gently. “just relax and have fun. cleo’s joining later.”

“awwww, look at you being soft."

“shut up. don’t embarrass me in front of her."

you placed your hand over your heart, “i would never!”

the night wore on, the party growing louder. you danced, laughed, and mingled, trying to keep your mind off rafe and the mess you'd made of things. pope stuck by your side, and cleo, the girl of his dreams, joined you eventually, her energy infectious. 

you were happy he’d found someone. 

you were at the bar, grabbing another drink, when you saw rafe walk in.

your heart nearly dropped out of your ass, but you forced yourself to stay calm. he was with the same girl from the library and seeing them together made your stomach churn. he hadn't even noticed you yet, too busy talking to her.

"pope," you called, nudging him. "look who's here."

pope glanced over and sighed. "ignore him, please. we're here to have fun, remember?"

you nodded, drowning another shot, "right. fun."

it was easier said than done. every time you glanced their way, you wanted to storm up to him and punch him in that stupid perfect face. why did it bother you so much? he was just a guy. just rafe cameron. you downed another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb the emotions swirling inside you.

“goddamn mama, are you drinking yourself to death?”

jj’s presence barely phased you, “yes.”

“what’s got you so worked up?”

you groaned, not really in the mood for his antics. “nothing. just havin’ a good time.”

“yeah, right,” jj snorted, stealing your drink and taking a sip. “try again. this shit is 95% vodka by the way.”

you snatched it from his hands, “don’t drink my shit. don’t wanna talk about it.”

“alright,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “dance with me then?”

“no.”

“pleaseee,” he begged, jutting out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, “c’mon.

despite your best efforts to stay frustrated, his infectious energy made you crack a smile. "fine, but just one song maybank."

jj whooped, “atta girl.”

he grabbed your hand with a mischievous grin and pulled you onto the crowded dance floor. you laughed as he twirled you around, his movements were surprisingly graceful. one time he made you faceplant the floor, so this was an improvement. 

his energy has always been infectious, jj was a literal golden retriever in human from and soon enough you found yourself letting go of all the worries that had been weighing you down. you moved in sync with him, your hips swaying, and your arms following the flow of the music. jj’s playful antics kept you entertained—he'd throw in a spin or a sudden dip, making you laugh even harder.

but then, he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the music.

“guess who's watching?"

you raised an eyebrow, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

"who?"

jj nodded towards the edge of the dance floor, where rafe stood with a group of his friends. “my number one fan. been eyeing us since we started."

“uh,” you glanced in his direction, catching rafe’s gaze briefly before he looked away, “that’s weird.”

“i know you two fucked.”

your hand instantly reached out to shove jj’s shoulder, “shut up.”

“i'm serious. you’re gonna let him watch or show him what he's missing?"

on one hand, you were furious at rafe for bringing another girl to the party so soon after whatever had happened between you two. after telling you he was in love with you. sure you were a bitch after, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. on the other hand, jj’s always made you go off the rails, in a way that stoked your pride. 

“fine,” you said with a defiant grin, “let’s give him a show.”

jj’s smirk widened, and without missing a beat, he spun you around and pulled you in closer, moving with even more enthusiasm than before. the music pounded around you, you couldn’t even tell the lyrics apart. every twirl, every dip, every sway of your hips was a message to rafe—whether he was watching or not—that you were done feeling sorry for yourself. as the song reached its peak, jj dipped you low, and you laughed breathlessly. you glanced towards where rafe had been standing, but he was gone.

then, without warning, from the corner of your eye, you saw a commotion erupting nearby. before you could react, the crowd around you began to murmur and part, revealing rafe. what the hell? what was this? a coming-of-age movie?

his usually friendly composed demeanor was gone, the glare in him was enough to scare anyone in his way. he stormed towards you, his eyes locked on jj. and then it clicked.

“oh for fuck's sake,” you groaned under your breath, knowing that nothing good would come out of it.

"hey, what the—" jj started, but before he could finish, rafe swung a punch at him.

yep, there it was. 

the blow caught jj off guard, knocking him back a step. the music seemed to stop, or at least fade into the background as chaos erupted around you. people gasped and shouted, some pulling rafe away while others checked on jj.

you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance as you watched jj touch his jaw gingerly. 

“what the fuck, cameron?” jj groaned, “watch the pretty face.”

rafe’s chest was heaving as he glared at the other blonde, fists typically clenched by his side, looking as if he was ready to pounce on him again. before he could take another step, you placed yourself in front of him, blocking jj’s figure sitting on the ground.

“upstairs. right now,” rafe opened his mouth to spit something, but you cut him off, “now.”

he moved silently, following you up a flight of stairs to a quieter area. you could hear his breathing from miles away, he was still worked up. you found an empty room and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, turning to face him.

rafe ran a hand through his face, frustration evident in his every movement. “i don’t know, okay? i just—i saw you with him, and i lost it.”

“oh, so you’re a caveman now?”

"god, you can be so fucking infuriating," rafe exploded, throwing his jacket into a corner of the room, "i saw you. touching him like... like none of this matters!"

"none of what matters?" you shot back, incredulous. "you show up with another girl after telling me you love me, and now i‘m not supposed to move on? what do you expect?"

"me?!" he jabbed a finger into his chest, his face flushed with anger. "that was my damn tutor! i wasn't trying to—shit. you think i'm trying to move on? i told you i loved you. that shit doesn’t just disappear because you don't feel the same way."

now you just felt stupid.

"your tutor?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the new information.

“we weren’t exactly on speaking terms and i needed help with calculus,” he muttered, “didn’t think you’d want to speak to me. and i was still sad.”

rafe shifted uncomfortably in his place, his expression now softer. you felt the sudden urge to hug him, but you didn’t. 

“you said you were supposed to move on,” he says carefully eyeing you.

“i did?” you lied, suddenly feeling like the room was closing in on you, “i don’t think so.”

“you did,” he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "i meant what i said that night. did you?” 

you looked away for a moment, “rafe—“

“i don’t care if you don’t love me, you don’t have to, not right now. i just need to know if you think you can, one day.”

this wasn’t the rafe who punched jj, or the rafe who stormed through the crowd in a fit of jealousy. this was the rafe you were used to. 

your ears were ringing as he closed the distance between you. his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer. the anger had melted away, replaced by a raw, aching need. fuck, he was good.

“listen—” you started again, but this time your voice was softer, trembling. he was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath mingling with yours, “can you back up? jesus. can’t think properly with you close.”

“don’t want to back up,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. he didn’t move, instead leaning in even closer, his lips brushing your ear, “yes or no?”

“cameron,” you breathed, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

but he wasn’t having it.

his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “tell me you don’t want me too.”

he held your face by the jaw before leaning forward on instinct to kiss you but stopped himself right before he did. eyes on his lips now, completely entranced, you leaned forward to finish what he started but he was stopping you with his thumb. you stayed close though, gaze still fixated on his bottom lip and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“you gonna make me fuck it out of you?”

you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to him, the way your pulse quickened every time he was near, “and if i do?”

he didn't answer immediately, instead closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. his lips crashed against yours, his hand sliding from your jaw to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as he squeezed you deliciously. 

all of a sudden, you were pressed against a wall, his body firm against yours, pinning you with his weight. he got a groan out of you, tilting your head as his grip tightened on your hips to keep you there, secured to him.

“this isn’t fair,” you pushed at his shoulder with your palm so that he pulled away to look at you, “you’re playing dirty.”

“so what?” he breathes out, jaw relaxed as his hips start to grind against yours.

your hand reached out to grab his shoulder for purchase when your hips started to move on their own, “oh fuck.”

rafe arched his hips sharply, teasing your clit, eliciting a gasp as you leaned your head against the wall, your chin tilting towards the ceiling. he kissed your neck, where sweat-dampened hair started to cling at your nape.

when did it get so hot in the stupid room?

“you’re—oh, gonna f-fuck me in a stranger’s room? real romantic,” you tried to sound casual, but it came out all wrong when his fingers pressed into the plush of your ass. 

he laughed against your skin, the sound making you tighten your legs around him. you were glad his hands were currently busy because a single touch between your thighs would expose how wet you were. 

“you can say it.”

your arms slided past his shoulders and loosely locked behind his neck, “no.”

rafe shook his head, “you asked for it.”

“rafe.”

he was poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek looking at you as if he was ready do destroy you whole, “told you i was gonna get it out of you.”

you blinked slowly, savoring the sight of his face, then your wrists, still crossed behind his neck, tugged gently, drawing him closer, craving his threat, “you’re gonna fuck me until i confess?

he lowered his head until his forehead met yours, your fingers could sense the rapid throb of his pulse beneath his jaw, his eyes tender, holding an adoration you never knew was possible. no one had ever looked at you that way. 

you pulled him by the fabric of his shirt, hard enough to make him understand he needed to do something. you moaned against his lips, fingers threading through his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive skin.

your skirt rode up as he rutted into you, and his hand slipped under the fabric, fingers grazing the edge of your panties, teasingly close to where you ached for him most. you gasped, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

“rafeee,” you whimpered, “please."

he pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with lust. “say it,” he demanded, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, driving you crazy with anticipation.

“no.” you managed to choke out, feeling a flush of heat spread through your body.

he raised a brow, “no?”

his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of your panties, finding you wet and ready. he groaned at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan his name. you clung to him, hips bucking against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

“you sure?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise. 

you barely had time to think about changing your answer before he plunged two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur. your back arched off the wall, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“rafe, i'm—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, your body trembling as you felt the orgasm build, ready to spill over.

but then he was pulling back just as you were about to fall over the edge. it was maddening, the way he seemed to know exactly how to bring you right to the cusp of pleasure and then deny it. you’d only fucked once before, and it felt like he’d memorize every single thing you liked. every spot that made your toes curl. 

“please, let me—”

“you said no, baby” he interrupted, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “you’re not ready.”

his fingers moved with practiced precision, slow and deliberate, stoking the flames of your desire without allowing you any release. every time you felt the pleasure building to its peak, he’d ease off, bringing you back down, only to start all over again.

you clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he held you firm against the wall, his body a solid, unyielding barrier. “please,” you begged again, “i can’t take it.”

“oh, you can,” he scolded, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “and you will.”

his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, while his fingers thrust inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. you bucked against his hand, your body pleading for release, but he kept you balanced on that knife’s edge, never letting you tip over. motherfucker.

“I need to come,” you admitted, your voice cracking with desperation. “please, baby. i need to come.”

rafe’s pretty blue eyes darkened with satisfaction at your words, but he still didn’t relent. 

instead, he slowed his movements even more, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. you writhed against him, your body trembling, every nerve ending on fire.

“you want to come?” he asked, his voice a seductive purr, “that bad, huh?”

“t-this isn’t f-fair.”

“awww, sorry baby."

“fuck, fucking—"

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “just a lil more, yeah?”

he increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing faster against your clit, and you felt the pleasure building again, higher and higher, until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. but this time, he didn’t stop. this time, he pushed you right to the edge and then, finally, let you fall.

your orgasm crashed over like a train wreck, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. you screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever. rafe held you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. 

he kissed you tenderly, his lips a gentle contrast to the intensity of what you’d just experienced. as you came down from your high, he held you close, his fingers still inside you, his thumb gently stroking your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body.

you couldn’t find the words to answer, your mind too foggy with pleasure. instead, you just held onto him, your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

rafe’s fingers slowly withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more. he lifted you gently, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with his casual tenderness. he climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

“i love you,” his voice was a soft caress against your ear. “i meant it.”

you looked up at him, “i know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, “i think i love you too.”

“i know.”

[sexydoffyman]

Could I maybe get an NSFW alphabet plz with male reader? Thanks!

NSFW ALPHABET - KÖNIG

navigation

genre: smut

characters: König

A/n: a friend pf mine pronounces his name like qwajnk.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Oh boy. He doesn't really seem like it but he really fucking likes cuddles. He definitely uses his height to his advantage. (You're getting grounded, literary) He is a little self-conscious after sex. He knows he's big. He also knows he could hurt you pretty badly. Thoughts of you hating him or losing interest fill his head. He just has to grab you and make sure you stay there with him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms. You can grab on them, and it makes them seem even bigger than they already are. He likes putting you in a chokehold.

What he favours the most in you are your legs. Thighs specifically. He doesn't really have a reason for it. He just likes them. Let the man get some thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Average texture, not super thick, but also not watery. Hex - f3f5e6 Big man big load. Usually pulls out and catches it in his hand. (He doesn't want to add work by having to clean anything up) He also doesn't really want you to swallow it. He is mature he doesn't need a porn actor who will do anything to satisfy a dude. He'd rather have real sex.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn't fit in a fleshlight. He's pretty embarrassed about the whole thing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's over 40. Definitely has a pretty big body count. About 27 I'd say. (counting one-night stands) He finally found someone on whom he can use his knowledge on.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Spooning or the seashell.

When he spoons you he can put you in a chokehold, making you fight back a little. On the other hand, when he bends your legs you won't be able to fucking move.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious but not a nerd kinda serious. He just doesn't speak much.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps a solid bush on there. (He does make sure to clean it properly) It is not messy. He's got a little thicker happy trail. And he's a pretty brunet down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be pretty brutal both with his actions and with his words. Or he can be soft with both. It depends on both of your moods.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This testosterone-filled man definitely jerks off. Even when you are around (Doesn't try to hide it)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Being in control. I mean, can you blame him. He has the perfect body and occupation for it. Speaking of body.

Size difference. Again it just feels right.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He could fuck anywhere. Even tho he likes it the most from the safety of your bedroom he wouldn't mind a public bathroom or a friend's bedroom. He likes to be sneaky. Has never been caught once.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything.

Do anything he's hard instantly. That's why he jerks off so much.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you want it he wants it. Except threesomes. He wants you for himself. Who could blame him when he has such a pretty thing only for him. Why would he share

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving. He isn't bad at giving but he can use his hands and dick way better than his mought.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough all the way. He loves to be in control and he's got all this raw strength and energy. Why not use it?

He also likes the slow and sensual. Both of you need a break sometimes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He'd go for them more often, but he doesn't really want to bother you. Another reason for him jerking off a lot.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s always pulling you to the side, finding a place to make you take him. He is obsessed of holding the door to make sure no one gets in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This dude. Bruv can go as long as you can go. He will take you to the stars and back and it’ll take him only a minute to catch his breath.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not a fan of them. He’d rather have you on his dick not some plastic. He doesn’t find much pleasure in them either.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Based on his mood.

He could play with you as he holds you down.

Or he could be quick about it.

He for sure doesn’t mind teasing you. Touching your thigh is his favourite way to do so.

V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is dead silent. Sometimes it freaks you out. But if he finds out you enjoy the sounds he makes he will definitely try to add more of ‘em

Slight sighing when he lays his body on yours, little grunts and the occasional “fuck”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s into stalking. It doesn’t matter of it’s you stalking him or the other way around. He loves the thrill.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.5 inches abnormaly thick. #e0ae82 base #ba7f68 tip. Slightly curved to the left.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Boy can go anywhere anytime. Public bathroom, bed, a random fucking room. He’s always thinking of it. Hard 24/7

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to talk a bit afterwards but he will fall asleep like a baby right after he’s done.

[yoongiseesawmp3]

u got it bad - san (m)

summary: baseball player!san x reporter!reader. you've been covering your local team for years. the players, the coaches, everybody knows you. except for newbie choi san. he just joined the team, but he knows you from somewhere...maybe the bar last night?

word count: 14.5k

warnings: lots of baseball jargon, afab reader, sex (some protected some not), thigh riding, oral (barely. m receiving tho), a little cockwarming

masterlist

you love your job. as a kid, you always dreamed of working here, walking into this stadium every day, and doing what you loved most. granted, back then you were imagining yourself as one of the players, but oh well. a girl can still dream, right?

you landed the job as sideline reporter for your favorite baseball team right out of college. they wanted someone willing to stick around for a while, and you recall telling them in your interview, "if i start working here, you'll never be able to get rid of me." they loved it, and they loved that you were a hometown supporter. it made your stories more meaningful, gave you a point of view that fans could appreciate. you were able to write touching pieces on the players, give the season the dramatic arc on camera that it deserved, and you treated everyone at the team with respect. that respect went both ways, with the players, coaches, front office staff...everyone knew who you were and included you as if you were a part of the team.

you had to work hard for that respect. it didn't take long for you to prove yourself, but it did take several sleepless nights and countless overtime hours to become the reporter you are. you know everything about this team, and that's what makes you so good.

because you know eveything, you obviously know that they're close to signing star right fielder choi san. you've heard talk that it's basically done, he flew in this morning and is set to sign his contract first thing tomorrow. of course, you had memorized his past work jumping around the league as soon as the rumors started. it was your job, after all, to know these things. you knew he was great on the field, that was easy, but everyone loved him in the dugout. he's the kind of player that remembers everyone's names, brings gifts for the team around the holidays, asks about your family when he sees you. he's a stand up guy, you hear.

you've also heard that he likes to play the field outside of the stadium, if you catch my drift. he's very popular with the ladies in whatever city he deems to call home for that season, and as you walk through your favorite bar outside the stadium, you can tell the women here already know choi san is close by.

one thing you do not know is that san is in this bar, right now. yes, he's signing his contract tomorrow, but he wanted to visit the stadium today, when it was still quiet. he likes getting the feel of a team before he joins, so he wandered around the empty stadium a few times before coming here to clear his head. upon entering, he sees his face plastered on all the tvs as espn does a deep dive into what his move here might mean. he thought he was screwed, that people would immediately notice him, but so far so good. he's got a nondescript cap on and dark sweats, so he hopes his booth in the corner is enough to keep him hidden while he has a celebratory pint. he doesn't report to training until day after tomorrow, so he thought he could treat himself tonight.

as he sits and drinks, soaking in the atmosphere, he has to laugh. he wants to stay hidden, but really, with his likeness and his entire career plastered on every screen above the bar, you'd think someone would know. at least look at him and make a comment about the resemblance. but it doesn't seem like anyone here knows a thing.

except you. as you sit at the bar, swirling the straw in your glass, you take a look around. there's some regulars that smile and wave, but for the most part it's not that busy. maybe that's what makes him stand out more. your eyes fall on choi san, all star right fielder and the newest member of your team, trying to hide in the corner. but his sharp eyes and broad shoulders alert you immediately that the subject of all your recent studies is here. and he's staring at you. you stare back, and he quirks an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.

you take the bait and make your way to his table.

"anyone sittin' here?" you ask in a slight southern accent, and san smiles. it's been a while since he played in the south. he forgot how charming it can be. maybe he'll catch himself a southern belle while he's here.

"saved it for you," he smirks, and you hum as you sit across from him. he sees your almost empty glass and states, "looks like you need another."

"ah, i probably shouldn't," you shake your head. "got an early morning."

"me too," san nods, that smirk still comfortably on his face. "so what's your name, beautiful?"

"y/n," you reply. you try not to let your heart flutter at the nickname, or the way he's staring at you, but it's hard. "yours?"

"san," he says simply. "you from here, y/n?"

"born and raised," you answer. "you new to the city?"

"you could say that," he sighs. "just moved here for work, but i've visited a couple times."

"how are you likin' it so far?"

"to be honest?" he makes a face. "it's kind of boring."

"excuse me?" you're taken aback. you don't take kindly to people badmouthing your hometown, and you don't like the mischievous spark in san's eyes as he continues.

"well, girl as pretty as you not taking me up on my offer of another round, that's no fun is it?" he teases.

"ahah," you laugh halfheartedly. "sure, i can see why that would upset you."

"i'm not upset, doll, just disappointed."

"well, hate to disappoint you further, but i really do have an early morning," you say as you start to rise. "just saw a stranger sittin' all by his lonesome and thought i would say hi."

"i'm glad you did," san raises his glass to you. "maybe i'll see you around?"

"maybe," you shrug, trying to bite back a smile. "nice meeting you san."

you feel his eyes on you as you return your glass to the bar, waving goodbye to the bartender before you head to the door. you turn before you leave, meeting san's eyes across the room, and you just smile to yourself as you step outside.

-

san is the first one in the clubhouse the next day. he loves the smell of an empty locker room, untainted by the man stench that inevitably comes with a roomful of athletes. he smiles warmly as he walks in and sees his locker decorated in welcome. he's looking through all the gifts, some regulation equipment he asked for and some just goodies from the team, as the players start slowly arriving.

the first to arrive is jongho. he's the catcher, and san finds it easy to talk to him. he seems quiet, but most catchers are the stoic type, so maybe jongho will open up to him in time. the next guy in has the opposite issue. wooyoung, the shortstop, immediately claps san into a hug, babbling a mile a minute about how great it's gonna be to have him on the team.

san gets stuck talking to wooyoung for a while, which he doesn't mind. they get along quickly, but as they talk the rest of the team trickles in. hongjoong, the second baseman, waves to san from across the room. seonghwa, the left fielder, carefully places his things into the locker next to san's, then gives san a wordless handshake and a warm smile. yunho, the first baseman, is spread out at the locker to san's right. mingi, the third baseman, is next to him. wooyoung finally leaves for his locker next to hongjoong, and next to him is yeosang, the center fielder. pitchers must not report today, because san scans the room and counts eight.

he checks the time and notices he's almost late for his press conference, so he gets to work getting dressed before someone appears at his side to escort him down the hall. she works in media relations and gives him the run down of the conference, explaining that the coach will do a quick intro before san comes up to say a few words. they'll shake hands, he'll sign his contract, and then take a few questions before reporting to more press stuff. nothing he hasn't done before, but san still brushes his sweaty hands on his pants to calm his nerves as they enter.

san hears the chatter of the press die down as their eyes fall on him. it's a big room, lots of reporters and cameras, and he smiles and waves as he gets ushered to the side of the makeshift stage in the front. the coach steps up then, welcoming everyone and giving a bit of insight on why they wanted to sign san. this team desperately needed a right fielder, so in all the negotiations it was basically just their operations team begging san to come play for them. the coach paints it a different way, and san does his best to grab onto a few phrases so he can sprinkle them into his own speech. the coach calls him up and san takes a seat next to him, falling smoothly into his regular "happy to be here, excited at the opportunity" spiel. he scans the room and recognizes a few faces, so he gets more comfortable as he goes on.

"i think at the end of the day, i'm looking for a team that i can be with for a long time," san starts to conclude. "and so far, i'm really liking it here. maybe this will be that team."

he goes through the motions of signing, shaking hands, posing for pictures, and then settles back into his seat for the question portion. at his other teams, he's been allowed to pick the press he talks to, so he scans the room for familiar faces, but media relations steps in and starts calling names. the first one takes him by surprise, and a smile grows on his face as he sees who steps up.

"y/f/n, local news," you smile back at san as the recognition crosses his features. "you said you're liking the city so far? can i ask what makes you think this team, this franchise, will be the one to make you stay?"

"you were at the bar last night," he responds, and you feel yourself blush. a chuckle ripples through the crowd of reporters as san goes on. "sorry, just. this is a surprise, is all."

"i agree," you quip back. "because yesterday you told me you didn't like this city. so i'm just wondering what made you change your mind."

"honestly? the people," he answers sincerely, holding your gaze. "it's hard to explain, but things feel...different here. i've never been with a team where the players are so welcoming, the staff is so kind, and the reporters are hanging out at local bars after hours." another laugh. "so i think this franchise might have more of the culture i've been missing from those other teams i've played for. that answer your question, y/n?"

"yep," you give him a satisfied nod. "happy to have you here, san."

"happy to be here," he smiles, and you swear the lights from all the cameras make his teeth sparkle. he keeps staring at you as media relations calls for the next question, and only when his attention is no longer on you do you realize that your heart is beating too fast.

-

today's only a press day for the boys, there's no actual training that needs to happen, but that doesn't mean the clubhouse is calm. no, actually, there's more people here than there will be for the rest of the season, what with all the camera crews and a few stylists running around. oh, and the fact that everyone who works here wants to get a peek at choi san. he left the press conference and saw a group down the hall, staring and whispering. san wasn't sure which way to go to find the locker room, so he approaches the group with a smile. turns out it's front office staff, part timers, anyone who works here that needed to see san with their own eyes to believe he's really playing here. he's charming as ever, learning everyone's names, signing things, taking pictures. he even stands by happily as an older woman calls her grandsons, and they laugh together as the little boys squeal in excitement.

san stays until everyone has what they wanted, which must have taken a while, because he sees the press trickling out toward the exit. he keeps his eyes peeled for one person in particular, and when you pass through the doors and turn san's way, he smiles. you stop, eyes focused on the notebook you're furiously scribbling in, so you don't see him. that won't do, san thinks, so walks over and stops in front of you with a sigh.

"what do you want san," you ask it as a statement, eyes not moving from your notes.

"how'd you know it was me?"

"i know everything," you look up then, meeting his smile with one of your own. "and you've got cleats on, so i knew it wasn't anybody from your fan club coming to ask for my notes."

"my fan club?" he laughs, but you can tell it boosts his ego. "i think they're just fans of the team."

"are you always like this?" you ask thoughtfully, and san says he doesn't know what you're talking about. "you're not cocky, but you're humble, and you're cocky about being humble. does that make sense?" you stop to scribble that down, and san tries again to see what else you've written. you catch him this time, tugging the notes just out of his line of sight. "don't you have pictures to take?"

"how'd you-"

"i told you, i know everything," you joke again, taking a moment to stuff your pen back in your bag. that leaves your notebook unattended, and san snatches it, running a few steps down the hall with evil glee. you stomp after him and fail in grabbing it from his eager hands.

"hey, this is good," san reads, his eyes scanning the paper. "you write all your stuff by hand?"

"depends," you shrug. "i started getting bored at the end of that talk and i needed to organize my thoughts."

"oh i can tell you were bored," san smirks, his eyes flicking to you. "i like the doodle of me."

"that doodle could be of anybody," you say as you finally snatch your notebook back. you put it securely in your bag as san continues to look smug.

"i think it was a doodle of me," he says as he starts walking away. "if you ever want me to sit for another portrait, you know where to find me, doll."

"where ya goin'?" you ask him, and he stops. he looks down the hall in front of him back towards you with his thumb pointing behind him.

"to the locker room?"

"that's this way dummy," you point, and you're pleased to see his ears turn red as he corrects his steps. you're heading to the exit, so you walk in the same direction briefly. san slows his steps to keep up with you, and he's so close that his hand keeps brushing yours.

"looks like this is where i leave ya, doll," he sighs, and you wave as you keep walking. "i'll see you soon?"

"you'd like that wouldn't you?" you turn around with a smirk, watching san as you push through the doors to the parking lot. "bye san."

-

san loves the first practice of the season. he loves the feeling of walking onto a brand new field, seeing the empty stadium ahead. at his his other teams, he's had to make this walk alone, his former teammates usually more reserved or too good to talk to him. not here, though. as he takes the field, he finds himself engrossed in a deep argument with jongho and wooyoung about the best world series team of all time, and san feels giddy. he feels like he did when he was a kid, playing ball with his friends, and it's only the first day of practice! imagine what an entire season here would be like. every day, san is thankful he made this move.

another reason for san to be happy he's here is, well, you. working with the press at other teams wasn't exactly a thrill, but rather a part of the job he had to get through. here he's eager to give a statement, always willing to join a press conference, just to have the chance of messing with you.

as he makes the long walk to the outfield for warm ups, san sees someone by the visitor's dugout who's not in uniform. he squints a little in the early morning sun and sees that it's a woman, but assumes it's someone from the front office. he keeps walking, but a laugh echoes out and san turns back to this mystery woman.

"y/n?" he shouts, holding his glove over his eyes to see if that'll block out the sun. sure enough, you turn from your talk with the managers to send him a wave, and that giddy feeling san had walking onto the field is back. "what are you doing here?"

"my job!" you shout back, and with that you go back to work. one of the coaches jogs by san then, tossing a baseball in his direction.

"stop shoutin', son," he says. "go throw that in left field. seonghwa will take you through the warm ups, then we'll come together for drills."

"yes sir," san nods, jogging over to his teammate. he steals one last glance at you, and he swears the sunlight makes you glow.

-

san is exhausted after practice. he knew playing for this team would challenge him, but damn. he's sore and it's only the first day! he's still catching his breath as the team mills about around him, and yunho smirks as he alerts the boys to san's condition.

"i think we wore the superstar out," yunho laughs, and san throws one of his sweaty towels at him. yunho screams and tosses it back, but mingi jumps in to grab it. "what the hell are you doing?"

"this is a sweaty towel used by the choi san," mingi says with importance. "do you know how much i could sell this for?"

"guys, come on," san laughs, snatching the towel back. "i'm not a superstar."

"says the superstar," wooyoung mumbles, and san contemplates throwing the towel again but decides not to, mingi is still close by.

"no, we get it," hongjoong assures him. "just because the press is saying that doesn't mean it's true. you're a part of the team, so you're a team player, right san?"

"yes, exactly-"

"please, i hope everybody is decent!" a familiar voice shouts from the doorway, and san smiles when he finds you standing there. you've got your notebook over your eyes to hide any naked players, but a quick sweep tells san that everyone is dressed for the most part.

"wait, wait!" jongho shouts as he fights to put a clean shirt on. some of the boys chuckle at him while san says, "dude, she's probably seen a guy shirtless before."

"but she's a lady, san," jongho insists. "it's not polite. and i don't like to have my nips out when i'm giving quotes."

"that's why he's my favorite," you say, finally risking a peek. "all good?"

to be honest, san is a little shocked you're here. it's kind of odd for a reporter to be in the locker room after a regular practice, but he trusts this team and how they run things. most importantly, he trusts you. but his shock holds true as you greet the team while making your way straight toward him.

"aw, she's just here for superstar," mingi pouts, and you make him hush.

"i have to publish my story on him today and need to check quotes," you explain. "i'm coming for you next, mingi."

as mingi celebrates, you surprise san further by walking right up to him and taking the seat by his locker. you're flipping through your notebook as he watches you, and after a few seconds you look at him then pat the bench next to you.

"come on, get cozy," you tell him. "you spoke too fast yesterday and i didn't catch all of your answers."

"because you were too busy doodling?" san teases, taking a seat exceptionally close to you.

"that was after you," you explain, but san sees your ears turn red. "can you look through this and tell me if anything rings a bell?"

"y/n, you may be good at your job, but you have shit handwriting," san says after staring at the page long enough for your chicken scratch to make his head hurt. some of the boys near him laugh, and yunho pops his head in to take a look.

"oh yeah that's illegible," yunho confirms. "cute drawing of san, though."

"go away yunho."

"yes ma'am."

you're able to piece together what san said in the press conference, so once you're satisfied you take a moment to type up the changes into your phone. you send the story off to your editor, but then start working through who else you need to talk to today. san is watching all of this, and when your eyebrows furrow in concentration, he leans in.

"i know what you're thinking," he whispers, and you have to shake from your concentration to look him in his sneaky eyes.

"what?"

"i said i know what you're thinking," he repeats with a shrug. when you don't respond, he keeps going. "i bet you're wondering, hm, is san free tonight? well, i am."

"i can't use that for my story," you tell him, and he bumps his shoulder into yours.

"this is when you say if you're free."

"is it?" you ask, gathering your things so you can move on to the next player. "i'm not quite sure about that yet."

"whatever, doll," san smiles. "you know where to find me."

-

you did know where to find him. you knew he would be at the bar tonight. you knew he wasn't supposed to be there, and you knew you shouldn't go looking for him but you couldn't help yourself. after all, you've got to take yourself out for a drink - you filed your first story of the season today. you deserve to celebrate!

as soon as you walk in you can tell it's a mad house. the bar is packed, and it reminds you of how busy it gets after a game. you wonder if it's just preseason excitement that has so many people here, but you don't wonder long. you're here for a drink, so you squeeze between two guys at the bar and wave the bartender down. everyone here knows you, so you get to cut the line.

"hey y/n," he smiles as he walks up. "want your regular?"

"yeah, but top shelf tonight," you tell him. "finished my first story of the season today."

"is it any good? maybe i'll read this one," the bartender jokes as he gets to work.

"i didn't know you could read," you tease, and you smile when he tosses his head back in a laugh. the sound draws someone's attention, but you're too busy flirting with the bartender to notice.

"and to think i was gonna pay your tab myself," he shakes his head.

"put whatever she gets on mine," someone says at your side, and you physically jump when you recognize who it is.

"san?"

"told you to come find me, doll, why are you surprised i'm here?" he smirks. you can tell he's wearing league issued workout clothes, but to the regulars in the bar he's just some dude in sweats. he's got a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, and if he didn't have such striking features you'd say he was blending in pretty well. "i thought we were getting a drink together."

"are we?" you ask. "because i don't recall you actually asking me." san dips his head, knowing that you caught him in a lie.

"can i get whatever she's drinking?" san asks the bartender as he finally places your drink down, and your mouth hangs open in surprise.

"what's this sparkly shit for?" you ask, flicking at the gold pompom on the toothpick poking out of your cup. there's also swirls of gold in your drink, and the bartender shrugs.

"you said you were celebratin'," he explains. "wanted to make sure the drink rose to the occasion."

"well thank you," you say as you lift the drink to your lips, mostly to hide your blush. san is watching this interaction next to you, doing a horrible job of hiding his disgust.

"here's your drink man," the bartender says, plopping a cup down in front of san. "her's was on the house. i added yours to your tab."

"how generous," san smiles, tipping his cup toward the bartender as he walks away. san turns to you slowly, and says, "he's nice."

"you shouldn't be here."

"why, am i interrupting your date?" san quips.

"no," you roll your eyes. "you shouldn't be seen here. lots of fans, you'll probably get stopped for pictures, autographs, kissing babies..."

"they don't let babies into bars, y/n," san smirks at you. "but thanks for looking out for me."

"isn't against team rules for you to go out during the preseason anyway?" you ask, knowing full well it is.

"i don't like following rules," san shrugs.

"oh so that's why you've played for six different teams in five years?" it's your turn to quip, and san whistles.

"you got me there, ace," he sighs. "so what's this about you celebrating tonight?"

"that's nothing," you try to brush it off. "i sent in that story about you, remember? well, it got approved, so i have a tradition of taking myself out for a drink here when my first story of the season is filed."

"taking yourself out?" san shakes his head. "no, no no no. that won't do. i'm getting you another drink, unless your boyfriend tries to pay for it again, and then we're going out."

"you have to report to practice at 7am," you remind him, and he groans, dropping his head on your shoulder.

"you knowing everything about the team is totally ruining my game."

"aw, you did a fine job of that yourself," you coo, patting his cheek. you cup his chin and pull him back up, and you hide a smile when you notice the blush on his cheeks. "maybe you can owe me? take me out for real?"

"i'd like that," san nods.

"i knew you would," you tease, and san reaches an arm out to pull you into his side. he over calculates and accidentally smacks the guy behind you, who turns around in a drunken haze ready to fight.

"what the-" he starts, anger in his swimming eyes. when they land on san, you both see recognition take over his features in slow motion. "holy shit y'all! it's choi san!"

"come on," you grab san's arm, tugging him in the opposite direction. you think there's an entrance out the back, so hopefully the two of you can squeeze through the masses before too many people catch on. as you drag san behind you, you hear the bar goers talking about the star in their midst. some drunk lady grabs sans arm and won't let go, and he won't shake her off like you tell him to. you get caught, the exit you were hoping for just in the distance. people start crowding around san, trying to wedge between you, but he won't let go of your hand. he finishes signing a bar napkin for a guy who definitely used a fake to get in here, and then you're pulling san along again. the crowd is starting to push, and they're all drunk. and rowdy. and loud.

"aw, look, he's already got himself a bitch!" someone shouts, watching you cling onto san as you push him toward the exit. he stops cold, looking around for the drunken idiot. he reinforces his idiocy by stepping forward, slurring his words as he says, "didn't take you long, son-" *hiccup* "always got sluts lookin' for ya-" *hiccup* "she's a pretty one too-"

before you register what he's doing, san shakes you off of his arm. he steps closer to the man, and you feel yourself calling his name, but in the chaos even you can't hear yourself. san pulls his arm back and clocks the man in the face, splattering blood from his now probably broken nose.

"SAN!" you shout, yanking him back toward you. "let's GO."

adrenaline and shock give you the strength to drag a stunned san out of the bar, but it's so packed there were people in the alley already. they weren't aware of what went on inside, so you're able to tug san around the corner. you rush him toward the parking deck, and thank your lucky stars you moved your car from the employee lot earlier. you shove san into your passenger seat, slamming the door shut so you can rush to the driver's side. as you start the car, you look to the side and see san sinking further into the seat.

"i fucked up," he whispers. you hear a quiver in his voice, but you don't press him. "fuck. i'm gonna get kicked off the team. am i gonna get arrested?"

"you won't get kicked off the team," you tell him softly. "and i'll call the bartender in a minute, explain it to him. just pray that asshole you punched doesn't press charges."

"y/n, i'm so sorry," san says, looking to you with a scared look in his eyes. "i just. i couldn't let him talk to you like that."

"thank you san," you say sincerely. "let me see your hand."

"no, it's fine," he insists, but when you touch it he flinches.

"fuck san, how are you gonna play tomorrow?"

"i'm so losing my job," he shakes his head, sitting up like he's going to leave.

"whoa, where are you going?"

"i have to go apologize," he says, trying to open the door but struggling to do it with his hurt hand. "shit, i have to pay for our drinks, and my car! i need to-"

"san," you say sternly, and he looks to you again with those sad eyes. "i'll fix it. ok? do you trust me?"

"yes," he nods vigorously.

"good," you nod back. "can you buckle your seatbelt or do i have to do that too?"

"where are we going?" san asks after securing his seatbelt. it's a good thing he did, because you whip your car out of its spot so fast his body slams against the strap. "seriously road runner, where are you taking me?"

"we need to fix your hand," you tell him. "i live close by, so i'll fix you up and then in an hour or two i'll bring you back for your car."

"thank you," san says. "you're saving my ass."

"just be really good this season, ok?" you ask him. "it'd be fun to watch my team win for once."

"anything for you, ace."

-

a few minutes later, you've got a sheepish all-star perched on the edge of your tub as you stand over him and wipe the blood from his hand. you already sent a text to the bartender, so that's cleared up. apparently, san was doing everyone a favor by punching that guy. no one likes him, so san's not in any trouble with the bar. chances are the guy won't press charges either, he tends to start shit around town so the cops wouldn't necessarily be on his side.

the main issue now is the team. there's pictures and videos floating around, and you were right, san wasn't supposed to be out tonight. he's got a missed call from hongjoong already, and you're helping san figure out what to say to the coaches now.

"just own up to it," you tell him. "they'll appreciate the honesty. and tell them you beat that guy up because he was being mean to me, that'll help your case too."

"no," san shakes your head. "i'm not bringing you into this. i don't want to hurt your reputation."

"do it," you shrug. "i was there. i was part of it. if you don't tell them now, i will tomorrow when i do their preseason interviews."

"are you sure?"

"yep," you reply. "it'll help take some of the heat off of you. sources tell me not everyone is sold on you yet, but if they know you were defending my honor it'll get you some respect in the clubhouse."

"do you have blackmail on all these guys?" san jokes as he tries to focus on typing a text with one hand. you're done wiping the blood from his knuckles, and you've found a small cut on his hand that you need to cover. you step away for a second to bend down in front of your sink, searching through the cabinet below. san tries to hide that he's staring, but he does a poor job. he watches still as you stand up and tear open a bandaid, but he scoffs when he sees what's on it. "you are not making me wear a hello kitty bandaid."

"so you want to get infected?" you ask as you put the bandaid on him anyway. you trace your thumb over it softly, making sure it's laying flat, but you realize how tender this moment is. you're holding san's bruised hand in yours, standing so close to him that your legs are between his spread ones. you take a step back, but san uses his free hand to grab you by the waist.

"where you going, doll?" he whispers, looking up at you softly.

"you need an ice pack," you whisper back.

"you're not gonna kiss it to make it better?" he pouts, and you laugh to hide the way your heart skipped a beat.

"that doesn't work you know," you say as you bring his hand to your lips regardless. you place a delicate kiss to his soft skin, holding eye contact with him to watch his reaction.

"you're right, that didn't work," he sighs, and you start to let go. "maybe this will?" he asks, bringing you closer before cupping your face and pulling you down to his lips. he kisses you once, separating from you with a satisfied look on his face. "there. i'm all good now."

"nice," you squeak. "was this all an elaborate ploy to make me kiss you? because you could've just asked."

"really?" san asks gleefully. "will you kiss me?"

"just did."

"again," he pouts, and you lean down to kiss him quickly. he uses both his hands to hold you in place, his lips caressing yours as he lets out a quiet hum. he pulls back just to lean his forehead against yours and says, "yeah, that's got healing power baby."

"you still need ice," you tell him, stepping back before he can grab onto you again. "come on. maybe we can kiss some more in my kitchen?"

-

san ends up sleeping on your couch. he wouldn't let you leave after fixing up his hand, insisting that you've done enough for him tonight. he'll deal with his car in the morning. you tried giving him the bed, but it barely worked. he wouldn't even let you finish your sentence before he started covering his ears and shaking his head. you gave him an innocent kiss goodnight after setting him up with more pillows and blankets than one guy needs, and you both went to sleep.

except, he wasn't there when you got up. you set your alarm earlier than you planned, but even then you walk into your living room to find all the pillows stacked and blankets neatly folded. the only sign that san was here. well, that and the breakfast he ordered that waits for you on your kitchen table.

san had to be the first one at practice, so he couldn't wait for you to wake up. he also couldn't burden you more than he already has, so he woke before dawn and got to work. his hand feels fine, not great, but he thinks he can get through practice. he's rehearsed what he's going to say to the coaches, the team, the press, and he hopes it's enough.

-

most of your work for the day will take place in a smaller media room that's been set up for your one-on-one interviews with the coaching staff. that means you have no reason to linger outside the locker room, hoping to see san and check that he's ok. you distract yourself by going over the notes for the first interview, and before you know it, there's a knock at the door. it's the pitching coach, one of your favorite people on the team. he pokes his head in and smiles, so you welcome him as you dive into the same spiel you always do for these interviews. you're a pro, and the guys know what they're doing too, so it should be easy going. but as soon as you sit down to start, the coach stares at you with a look that's up to no good.

"so you were out with san last night," he states.

"i wasn't out with him," you explain. "we happened to be at the same bar."

"i heard he wrecked his hand defending you," the coach continues.

"he wrecked it?" you ask, more concern in your voice than you probably needed. "will he be able to play?"

"he'll play just fine," he nods. "don't you worry. we all heard what happened. shoot, some of the coaches and me were sending the videos back and forth last night. i tell you what, the boy's an idiot, but we've let men get by with worse. like i said, don't you worry."

"good," you breathe in relief. "then should we get started?"

-

it was a long day, after an incredibly long night, so when it's time for you to leave you're exhausted. you've been all over the place today, trying to keep up with your schedule, tracking people down for interviews, and you misplaced your notebook at least four times. you can't wait to get home, shower, and immediately go to sleep, but as you approach your car you realize you've lost your keys.

"shit," you hiss, dumping most of your bag out onto the hood of your car. you're mining through all your junk, wondering if it's too late to head back inside.

"hey," san says from behind you, and you jump.

"jesus!" you whip around to stare at him. "you scared me!"

"sorry ace," he smiles sheepishly. "thought you heard me coming."

"obviously not!" you screech, your heart still racing. "what's up?"

"looking for these?" he asks, dangling your keychain in front of you.

"oh my god you're a life saver," you sigh in relief, taking the keys from him gratefully. "how did you know these were mine?"

"i recognized them from last night," he shrugs. "and from the mascot keychain. i remember someone saying they had a childhood obsession with phil the bucket?"

"stop paying so much attention to me, could you?" you ask as you start shoveling your things back into your purse.

"here, let me help," san says as he joins you. he holds your purse open as you slide its contents back inside. "i owe you from last night, so consider this my starting point."

"the starting point?" you smile at him, and he nods.

"yep," he says nonchalantly. "first i found your keys, now the bag thing, and next, i don't know, maybe i take you to dinner?"

"hm, tonight?" you ask, and he nods again. "i have plans."

"then cancel them," san replies. you can tell he's joking by the glimmer of mischief in his eyes, but you know he really wants you to say yes.

"where would we go?"

"somewhere nice so i can spoil you," san says simply, closing your purse and walking to the driver's side of your car. "can i pick you up in thirty?"

"thirty minutes isn't enough time to get ready for a date, san," you frown.

"yeah, but any longer and i'll miss you too much," he pouts. you cup his chin and bring that pout to your lips, kissing him softly before you pull away.

"did that buy me another thirty?"

"twenty," he replies. "maybe twenty five if you promise to wear something sexy."

"deal."

-

as promised, san is outside your building exactly fifty five minutes later. you worried that not having his number and vice versa would make it hard to coordinate, but you're surprised when you check your phone and find that he texted you.

"i'm outside, ace," his text reads. no 'this is san' or anything to identify himself. you know it's him, so you tell him you're coming out.

you worry briefly you won't know which car is his, but as soon as you step outside you let out a soft laugh. of course he's got the most expensive car here, and of course he's leaned against the passenger door waiting for you. he lets out a low whistle as you approach, and you could act coy, but the reporter in you has to ask, "how'd you get my number, san?"

"i'm not giving up my source," he smiles smugly, opening the door for you. "you look incredible."

"it's nice seeing you in something other than baseball clothes for once," you reply. you take his hand and let him help you into the car, watching intently as he crosses the front to reach the driver's side. you're turned to him when he sits, and ask, "seriously. was it hongjoong? one of the coaches? you know they'll be on your ass if they find out you took me on a date."

"i'm not telling," san smirks again. "you gonna buckle your seatbelt or you need me to do it for you?"

"why, you a bad driver or something?" you tease.

"says the woman who gave me whiplash last night."

"i was trying to make a quick getaway before you got stormed by adoring fans again," you remind him.

"always looking out for me," he shakes his head. "i think someone has a crush." you don't respond, instead looking out the window to hide your smile. "you not saying anything isn't helping your case."

"no comment?" you reply, feeling proud at the blush on san's cheeks when you turn back to him. "so where's the superstar taking me?"

"san, the very nice young man you agreed to go out with, is taking you to one of his favorite restaurants," he replies.

"you've lived here like a week, how do you already have a favorite restaurant?"

"there was a place in one of the cities i used to play in, i went there every week," he explains as he drives. you catch yourself staring, but he doesn't seem to mind, so you continue. "the nicest staff. best food. always packed. then one day, it's gone. the owner and his wife moved so they could be closer to their daughter while she was at school, and they ended up here. he gave me a call as soon as my trade was final." you guess a couple places it could be, but they're all wrong. "so ms. know it all doesn't actually know it all?"

"don't call me that," you groan. "there's plenty i don't know."

"enlighten me, ace."

"i can't do math to save my life," you admit, and that gets a laugh out of san. "i don't know how to fold a fitted sheet. and don't tell anyone, but that new stat all the baseball pundits are talking about? it makes no sense to me."

"oh, that's easy," san says, and he falls into a comfortable conversation about baseball. you always wanted this from the guys you date, but despite your work, most guys assume that you don't know anything about sports because you're a woman. you're grateful that you don't feel that way around san, and you start to relax a little bit. you're not on a date with superstar outfielder choi san, you remind yourself. just san. just a, what did he say, a very nice young man?

that niceness continues when he parks his car, rushing to your door to get it for you. he takes your hand to help you out and doesn't let go as you walk in, and you're genuinely shocked that you haven't heard of this place before. it's fabulous, beautiful inside and out, and as soon as you walk in you're hearing san's name called. but this time it's not a fanatic, just a kind looking man and his wife.

"sannie!" she exclaims, pulling him into a soft hug. "oh, it's so nice to see you again. we were so happy when we heard you were coming here. i think it'll be good for you."

"me too," san agrees. he turns to the man then, the owner, and they exchange a manly handshake and similar pleasantries before he turns to you. "this is y/n, by the way. star reporter, loved by all-"

"and way out of your league," the owner winks at you. you feel yourself blush as san agrees, and then he's escorting you to your table. as you walk through the restaurant you notice it's surprisingly empty. didn't san say their last place was always full?

the owner helps you with your seat as his wife explains the specials, but you don't see a menu anywhere. you look at san quizzically and he gives you a look that says he'll explain shortly. after some more kindness, the owner and his wife are gone, and you get a chance to really take this place in.

"if you're wondering where the menu is," san starts, "they won't give us one. they never let me order when i come here, they just decide for me. and it's the best food i've ever had, each time."

"can't wait," you smile at him. "is this place as popular as their last one, you think?"

"i know it is," san nods. "that's why i booked it just for us."

"what?"

"i told them i was bringing a date and they offered to stay open late for us," he shrugs. "i hope that's not weird?"

"no," you reply. "i'm sure they're used to it by now."

"used to what?"

"you bringing dates here," you answer. "i can't be the only lucky lady you've done this with."

"well consider yourself lucky, ace," he says. "you're different."

"like can't be seen in public with me different?" you tease. "san, i'm flattered."

"no ace," he laughs. "i wanted this to be special, but if you want a crowd i can call the team-"

"no," you cut him off, grabbing his hand that's laid out on the table. "i like this. it's nice."

"told you i was gonna spoil you, doll," san smiles. "get used to it."

"should i?" you challenge, but san just continues smiling as a waiter brings by your drinks. you feel your walls falling more and more as the night goes on, as you and san eat some of the best food you've ever had. he's fun to be around, you think. maybe you'll give him more of a chance than you were expecting.

"so. i have a question," san says after the plates from your meal are cleared. you're waiting for dessert, but you're not sure you can eat much more.

"shoot," you tell him. "i ask you plenty, so ask away."

"in the locker room, yesterday i think? you said jongho was your favorite," he finishes with a pout.

"that's not a question," you laugh. "you'd be a shitty reporter."

"compared to you, everyone is," san replies. "but i meant, why is he your favorite? were you serious or just joking?"

"if i had to pick a favorite," you start, "i think it would be jongho. i've always liked catchers, so that works in his favor. he's fun to watch, and a lot of fun to work with."

"you have a thing for catchers?" san teases. "why?"

"not a thing," you say, wishing you could kick him underneath the table. "but maybe? i don't know. catchers do have really nice thighs."

"and outfielders?" san tries.

"never stood out to me," you reply. "it's either catchers or third basemen." you start to explain how your favorite player of all time, the one who got you into baseball, played third base, and you don't worry about sounding too much like a fangirl. you admit to the jerseys, the baseball card collection, all of it, and when you finish you look up to find san watching you with an amused look on his face. "what? too much?"

"no," he shakes his head. "i'm just thinking how good you'd look in one of my jerseys."

"try playing third," you tease. "maybe i'll buy one."

dessert comes then, and your focus turns to the amazing food again. maybe it was just you, but you felt a sort of...tension when you were talking just now. you weren't planning on sleeping with san, really ever, but that look in his eyes when he thought about you in his jersey, maybe the date won't end here.

after another visit from the owner and his wife, and plenty of take out to last you a few days, you're walking back to san's car. there's a chill in the air, so you gravitate to him for warmth. his arm circles around your waist, pulling you to his side, and he squeezes your hip. you feel goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you wonder again where the night might be going.

ever the gentleman, san helps you back into your seat and places your food carefully in the back. you're looking at him now in a new light, imagining how his hands would feel on your hips without a layer of clothes separating your skin from his. you're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't notice san has taken his seat, or that he said something to you. you ask him to repeat it, and he has a happy look on his face as he says, "thanks for going out with me, doll."

"thanks for asking," you reply. "i had a great time."

"good," he nods with finality, starting the car without another word. he doesn't even look at you again until he gets close to your building, and all those thoughts of what would happen next have left your mind. whatever vibe you caught from him in the restaurant was gone, he obviously wasn't planning on coming up to your apartment after this. your suspicions were confirmed when he pulls up to your door, turning to you with that same sappy look. "i had a great time tonight, y/n. thank you."

"yeah, sure," you mewl, gathering your things. "um, the food-"

"take all of it," san insists, twisting back to grab the bags. "this isn't exactly on my in-season diet, so i'm not sure how much i could sneak before the dietician clocks me for it."

"right, thanks," you nod, laden down with bags as you struggle to open your door. "well, thanks."

"you said that already ace."

"right," you repeat. "um, so, see you at work i guess?"

"looking forward to it," he smiles softly. "text me when you get in?"

"right," you say again, stepping out of his car without looking back.

-

the season starts shortly after your date with san, so you're too busy with work to think about it.

except that's a lie, you can't stop thinking about it. how could san be so flirty, act so into you, and then end the night without so much as a kiss goodbye? you don't want it to, but it's bothering you.

you don't have a reason to see him, at work or otherwise, until the first day of the season. you're set up in the dock next to the home dugout so you can get updates or a quick interview for the broadcast. you see san for the first time in days then, sitting there with your notebook and a headset, as he takes the field for warmups. it might be your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear san looks for you as he waits for seonghwa. as soon as his eyes find yours he turns around, jogging to the outfield after. you shake it off and get to work, checking your notes to make sure you've got the info right for the game. san will be the leadoff hitter, and you feel a pit of excitement in your stomach at the thought of watching him play. just from watching him in practice you know he's good, but he's electric when there's a real win on the line. still, you don't let your thoughts linger on him too long. you've got a job to do.

the game runs like clockwork, and the team easily knocks down three outs to switch sides. you don't look up when they walk to the dugout, afraid of catching san's eyes again. you don't look up until you hear the announcer call san's name, watching his back as he walks to the plate. through your headset, you can hear the commentators upstairs in the press box listing off his accomplishments at past teams, painting him in this otherworldly light. he's a superstar for a reason, his stats show that, and the way they're talking about him upstairs shows that everyone is captivated by him.

the pitcher, not intimidated by the silver slugger he's facing, sets up his first pitch. it's a curveball, somewhere in the 80 mph range, and it looks like it's gonna be a ball. but san is confident, his stance strong, his shoulders poised just so, and you watch in amazement as he rears back and completely shreds it. the ball is gone before anyone knows what's happening, and your eyes stay locked on san as he rounds the bases. when he approaches first, he looks directly at you, pointing in your direction as he turns at the bag. your heart is racing, you notice, and you shake off your surprise so you can describe the hit in your already cramped notes.

the rest of the game is exciting, but nothing matches san's leadoff homer. you could tell that lit the team up, an enthusiasm in every at bat, every play. your team wins, by a lot, and you go through the motions of finding players and coaches to interview for the post-game show as fans file out and the grounds crew comes in. the one person you're hoping to snag is nowhere to be seen, though.

by the time you're done with your work on the field, the post-game conference is already over. you're not sure if san gave a quote there and that's why you missed him on the field, but you don't care. the team won't mind, so you make your way to the locker room to find the man who's been running laps through your head all day.

san knows as soon as you enter the locker room that you're looking for him. he's showered and dressed in his outside clothes, his jersey neatly folded on the bench beside him as you approach.

"hey ace," he greets you. "some game huh?"

"it was good," you nod. "nice hit."

"glad you liked it," he replies cockily. "did it for you."

"can i quote you on that?" you ask, and san chuckles.

"come on doll, why the cold shoulder? i did what you asked, i helped your team win. figured that would get me on your good side."

"i just need a quote about that hit," you stand your ground. "i'm risking my innocence the longer i stay here, so if you could just say something arrogant on the record, i'll be on my way."

san can tell something is up, so he returns your formality with some of his own. you're in and out in less than five minutes, heading to the press room to collect your thoughts before you shoot your editor a text about your incoming story. as you stand there typing, you hear someone come up behind you so you start walking toward the exit.

"y/n, wait," san calls, and you want to walk faster. you want to leave and not look back, but he adds a quiet, "please." and you take a deep breath before you turn.

"what's up?" you ask. "i've got a deadline."

"you left this," san says simply, offering you the folded jersey from his locker. "i...whatever. it was my jersey from this game. i want you to have it."

"what?" you're shocked, aware of how much it costs for a player to give away a game worn jersey. it may not be much to san in the long run, but still. it softens your heart and you take it wordlessly, searching for something to say in thanks.

"well," san sighs. "see you tomorrow."

"san, wait!" you call before he can get too far. he looks back at you hopefully, and you jog to catch up with him. "why..." as you trail off, you look up to him and find an unreadable look on his face. "sorry for being a dick earlier, i just-"

"no worries," he shakes his head. "i get it, the season changes things, so-"

"did you take me out the other night to pay me back for helping you at the bar?" you ask what you've been wondering for a few days now. "because, i don't know. i thought we...or i, um, i felt...something. and when you dropped me off, it was like you changed."

"changed how?"

"before that, i thought you were into me," you try to say nonchalantly. "but after..."

"you think i'm not into you now?" he asks sadly, and you nod. "check your facts, ace. i think it's the opposite."

"well i wasn't sure-"

"you want me to prove it?" san asks, taking a step closer to you. "or you got a story you need to get back to?"

"i have time," you whisper, looking in his eyes. they're darker, more serious, a little hooded. that tension you felt the other night is back, and it takes your breath away briefly.

"come with me," san's tugging your hand, dragging you along behind him as he leads you outside. a quick scan of the parking lot tells him you're alone, so he rushes you to his car. again, he helps you in, rushing to toss his things in the back. you're sitting there, his jersey gripped in one hand and your notebook in the other. when he opens his door, you mumble something about your stuff, but he cuts you off. "you can get it tomorrow, ace. i'm taking you home now."

"but my keys-"

"i'm taking you to my place," he cuts you off again, looking to you as he starts the car. "there a problem?

"no," you reply meekly, and san is satisfied. he drives like a madman to his place, not far from the stadium. he parks in the deck below, bringing you with him to an elevator close by. he punches the button to his floor before he pounces, cupping your face to crash his lips into yours.

"can't believe you thought i didn't want you," he grumbles, dragging his hands to your neck, down your arms, to grip your waist. "ridiculous." he kisses you again, pulling you by the waist out of the elevator into his hallway. he only detaches from you to find his keys, hands steady as he undoes the lock. he pulls you inside and doesn't give you a chance to look around, capturing your lips in a kiss again. you finally drop your stupid notebook, embarrassed that you've been holding onto it this whole time. you start to let go of his jersey too, but he stops you. "what are you doing, ace? told you i've been thinking about you wearing my jersey."

"what-"

"put it on, baby," he coaxes you, his hands guiding yours. "let's get you out of this librarian dress and into something a little sexier."

"san, slow down," you say breathlessly, following him into his apartment. he collapses on the couch, watching you with that same fire in his eyes from earlier. "what now?"

"change," he replies. "put the jersey on."

"not fair," you pout. "i'm gonna be naked and i don't even get to see you shirtless?"

san tears his shirt off in record time, sitting back with a challenging look on his face.

"your turn, doll."

with shaky hands, you undo the zipper to your dress, letting it fall as san lets out a hiss of air. you slide your arms into the jersey, amazed that it still smells like his cologne after a game in the sun. you kind of flop your arms out after that, like a 'what now?' and san pats his thigh.

"sit," he commands.

"what?"

"you ask a lot of questions."

"it's my job," you quip back, and san lets his head fall back in a laugh.

"you said you had a thing for thighs, baby. figured you'd be jumping at the chance to ride mine."

spurred on by adrenaline and the growing pit of excitement in your stomach, you do as he says, straddling his thigh as you drape your arms over his broad shoulders.

"what now?" you whisper into his ear, nipping just beneath it to drive him insane. his hands return to your waist, and whispering into your ear, he says, "ride me, doll."

you grind against his thigh, sucking in a breath at the friction. you take it at your own pace, going slow so you don't overwhelm your senses. san's warm skin under your hands, his scent surrounding you, it's intoxicating. you let your hips move on their own accord, picking up speed as the pressure in your core builds. you let out a breathy moan when he bounces his leg, and his grip on your waist tightens.

"how's it feel, baby?" he asks, watching you intently.

"good, san, feels good."

"then go faster," he smirks. "might feel even better." you do, gasping as a hand leaves your waist to trace over your bra. his hand dips beneath the fabric, pulling a breast free before moving to the next cup to do the same. both of his hands find your chest, tweaking your nipples as he watches you unravel above him. "how's it feel now?"

"i'm close," you whine, hips jerking as your core gets too sensitive. you try to stand, to move things along, but san grabs onto your ass and guides you against his thigh.

"if you're close then why are you running away?" he chuckles. "show me how good it feels, ace."

"fuck," you whisper, grinding against him harder. "i'm almost there, but i-i can't, san, need more. need your fingers."

"you do?" he pouts. "i don't think you've earned it."

"i have," you whine, squeezing his thigh between yours. "fuck. if you don't do it i will."

"show me," he challenges, and you stand before he can stop you. you take your panties off, tossing them somewhere before sitting back down on his thigh. you cry out at the new contact, your arousal ruining his pants. you look down and see just how much you're dripping onto his leg, moaning as san guides you faster. you pop two fingers into your mouth and then reach down to rub your clit, crying out as you come.

"fuck, san," you moan, hips sputtering over him as you chase your high. "jesus." you let your head fall to his shoulder, your hand stilling at your core as you catch your breath.

"so dirty, baby," he whispers, brushing your hair away from your neck to trail kisses across your skin. his jersey has fallen from your shoulder, so he takes his time leaving a mark on the exposed skin as you come down. "you look real good in my jersey, making yourself feel good like that."

"what now?" you ask again, nipping at his ear.

"you ready so soon?" he asks. "so eager."

"i'm afraid you're gonna come in your pants," you whisper in his ear. "don't wanna ruin the fun before it even starts."

you shriek then, feeling san lift you like it's nothing. he kicks his bedroom door open before dropping you on the bed, taking a minute to admire you splayed out on his sheets as he undoes his pants. you're still breathless, watching him undress, and you feel your breath catch when he pulls his cock free.

"what, don't think you can handle it?" san asks, tearing a condom packet open with his teeth. "gotta say, i'd be disappointed."

"try me."

san crawls over you next, trapping your hands in his as he drags them above your head. he holds them in place as he guides his cock to your core, slapping it against your clit teasingly. you moan, hips bucking to chase the feeling. he keeps teasing you though, coating his cock in your arousal.

"so wet for me, baby," he groans. "are you like this when i play?"

"no," you grit your teeth. "san, please-"

"please what, baby?" he asks, stopping completely. his tip is pressed to your entrance, but he's not moving, and you squirm beneath him. "use your words, pretty girl. you get this wet when you see me?"

"when i think about fucking you, yeah," you respond honestly.

"and how often is that? just ballpark."

"sometimes."

"every day?" he asks, pressing his tip past your walls. he won't give you more than that, so you whimper, and he smirks. "tell me."

"since we kissed," you admit, wishing you could hide your blushing cheeks.

"aw, baby's been desperate that long?" he tsks. "i'm sorry, doll. didn't know you wanted me that bad."

"just fuck me, san."

"ask me."

"huh?"

"ask me how often i think about fucking you," he replies with a shit eating grin.

"how often?"

he thrusts into you, pulling a moan from deep within your chest. he leans down and kisses you, biting your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. then he whispers, thrusting with each word, "every single day."

he keeps thrusting into you, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. you moan into his mouth, whining his name, and you twist away long enough to ask, "let go of my hands. wanna touch you."

he lets you go, and your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. he groans, egging you on, and you drag your nails down his back as you say, "your shoulders."

"what?"

"your shoulders. they drive me insane," you admit. "catchers have nice thighs, sure, but, fuck, you're built like a god."

"a god?" he smiles, and you can tell you're gonna regret saying that. "what else drives you insane?"

"hm, everything about you?" you reply. "you're infuriating."

"and you're close already," he smirks. "i can feel you clenching around me, baby. this feels good too?"

"so good," you nod. "can i come?"

"wait," he hisses, pulling out as you whine. "patience, baby. wanna try something else."

you let san move you how he wants, sitting up further on his bed as he props your legs open. he slides his hands beneath your legs, almost folding you in half as he cups your head. he moves you so you can see your dripping pussy, shining in the low light of his room.

"help me out, ace," he says, and with shaky hands you guide him back to your entrance. he thrusts, both of you watching as he enters you, and you moan in sync as he thrusts all the way in. he stills for a moment, loving the way you clench around him, and he speeds up, fucking you so fast you can't catch your breath. "shit. look at you, taking me so well."

"can i come now?" you whine, but he shakes his head again. "san!"

"wait for me, baby," he insists, thrusting faster. you can barely take it, but then his hips jerk, and you know he's close. "now, come on my cock, fuck-"

"san, oh my god," you cry out, bucking forward until your forehead is pressed against his, watching as you come around him. you feel him come with you, and you stay trapped in his hold as he slows down. he kisses you softly before he lets go, his hands carding through your hair as he helps you lay down.

"be right back," he whispers, kissing your forehead before he disappears. he comes back with water and a wet washcloth, handing you the cool glass as he cleans you up. you hand it back to him when he's done so he can take a sip, and then he leaves again to toss the condom. he collapses back into bed when he returns, immediately pulling you into his chest as he nuzzles his head into your neck. "can't believe you'd think i didn't want you, doll."

"this might be the first time anyone's proved me wrong," you tease, yelping when you feel him bite your skin. "mean!" he moves to lay his chin on your chest, looking up at you with warmth in his eyes. you brush some of his sweaty hair from his forehead as he speaks.

"do you wanna stay the night?" he asks. "please say yes. but if you don't want to, give me a minute and i can drive you home. but i really want you to stay."

"i'll stay," you nod, cupping his cheek as you stare at him. "you're really handsome, you know?"

"am i?" he smiles. "tell me more."

"that's all you get," you say as you flick his nose, and he scoots up the bed to lay his head next to yours. you're both quiet for a minute, thoughts flooding your head. you don't realize you're frowning until san whines.

"what's that face for?" he pouts, propping himself up on his arm as he stares down at you. "you want to go home."

"no, i'm just thinking," you pout back.

"about?"

"what will the team say if they see our walk of shame?"

"about time," he replies, kissing you before he lays back down. "i talk about you all the time, so i'm sure they'll be thrilled to know i finally got some."

"you're sick," you giggle, pinching him. "but maybe you should go in first. just to be safe."

"whatever you want ace," he hums, looking at you again. "you gonna sleep in my jersey, or can i give you another shirt to wear?"

-

despite your exhaustion from your night with san, you still had a story to write. it wasn't yet midnight, so after san gave you a shirt to sleep in you stayed up, furiously typing on your phone to get the story done in time. you thought san had fallen asleep beside you, his quiet breathing providing a sort of metronome to keep you focused. but as you got to a certain point in your story, you realized you need your notebook. you can't remember where it might be, so you try to quietly slip out of bed and go looking.

"come back to bed," san grumbles, making you jump.

"i thought you were asleep," you whisper, looking at him from the doorway. the sheets have pooled around his waist, and his chest is flushed. you wish you could just lay down with him, rest your head on his warm chest, and fall into the deepest sleep. but you've never filed a story late, and you're not interested in doing so tonight.

"i'm not going to sleep till you do," he answers, rubbing his eyes. he pulls the sheets away and slides out of bed himself, shuffling toward the door after you.

"what are you doing?" you ask, taking a step back.

"if you leave me alone in here i might die," he says seriously. "you looking for your notebook? i put it on my coffee table," he explains, placing his hand at the small of your back while he guides you through his apartment. you barely have a second to grab it from the table before san is pulling you down onto the couch with him, locking you in his hold on his lap.

"um, san?" you ask. "i need my arms." he groans as he loosens his grip, and you try to scoot over to take up the ample space left on the couch.

"uh uh," he shakes his head, looking at you with sleepy eyes. "you're staying right here until you finish."

"but you'll distract me," you pout, which san tries to kiss away.

"distract you, or motivate you to hurry up so we can go to sleep?"

"fine," you sigh, getting comfortable in his lap as you prop your notebook open on his chest. "keep that there for me."

"yes ma'am," he mumbles, closing his eyes as you work. you flip through a few pages and find what you were looking for, trying to concentrate on transcribing the quote, but it's hard. you're not comfortable, so you keep shifting. san's hands tighten around you, but you ignore it. just a few more minutes and you'll be done, but damn, is your leg cramping? you try to move again, but end up yelping when you feel san pinch your thighs. "baby," he whines. "stop moving. i'm getting hard."

"jesus, really?" you ask, shifting again to see for yourself. "oh hello there."

"stop," san chuckles, looking at you with hooded eyes. "are you almost done?"

"i've got a few more sentences, then i need to proofread it," you reply. "so kinda."

"alright," he nods. "keep working, ace." so you do, reading back a few lines to catch your train of thought. you frown though, feeling san's hands trail up your thighs to play with the material of your panties.

"san, stop," you tell him. "you're being a distraction."

"ah, no i'm not," he says, cupping you in his hold as he sits forward. he fidgets with something for a minute before resting back against the cushions, and you gasp when you feel his cock against you. "i'm motivating you, remember?"

"san, what are you doing-"

"just keep working baby," he coos, pulling your panties to the side before sliding his cock through your folds. "want you to sit on it until you finish."

"funny," you twist his nipple, and he hisses.

"ah, no pun intended," he smiles, "but happy coincidence. come on, i'm bored, and if i don't do this i'll fall asleep."

"then sleep! i won't be able to focus with you...in me."

"try," san kisses you, sitting back with a smirk. "i believe in you baby. now keep working."

you look at the time and groan, because you don't have time to argue with him. you watch as he lifts your hips and sinks into you, letting out a shaky breath once your hips are slotted against his. he keeps his eyes on you, taking in every wince, every jolt, every bite of your lip to stop from whimpering. you feel so full, and san is so warm, and you can't focus but you're almost done-

"read the story to me," san says next, breaking through your thoughts once again.

"hold on," you say, completing the final sentence before you scroll back to the top. "on the record i think you're insane."

"that's a weird way to start an article about baseball," san smirks, so you roll your hips to get him to shut up. you start reading your story, and he listens like he's hooked on every word. at the first mention of his name, he lifts you up slightly before bringing your hips back down and you stutter on your words. "come on ace, keep reading."

"fuck you," you breathe out.

"you are," he smirks again, and you grit your teeth as you continue. you speed through the story, but san keeps slowly fucking you as you go. you find a typo and he stills while you fix it, but as you get to the end he picks up speed. when you finally read the last word, you place a hand on his chest and he stops again.

"let me send this to my editor, please, and then you can keep defiling me," you beg.

"i learn so many new words being around you," san jokes, but you're not listening. you manage to send the story at 11:59 exactly, and you toss your phone away before grabbing onto san's shoulders.

"you need a hobby or something," you get out between moans as he starts fucking you again. "fuck. feel so full, san."

"yeah?" he sighs. "you feel incredible. so tight, so warm for me."

"shit, you're not wearing a condom," you realize. "get out."

"hold on," he whines. "i'll pull out. just give me a minute. are you close?"

"very confident in your skills," you point out. "we haven't been fucking that long."

"but i can feel you dripping around me," he says, pinching your hips. "feel you squeezing me. i know you're loving this baby."

"i'm almost there," you fess up, rolling your hips against him to get some more friction. he brings a hand around to your core, his thumb tracing over your clit so teasingly it's driving you insane. you collapse in his hold, your head resting against his shoulder as you let out breathy moans. he slows down, just to tease you more, and you bite his shoulder.

"ow!"

"keep going," you groan against his skin. "gonna come, fuck-" and you feel your high crash into you, hips jerking against san's as you come. you're quick to hop off of him, which he protests, but you sit before him on your knees as you stroke his cock. he's got to be close, so you bring his tip to your lips to suck him into your mouth. he lets go almost immediately, gasping above you as he comes into your mouth. as soon as he's done, he pulls you off of him with a huff.

"show me, doll," he rasps, and you stick your tongue out to show him his release. you swallow most of it, some drips sneaking past your lips so you sit up and wipe them off on the edge of his boxers, still caught around his knees. "hey!"

"you can deal," you tell him, standing with his help. your legs are shaky, and the exhaustion is really hitting you now. "come on, let's go to bed before you keep us up all night."

-

for the next week or so, you and san fall into a habit of going home with each other after each game. the first two series of the season are at home, so it makes things easy for you. you don't have to talk about what you are to san or vice versa, it's just understood that any free time you have will be spent with each other.

you're getting nervous, though, because the first away series is this weekend. you're strictly a local reporter, so you don't travel with the team. you'll report solely based on what the broadcast team on site is saying, or by bugging the team with phone calls. a little piece of you is nervous that san will fall back into his superstar ways, because he did have a reputation before coming here for having...friends...in every city. you try to push that feeling away for now, but it keeps nagging you at the worst times.

like now, san has cornered you in the clubhouse, kissing you in between questions for your next story and all you can think about is the trip this weekend. you're trying to focus on the story, really. the team is on an unbeaten streak, and some of the guys have cited san as the reason for that. word around the team is that his energy and passion for the game has made them better. you're trying to get something heartfelt out of him, but he's distracted.

"baby, i'm doing some of my best work here," he mumbles against your lips. "can't the questions wait?"

"i'm on a deadline san, you know that," you say as you put your hand on his chest and push back. "two more questions, and then i'm all yours."

"fine," he sighs, taking a step back. his hands stay on your waist as you talk, his thumbs rubbing your skin beneath your shirt. you're able to get what you need, so you stop the recording on your phone and put it away.

"you know, if anyone ever hears those, i'd be fired," you tell him as you drape your arms over his shoulders.

"good thing i'm loaded," san smirks. "i can buy their silence and you can keep your job."

"you know i used to be a clean reporter?" you pinch his neck. "you're really blurring my ethical lines here."

"i won't tell if you don't," he whispers, kissing you again. you stay like that, lips locked together, until a buzzing in san's pocket interrupts you. "ah, i should get that."

"who's calling? you don't have friends," you tease him, your uneasy mind wondering if it's one of his usuals from out of state.

"it's the equipment team," he explains, "they've never packed my stuff for an away trip before so they want to confirm before they ship out."

san answers the call, but keeps a protective arm hooked around you so you can't leave. you distract yourself with a stray thread on his shirt as he talks, and when he hangs up he places his hand over yours.

"whatcha thinking about, ace?"

"when do you leave for the series this weekend?" you ask nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze.

"day after tomorrow," he replies. "i figured we'd get an off day here, but they want us to come in for an extra practice to stay sharp."

"gotta keep that win streak going on the road," you tell him. "like you promised."

"exactly," he smiles. "so when will you leave?"

"huh?"

"for the series," san asks in an equally confused tone. "you're coming with us, right?"

"i don't travel with the team," you shake your head. "so i'll be here, wasting away."

"aw, you're gonna miss me," san coos, pulling you into his side as he walks you down the hall. "guess i gotta fit in as much y/n time as i can before i go."

"seems like it," you give him a tightlipped smile before pulling away. "i gotta go back out to the field, i'm doing a report in a few minutes. so i'll text you when i'm done?"

"sure," he nods, kissing your forehead before you go.

-

you went back to your apartment at the end of the day, tired and mind racing. you're not even dating san, why are you so concerned about what he might get up to on this road trip? you try to busy yourself until san comes by with dinner, so you're in the middle of washing dishes when there's a knock at your door. you let san in, stepping to the side in your small entryway to let him through. it leaves him standing incredibly close to you as you close the door, but once the space is cleared he stays where he is.

"you can come in, weirdo," you laugh. "do you need me to move?"

"no hug? no kiss?" he complains, pouting his lips as if waiting for a smooch.

"my hands are wet," you say as you hold them up, "so no hug, but-" you stand on your toes and aim a kiss perfectly on top of lips, spinning around quickly after to go back to the kitchen. "put everything on the coffee table, i'll get plates."

you walk into your living room to find a feast laid out for you. how'd you miss san carrying in so much food? you place plates down for you both, sitting next to san so your thighs touch. he piles food on your plate as you tell him about the rest of your day, but when he keeps going you make him stop.

"do you think i never eat?" you laugh. "why the mountain of food?"

"i'll be out of town for a while," he shrugs. "gotta make sure you're taken care of before i go."

"right," you nod. "thank you, but this is plenty."

"want me to feed it to you?" he asks with a sappy look on his face, but you know he's serious.

"i'll kick you out if you even try."

"then what about you feeding me?"

"are you excited for the first road trip of the year?" you change the subject.

"i am," he says slowly. "not much to see there, though, so it'll be a boring trip. especially if you're not coming..."

"can't," you remind him. "the big man won't allow it."

"but let's say, i don't know, a player on the team had an extra ticket to the game...then what?"

"huh?" you look at him confused. "what are you saying?"

"if i told you i got you a ticket to the game, would you come?" he asks sincerely. he grabs your hand and squeezes, saying, "i need my good luck charm there."

"san, i don't know," you shake your head. "how would i get there? where would i stay?"

"you could travel with the other wives and girlfriends," he answers. "apparently it's a whole big trip, they do this every year for the first away series."

"but i'm not a wife or a girlfriend," you tell him. "i'm a reporter."

"then why don't you leave the notebook at home and just come to the game as my girlfriend?"

"your girlfriend?" you smile. "i think i can do that."

[nocturnalcharm]

NSFW Alphabet (Logan Howlett)

𐙚 cw: everything nsfw that you can imagine. i made logan SO fucking horny lol 𐙚 a/n: all of these are just my ~opinions~ so feel free to disagree w me lol also maybe a lil self indulgent so probs not v accurate to wolvie but its alr :,) 18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

— he helps clean you up, considering he goes like 4 fucking rounds and by the end of it, you can barely walk. helps you to the bathroom n all hehe

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

— hmm.. feel like his favorite body part on himself is his arms. and on you it’s your ass. he’s def an ass man.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— so sorry but he cums a LOT. like a fuckton of cum, no pun intended.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— he works out, not just bc of his job etc, but bc he likes to be able to throw you around like a ragdoll ohmygoshhh.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

—mhmm yes maam. he knows exactly what he’s doing, very experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

— rly likes standing up, holding you under your legs. ALSO doggy and he pulls your hair, so your back is arched. ALSO ALSO,, missionary bc he likes to see your face

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

— def serious. never goofy. maaaybe if yall are drunk he’d be less serious but other than that.. nah.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

— he’s hairy for sureee. very hairy. keeps it tidy for you tho.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

— hahaha.. not romantic. he’s dominant and rough and mean. talks dirty, slaps, chokes

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— tbh, feel like he doesn’t masturbate. like he’d 100% rather fuck you, and if he can’t, he’d rather just wait til he can.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

— dirty talk, spanking, lil bit of bdsm, likes to handcuff you sometimes, i could go on..

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

— bed or shower. he likes the shower for easy cleanup heheh. but tbh will fuck you anywhere if he’s horny enough

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

— lingerie. and when you sit on his lap!! also when you touch him a lot in public, doesn’t even have to be dirty, just like holding his arm, rubbing his back,,,, oof

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

— cuckholding. he’s way too possessive and jealous. not that you’d want another man to fuck you bc he does such a good job.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

— definitely likes eating pussy. feel like he can cum JUST from eating you out. you love sucking his dick too though. 69 often.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

— starts out nice & slow, so you can get used to his cock, but once you’re good, he is a fucking jackhammer; rough and fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

— i feel like he fucks whenever and wherever he can, no matter the time limit. he is horny. like all the time. so yeah he likes quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

— likes to experiment. normally it’s you bringing up a new idea and he’s always down to try it, but if he’s not a fan, he will tell you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

— oof.. multiple rounds. that man has STAMINA. like 3-4 rounds, or more depending on his day. typically ends with you begging for him to cum bc you can’t take anymore.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

— he doesn’t care for toys, just prefers you and him alone together. but wouldn’t be opposed to trying it if you really wanted to try something

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

— he loves to tease you; loves to watch you squirm just from his words

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

— he definitely does dirty talk and isn’t against moaning/grunting but he’s not loud.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

— just imagining you in the middle of fucking and you ask him to slap you, and he’s a lil hesitant at first bc he doesn’t want to hurt you but you both end up liking it ughhh

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

— he’s big girl… very girthy, and like 8 inches long.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

— HIIIGH. extremely high. can go multiple rounds, but it’s good bc you can too

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

— he falls asleep like right after, soon as he and you are cleaned up, he’s knocked out

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Taglist:

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[hw4-l1z]

hi! I was the one who requested the "fuck the stress out of me" fic. I loved it so much omg I was just reading it for like the 15th time. I got another one if you don't mind

<3 take you time with it tho <3

instrumentalist reader and hyunjin. hyunjin has always admired reader's fingers, how they would move so flexibly on a violin, or so fast on a piano. he sends a text to one of his members like ("omg his fingers I swear. i'm so jealous of his future partner") or smth along those lines, but he accidentally sends it to mn. and then mn fingers him so damn well.

sincerely, me, a violinist, living vicariously through this.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Idk much about instruments so...sorry I tried😭

Sub!hyunjin x Dom!m!reader

Cw: fingering// hyunjin almost has a panic attack// spit as lube// finger sucking// mentions of saliva// handjob//

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Hyunjin= purple text

Reader= green text

It was a simple little mistake. His stupid ass fingers clicked the wrong contact. He hadn't realized until he got a message from you, seeing that your message had made no sense he clicked on the notification thinking maybe YOU text the wrong person.

His heart fucking dropped. His confused expression turned into a face of pure fear. There he saw that his message that was meant for felix was instead sent to you. He was so embarrassed face turning red as he read over his own message again and again.

It was a picture of your hands whilst you were playing the piano followed by:

"HOLY SHIT HIS HANDS HIS FUCKING HANDS, HIS FINGERS AHHHH I NEED THEM IN ME NOW"

"His future partner is gonna be so fucking lucky GOD I'M JEALOUS"

How could he be so stupid. He should've properly looked at the contact he was sending these texts to ESPECIALLY since they were horny ones. It's common for him and lix to send messages thirsting over men but now he's not sure he wants to be doing that anymore. He reads over your message.

"Ummm...thank you?? Was that meant for me?"

He was about to reply apologising before the speech bubble appears signalling that you're typing.

"Hyunjin?"

"Are you still in the building? Where are you I wanna talk to you"

His heart begins to pound in his chest, his breathing picks up as his eyes well up with tears. He's about to have a panic attack. He can't believe this is happening. He wants to message you back but the other part of him wants to block your number and avoid you for the rest of his life. But he loves you too much to cut you out his life like that so he decides to message back.

"Y/n, I'm so fucking sorry"

"I'm still here I'm in chan-hyung's studio"

"It's alright let me just talk to you, come back to the room"

"Please"

He stand up on shaky legs as he leaves the studio room and towards the room you're in. He stands outside the door for a minute, trying to calm himself down and wipe away his tears. He builds up the courage finally, knocking on the door lightly before opening the door. You're sitting there patiently wating on the small couch in the room. You look up at him and tell him to sit down next to you.

"Hyunjin...I-"

He cuts you off before you can speak "Y/n I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I promise I wasn't trying to be weird, I understand if you think I'm gross but I just wanna apologise, it was wrong and weird and out of order and-"

"HYUNJIN" you shout, shutting him up quickly. "Slow down, take a breath...I'm not mad at you I just wanna know...who exactly have you been sending those messages to" you quirk up a brow. You knew about his crush on you but you never knew he was sending his horny thoughts about you to someone.

"Ummm...felix..." He says shyly. "Felix? You thirst over me to Felix? Hmm" you look away surprised. "Does he do the same? Not about me but does he thirst over anyone to you?" You ask.

A little smile grew on his lips, realizing you're more interested than mad, "yeah" he laughs through his nose "he thirsts over channie-hyung alot".

"Hmm I'm not surprised to be honest...so you wanna talk about what you said hmm?" You said smirking at him. His eyes widen as he turns to face you "talk about it? Like what?" He questions.

"Well maybe talk about what exactly you meant, what you want me to do with them" you give him a teasing grin. His face flushes as he sees you moving closer to him slowly. "Do I have to say it? You read it yourself you know what I want" he looks at you with sparkling eyes.

"I wanna hear it for myself. Tell me what you want darling" you say, your face now nearly touching his, your noses brushing lightly against eachothers. "I...want you to use your hands on me" he breathes, going for the kiss before you pull yourself back, pushing him away a little. "Ah ah ah, not what those messages said. I'll give you what you want if you just use your words and tell me what you really want".

You raise your eyebrows up at him quickly, urging him to say it. He looks at the ground before quietly saying "want you to finger me". You shake your head, hooking a finger under his chin and making him look you in the eyes "louder and more clear" you rasp. He gives you a frustrated look before finally saying it "I want you to finger me please" he begs louder this time. "Good boy" you say as you tap his cheek.

Your lips crash onto his, moving him back until he's laying down. Your hips pressing into his so perfectly as your tongue enters into his mouth. He moans into the kiss as one of your hands move down his body, cupping his length. You begin to lightly squeeze and rub it from outside his shorts as he squirms under you.

You waste no time as you begin to yank off his shorts and underwear leaving him in just his shirt. His cock leaking against his lower abdomen as you spread open his legs. You stick two fingers into his mouth to wet them, swirling them around as he sucks and coats them perfectly. Once you feel they're wet enough you pull them from his mouth a string of saliva connecting your fingers and his lips. You move your hand down and in-between his legs, pressing them against his puckered hole. You rub it gently before slowly sliding on of your long slender fingers into him, it reaches further than he can reach with his own and it feels so fucking good.

You slip in a second finger before you begin to slowly move them in and out of him. Your other hand wrapping around his weeping cock, stroking it at the same pace as your fingers inside him. He moves his hands behind his back to lift his hips up and give himself more leverage to make it easier for you. Your fingers are pumping into him faster now, moving at such a pleasurable pace as your hand on his cock does the same.

You curl your fingers up as the pads of your fingers press against his prostate deliciously as his hips buck up with a loud moan. He looks gorgeous. Such a mess and all because of your fingers. You lean back down whilst your hands are still working rapidly, kissing his deep and full of lust. His head is spinning, the feeling of his hole being used and the warmth around his cock is all too much. He can already feel himself about to cum. He knows it's quick but he just can't help how good he feels.

His eyes roll back as his jaw slacks open, you pull away from him slightly, watching the look on his face as he cums all over his tummy. A strained moan leaving him as his body tenses through it. Once his body relaxes again he's panting and jerking up into your hand as he rides out his orgasm. Your cock twitching in your pants at the sight of it all.

"Care to help me now?"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[ughdontbeboring]

Black Robe

Feyd x WoC Reader (can be read by anyone tho)

you try to win over Feyds sentimental side (and cock) to avoid punishment.

warnings: Feyd bc let’s be real, a little smut

note: even though it’s short this is NOT the WIP I’m supposed to be working on but here we are 🙂 I seen TikTok’s of girls flashing their men during arguments so situation is inspired by that. I literally just wrote this during work hours haha 😅

🗡️

The long flowy black silk you opted for did nothing to shield your body from the slight chill that always seemed to embrace the fortress but it was his favorite. Not because it was the prettiest but because it was the one you wore the night you finally allowed him to have you. The night he completely ruined you.

He had been blind sided by your sudden appearance in his bedchambers that night. He knew it was you because no one else could open the door with their palm, only you have that privilege anyone else had to be granted entry. Though it didn’t mean he’d ever expected you to come to him to even make use of that privilege. You were so frighten of him in the beginning, your fear and curiosity drove him to fist his cock many nights when sinking himself into another no longer brought him the relief he sought.

A special key card that had specific times slots approved before hand by his palm. One unfortunate slave learned that deadly lesson when she hadn’t finished cleaning his room within the allotted time. She was still trapped inside when the Na Baron came back from a blood rage that hadn’t been quenched.

So this robe had sentimental meaning, it was odd thinking of such a word to describe how a Harkonnen could ever feel about anything let alone him.  But now you knew him in a way no one does and NEVER will. Not even his beloved darlings knew this kindness from him, knew of this love he held only for you.

So here you stand banking on all that to spare you what would surely come. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy it mostly but you knew this grievance demanded pain and you were still sore for your slow fucking this morning before he left you for the day. Thinking his little wife would surely do as she was told.

Your eyes trained on the door that fit seamlessly into the black wall. Your breathing foolishly starts to settle before spiking at the sounds of his shouts. The deep rasp somehow heard perfectly through the thick walls. The door slowly opens with a soft mechanical gust of wind.

You tense as his eyes find the spot immediately. Of course he already knows exactly where it is, the little red mark on your cheek bone. His stormy ocean blue eyes, the same as your home planet find yours almost instantly after his quick examination.

The air is knocked out of you, and if you hadn’t spent the time with him that you did over the course of the last 6 months you would have fallen over from the impact of his raging stare alone. Only now you know it’s never really at you, even when it is your fault. You also know now that he would never hurt you in a way you hadn’t asked for. 

His sharp eyes roam over the robe and he hesitates for a moment. 

Good you think. 

“Hus-“

“I find it hard to believe I didn’t make myself clear this morning” He says cutting you off swiftly with whatever’s plea was bound to spill.

“Fe-“

“You do not listen little wife, you were not to spare with anyone but me”

“I know but yo-“

“YOU DISOBEYED M-“ He starts to roar before his plush lips fall open for a moment before his mind quickly adjust to the view before him.

Your black robe pools at your feet as your whole body pricks from the chill and the hunger that instantly forms in your husband’s eyes before even he realizes.

You can tell he’s stuck between punishing you and just enjoying you without making a point.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts you don’t notice how quickly he approaches. Within seconds he’s before you towering above you. And you know you’ve got him when his large hand wraps around your neck causing you to look up at him from under your lashes.

“Your sweet cunt will not get you out of your punishment dear wife” He rasps as his hard clothed cock ruts into your stomach.

“Then what will Husband?” You ask trying to hold back your moans as you hold eye contact with the universes most feared man.

A wicked black smile is your only response.

You’re in such a daze from the passionate kiss your lips are suddenly trapped in by the beautiful man before you that your foggy brain doesn’t process the rest of his movements.

Your mind tries to catch up with your legs that are wrapping around his waist, his large battle ready hands gripping harshly into the globes of your ass cheeks and how suddenly the large bulbous head of his almost purple cock filled with black blood is pushing past your wet folds. You gasp as your forehead leans into his. Both of your breathing wet and heavy, your lips ghosting over each others.

“You may escape your punishment just yet sweet one, the solider already paid dearly for you both” He rasps with a condescending tone as he drops you down onto his large thick cock.

You don’t even have a second to respond to his words as you scream out. Your body completely overwhelmed by the size of him, every-time feeling like the first all those months ago in the most deliciously painful way. You’re sure your finger nails have broken skin on his upper back as you try to hold on. You soak in the deep animalistic groan that rips from his chest at the feel of you so tight and wet around him.

Your husband Feyd fucks you down on his cock like his own personal sex toy as your mind slips further and further away from the poor soldier who paid with his life for sparing with you after you begged him too.

When you aren’t being spilt open on your husbands impressive cock you’ll scold yourself and take note to be more mindful of how disposable the lives around yours are.

😅😮‍💨

[daydreams-after-dark]

Hi love >_<!! How are you???

Because it's almost my birthday. (just 15 days !) Could you maybe write something for my birthday? :> I am requesting it very early because I'm so busy with my own life, including my mental health, so I won't be online often ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜)  ( 1 am totally okay, tho!! So don't worry about me!) You can post it before or after my birthday. I don't really mind when!

Something about birthday sex mixed with slight angst if you don't mind?? (Pure smut is totally okay!) Make it filthy and add whatever you want, as I already said once; I'm open for everything!! (I'm a slut ngl..)

P.s. I'm into piss lately..shhh

- lots of love 🎪

pairing: male escort!lino x fem birthday girl reader (I hope it's okay that I have chosen Lino for this?)

Your friends pay for a sex worker for your birthday, but what happens when arrives and you already know each other?

A/n: Hey Happy Birthday 🎪 my love. I hope you are well and taking care of yourself 😘 Tending to real life and mental health is extremely important.

I hope that my little scenario is okay, I am struggling with writing lately. The ideas are there, but the execution is not as good as I want it to be.

warnings below the cut

CW: Piss Kink (f on m), breeding kink, unprotected p in v (pls be safe), restraints, paid sex, birthday sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering.

You’re not really sure why you decided to dial the number on the gift card your best friends gave you. Really? Why of all the presents they could have chosen, did they think it appropriate to gift you a male escort/gigalo? One who does home visits at that?

Yep! They knew you hadn’t had sex in almost a year, and they knew you really needed to get laid.

You’d never paid for sex before. Technically, you’re not paying for sex in this instance either, your friends have. But still. What are you thinking? Letting a stranger come in and do things to you.

The doorbell chimes and you let out a shaky breath. “Happy Birthday, Bitch!” You wink at yourself in the mirror and take one last look over your body. You’d shaved your legs, popped on a little thong, and slipped a short satin dress on. No bra. Fuck! You sigh. It’s basically a short satin camisole nightie. Will this be okay?

The doorbell chimes again and you hurry to open the door to your apartment.

“Lino?” You gasp in surprise when you see your brother’s best friend standing in your doorway and not the escort. You squint your eyes. It is him isn’t it? You haven’t seen him in five years. But it has to be him.

“Y/n? Noona?” He smiles and takes a good look at your face. “Um… I…ah…must have the wrong address.” He begins nervously. “Let me just check where I’m supposed to be.” He whips out his phone. “Unit 4, 70…”

“Yep. That’s this address.” You say awkwardly.

You stare at each other for a moment as realisation hits.

“You booked an escort?”

“You’re the escort?”

Lino laughs while you hide your face in your hands “Fuck! This is so embarrassing.” You wail.

“So you did hire an escort. Well then... Do you want me to come in? Leave? You’re the client. It’s your call.”

“My friends organized it. They think…” you trail off.

So many questions run through your mind. Why is Lino an escort? And dear god, what if he tells your brother about this? Is Lino actually going to fuck you? No! That’s probably very unlikely. But he is extremely attractive… and he is paid for… You bite your lip.

“So? What’s it going to be?”

“Hmm?” Your thought are broken.

“Shall I stay, or leave?” He repeats.

——

You couldn’t turn him away, that would have been rude right? So you brought him in, offered him a drink and snack and invited him to sit on the couch with you.

Now you’re half an hour into a conversation about what you had both been doing for the past few years. You learned that being a gigalo… sorry, escort, is Lino’s side hustle while he brings to life his big dream of opening a restaurant-slash-dance entertainment establishment.

“Like a strip club?” You raise an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes. “No, not a strip club. It’s going to be for all ages.”

He learned about you too. What you do for a living, your bad breakup a year ago, how it’s your birthday and your friends organized this as a gift.

He unzips his black backpack that you hadn’t even realized he had with him, and retrieves a tablet.

“Alright, let’s see what you have booked.” He opens an app and smirks as he skims over the details.

“Wait! What are you reading?” You try to catch a glimpse of the screen but he pulls it away.

“I don’t know what my friends told you…” you tug your hair wishing you were invisible.

"it says here: vanilla sex." He turns the tablet to show you.

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Those fucking bitches think I want vanilla sex?" You shriek. "Or was that the cheapest option?" you pout.

Lino laughs haughtily. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. Or orgasm giver. What is it I've read on Instagram - 'don't bite the hand that fingers you?'"

"Give it here." You snatch the device from him. "Am I suppose to sign something? Tick some boxes? Consent to some shit?" You scroll the screen.

"The next tab over." Lino leans over your shoulder. "Yep. Right there." He pokes his tongue out of his mouth slightly as his eyes catch some of the "inclusions" that can be selected.

In your desire to prove your friends wrong, and that you don’t want just vanilla sex, you hastily tick every single box on the form and sign the bottom. "There! Surprise me! It is my birthday afterall." you huffed.

Lino raises an eyebrow. Then suddenly he pulls you by an arm and a leg forcing you to straddle him. You yelp in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced with a sigh, and you really hope he didn’t notice.

His face is awfully close to yours and you can already feel yourself growing wet with anticipation. Are you really about to be fucked by your little brother’s best friend? The one that used to have sleepovers at your house. The one that used to wear cat print pyjamas?

“Do you even know what you signed up for?” He whispers eyeing you up and down and swallowing hard.

“I said surprise me.” You gulp.

His hands run up your thighs. “Is this thing expensive?” He asks gently tugging at the hem of your black satin dress.

You shake your head.

“Good.” He growls as he tears the garment from your body. Your hands fly up to cover your exposed breasts, but he tugs them away roughly. “I used to wonder what your tits looked like. Fuck! They’re perfect.” He sighs and takes a nipple into his mouth. You gasp and throw your head back. You grind against his crotch, and you notice he has hardened in his jeans.

“Wanna know a secret?” He says as he pops off your nipple and licks it. “I used to get hard when you’d walk around your house braless.” He bites down your nipple making you cry out. “Sometimes,” he begins to pepper kisses across your chest towards your other nipple. “You’d show me your nipples through your shirt. They’d get so hard, poking against the fabric. I’d have to go jack off. That’s how hot I thought you were.”

“Were?” You raise an eyebrow.

"Were. Are. Always will be." He locks eyes on you and you feel the tension in the air thicken.

"Are you really going to fuck me, Lino?" you whisper quietly.

"I'm going to make this a night you're never going to forget." He replies huskily.

"You didn't answer my question." You smirk, threading your fingers through his dark locks.

He holds onto your ass as he slips off the couch to lay you down onto your soft fluffy rug in the middle of your living room.

Leaning over you, propped up on one arm and cupping your cheek with the other, he leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss. The gentleness is unexpected, but it isn't long until he is kissing you more purposefully. His tongue glides over yours making you hum into his mouth. He moans at that, deepening the kiss even further, like he wants to possess you.

You hold on for dear life as he presses his strong thigh between your legs, nudging them open so he can press hard against your core. Your back bows off the floor and you whimper. Fuck, you must sound so desperate. But it has been so long since you had anyone, besides yourself, has touched you.

He presses his thigh against you again and chuckles when you respond with another moan. "Such pretty noises, Noona." He smiles against your cheek. "If I were to touch your pussy, I bet it would be soaking." He leans up and looks at you. "I'm dying to know."

He looks around the living room, seemingly making some kind of assessment, and then he's back into his backpack. You lean up on your arms to see him with a velvet-like rope in his hands. Your cunt clenches and an excitement swirls around your stomach.

"Lay back down." He instructs, and then he's tying your wrists together with the soft rope. He positions your arms above your head and secures the ropes to the leg of your chunky timber coffee table.

But that's not all. Lino is back with more ropes, this time tying one around each of your legs. He manages to position you in such a way that he can secure the other end of the ropes to the little wooden legs of your couch, forcing you to be spread open for him.

You feel so exposed and so utterly vulnerable, even with your tiny thong on. But even that doesn't stay on for long, as Lino cuts it off with scissors.

He sits back on his heels between your legs and takes you in. "That's better. You won't be able to squirm away. Now I can get a good look at your pussy." He bites his lip and runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. You shiver at his touch, not sure how you're going to last. You're on the verge of an orgasm as it is.

"So fucking wet, Noona." He states as he spreads your folds gently and runs his thumb through your arousal. He slides a finger into your tightness, then a second. "Tight too. It's been a while, hmm?" He teases.

"Unfortunately, yes." You cry.

"Let's take care of you then." He promises and without warning begins to finger fuck you hard, fast, and angled directly into your g-spot.

"No! Lino! Not yet...can't come yet!" You beg.

"Oh Kitten, you are gonna come when I say, and as many times as I say."

He's relentless with his fingers. You can't squirm away, forced to take what he is giving you. You're cunt is already producing the most lewd sounds you've ever heard. How can you possibly be this wet? How can Lino be so good at this? Your eyes roll back as you give in, accepting the pleasure. The tightness inside of you ready to burst. "Oh god... fuck..." you pant. Your chest feels flush and you know your face is turning a slight shade of pink as you edge closer to release.

"That's it... come all over my fingers." He coaxes.

You come hard, your back lifting off the floor, your thighs trembling, and tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

You collapse, panting. "Lino," you say as your try to catch your breath. "So good...so fucking good. How are you this good?" You sob.

"Shhh. It's okay. Here. Suck these." he lays beside you and pushes his glistening fingers into your mouth. You've never really had anyone shove their fingers into your mouth before, but it feels so erotic. You moan as you taste yourself on him, urging him to push his fingers deeper into your mouth. You make a pathetic sound when he goes to pull them away, so he lets you suck and lightly choke on them a little longer.

"If that's how you suck my fingers, my cock's not going to stand a chance." he says with a half smile. Your eyes snap open and you stare at him with pleading eyes.

"Oh you wanna suck it do you?" he pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

You nod. "Please! Let me..."

He sucks in a breath. "Well, I can't say no to the birthday girl. Or client. Especially when they selected everything under the sun on their terms of agreement. Including, golden showers."

"Wait! What?" You lift your head, horrified. Minho looks at you incredulously, as he strips his clothes off. You are stunned. Partially because you didn't even know that was on the list, and also because Lino naked is the most beautiful thing you have ever laid eyes on.

"It's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want." He says as pumps his delicious looking cock a few times. He seems to be hard as stone and leaking. He's leaking for you? Fuck.

You don't have time to even think more about the piss option, as Lino positions himself so you are in 69 position. You open your mouth wide, allowing him to sink his cock into your eager mouth, while at the same time he buries his face in your pussy. You moan around his thickness as he demonstrates just how skilled he is with his mouth.

He eats you out like a starved man. Lapping at you eagerly. You try to grind against his face, but he holds you firm so you can't move. He groans against you, making you whimper around his cock. It's a delicious cycle, each of your sounds and vibrations from your mouths, making the other respond in the same way. Lino starts to thrust into your mouth, his balls hitting you in the face each time. You want him to suffocate you, and you wish your hands were free so you could pull him in deeper.

All you can do is try to meet his thrusts by lifting your head as much as you can and hope he gets the message. He does get the message, and fucks your face as he slides several fingers into your cunt. He slurps on your clit and hits that sweet spot inside you, all while you're struggling for air.

It's too much and you come again. This time harder than before. He works you through it, slowing both his cock and fingers down to a slow pace. He eventually peels himself off you and sits beside you panting.

"Lino?" You whimper looking at his disheveled hair, and drenched chin. "Didn't you want to come down my throat?" you panted.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to?" he says shyly. He unties you from your restraints and you sit up and give him a devious look.

"What?" he looks back at you suspiciously.

"When you used to jack off because of me, what did you think about?"

"Oh, right. That?" he lays down on the rug beside you. "Well." he pauses to think. "I often imagined you riding me. Like... You couldn't contain your urges, so you'd find me in your brother's room and push me down and force me to breed you." He admits.

"In my brother's room?"

"Yah! He wouldn't be there in the fantasies." He growled. But you were already moving into position.

"So... you mean I'd climb over you like this?" You throw a leg over him hovering over his needy cock.

He nods and swallows hard.

"Then what? I sink down onto your thick, hard cock, because I need it so badly?'

"Y-yes. Wait!" His eyes flick open in horror. "Condom."

You lean down over him and kiss him on the mouth. You really don't know where this confidence is coming from. Maybe learning that Minho had it bad for you when he was younger makes you feel powerful.

"Oh, but Lino. How are you gonna breed me if we use a condom?" you whisper.

"Fuck!" He moans and pulls you down hard over his length until he is completely inside of you.

"What are you doing to me, Noona?" He whimpers as you start to roll your hips. He's so deep, and fills you so perfectly, and you can already feel your third orgasm building.

Lino's hands are all over you, caressing, squeezing, digging his fingers in. Eventually his hands find purchase on your hips, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise as he rocks you hard on his cock. Your clit grinds perfectly against his body. It's rough, fast, slippery from your slick. He slaps your ass a few times and growls when your flesh jiggles.

"I'm close." You squeak.

"Fuck! Me too. Me too. Piss on me." He pants.

"What?" You cry, but you don't slow down. You need to come so bad that nothing is going to slow you down.

"Do it." he cries. "Hurry!"

Fuck! Really? He really wants you to? Can you even do it? You aren't sure that you're body will even let you, even if you wanted to.

"Do it now, Noona. I'll give you all my cum if you do." He sounds so desperate underneath you, that you close your eyes and let go.

You feel a warmth pool on his pelvis between your legs. You dare yourself to open your eyes. You peek through your lashes to see Lino with the most aroused expression you have ever seen in your life. Then he starts fucking into you. Painfully hard. The breath knocked from your lungs with each thrust. You feel him grow even hard inside you as he is on the verge from exploding, and it sets r you orgasm.

You clamp down hard around him like a vice. He cries out, filling you to the brim with his cum, just like he promised he would.

Your orgasms are intense, long, satisfying.

You flop down on top of him, allowing your heart to calm and your breath to return to normal.

"Lino. I hope there was an inclusion where you clean up and replace damaged items in your terms of service. Cos this rug is well and truly fucked."

"I'll take care of it." He hums.

"Lino?"

"Hmm?" he wraps his arms around you.

"This was the best birthday present ever."

"You're very welcome." He smiles to himself, but you don't see it because your face is on his chest.

“Happy birthday, Noona.”

————

A/n: I feel like Lino breached several rules as an escort… unsafe sex, knowing the client, having had a crush on the client in the past… but this is how the story turned out… so…. 🥴

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @ismokeeweed @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @teddy-stay @lunearta

[jetii]

hello lovely!!! if you have the time for it with your follower celebration, i’d looooove #21 with hunter 🤭 or if you get too many reqs for him with howzer or wolffe! tysm, and congrats on this big milestone!!!! 💗💗💗💗

okay so i got a lot of requests for #21 so i'm trying to do something different for each! also a slightly different style than i'm used to with some slightly more unhinged smut. @a-cryptid-called-magetha come get your man

A Game

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 5,049

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, smut, friends with benefits to lovers, Frat Batch era Hunter, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, underwear kink?, the most dominant Hunter I'll ever write, he's still a simp tho

Prompt: 21. “Moan a little louder, cyare. Let all of 79s know who’s fucking you.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You’ve played this game a hundred times, so you know that when Hunter meets your eyes across the bar, you have a choice. You can walk over and talk to him, or you can ignore him. 

The first will take you on the route of the seducer. He’ll buy you a drink, and you’ll let him. You’ll let him slide his hands up your skirt, and you know where it ends.

You can already feel him behind you, his breath in your ear, his lips on your skin. You can hear him say the things he always says, the words that’ll make you feel like there’s no one else who has ever made you feel the way that he does. He won't be wrong.

Or, you can look away, and let him come to you. The seduced. It isn't like he won't find his way over. It isn't like he isn't always there. You'll pretend that you don't see him until you feel the heat of him right behind you, his presence filling the room, his hands on the back of your chair.

You'll pretend you're not thinking about him and what you could do with him. You'll pretend not to want it, because you know the game, and you know how to play it well.

You can tell yourself that you aren't going to give in. You're not going to let him kiss you, and touch you, and fuck you. But it's a lie. You are going to. And it infuriates you that you're still doing this. It makes you angry, and you can't quite figure out why.

You don't look at him again, because if you look at him, you'll be done for. It's not that you haven't had this conversation a thousand times. It's just that sometimes it feels like it's not a game anymore. It feels like something real, and you hate the part of you that wants to believe that. You hate the part of you that still lets you think that there's a chance.

So you don't look. And, even though he's the hunter, it's you who waits. It's you who watches. You don't have to turn your head to see him. You don't have to watch. You already know how it will play out. You're only here for the ending.

Hunter doesn't come to you right away. He takes his time, talking to his squad, pretending that he isn't watching you, pretending that he doesn't know exactly where you are. You know he can see the tension in your body. You can see it too, because you can't stop the way your hands clench, the way your thighs shift, the way your back straightens. You can't keep from turning your head to look at him.

It's then that he makes his move. He crosses the room to stand beside you, and the rest of the bar fades into the background. He doesn't touch you, doesn't even come close. Instead, he leans in and speaks, and his words are the ones that make you weak. "Let me get you a drink."

The thing is, you shouldn't let him. This isn't supposed to be happening. You aren't supposed to be here. Not with him.

"No." You shake your head. It's the first time you've ever said it, and you aren't sure how it feels. "I'm not interested."

He gives you a look, like maybe he doesn't understand what's happening, like he didn't expect to have to try this hard. Then, he looks down, and when his eyes meet yours again, you feel something shift. He knows.

His voice is different when he speaks, and he's so much closer now. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You nod, and it's not the first lie you've told tonight, but this one feels better, and so does the next one, the one where you tell him, "I have to go."

You leave the bar, and he doesn't follow. Not this time.

It's a good start.

The second time, you're not going to give in.

You don't know if you can say no again, but you have to try. Because there are things that matter. Things like love, and trust, and respect. There's a future.

You want that future. You want it more than anything, and that's what you have to remember.

Hunter walks in, and you think maybe he's going to ignore you. He’s talking with one of his brothers, the one that joined the Batch a few months back, and they seem engrossed in whatever they're talking about. You feel a flood of relief, and maybe a little disappointment.

But then, Hunter meets your eyes, and you realize that he hasn't forgotten. Across the floor, you're frozen in place, and all the things you should say, all the things you should do, have left your head. His eyes are dark, and the room is crowded, but somehow, it's like there's no one else here.

When he looks at you, it's like the whole world is falling away.

You're the first to break the contact, looking down and away, pretending you didn't see him. You feel a flush creeping up your neck, and you hope no one notices.

You can't do this.

You shouldn't do this.

It's the only thing on your mind as the music pounds through the speakers, and the crowd surges around you. It's all you can think about, and it's distracting, because you keep seeing him in your peripheral vision. It's like he's everywhere, and you can't escape.

You know that if you turn your head, he'll be there, and if he's there, then this will all be over. He'll come to you, and you'll let him. It will be like every other time, and you'll wonder why you tried, why you thought you could say no, why you thought it was worth a try.

He'll be there. You know he will.

You keep your head down, and your eyes averted. You focus on the lights and the music and the crowd. You focus on your feet, and your hands, and the glass in front of you. You don't think about Hunter.

Someone else approaches you. Not Hunter. Someone you don't know, and it's nice. This is the kind of thing you came here for. This is the distraction you needed.

You aren't sure why it makes you feel worse.

You go home alone.

The third time, Hunter comes to you, and it's over.

He doesn't wait. He doesn't ask. He's already got his arm around your waist, and his lips are pressed to your throat, and you've got no choice. There's no way to stop this, and no way to walk away.

"I missed you." He breathes the words into your ear, and there's no one else, not for a single moment, who could ever matter the way he does. You can't even remember what your life was like before him.

"You saw me a few days ago."

"It's not enough." His hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. "Not anymore."

You have no answer to that. There's no reply.

Hunter pulls away, and he's still holding you, and when he speaks again, the words are low and urgent. "Don't make me beg. Please."

Your hand is on his chest, and you're not sure if you're trying to push him away or hold him closer. You've never heard him sound like this before, and it's something new. Something terrifying.

Something hopeful.

"Okay," you tell him.

Hunter exhales, and his arms tighten around you. He rests his forehead against yours, and there are a million things you want to say. You could say them. He might listen.

"Come on." He doesn't kiss you. He doesn't even let go. He just takes a step back, and you can't stop yourself from following. You know what's going to happen.

This is the part of the game you can't stop playing.

You aren't surprised when Hunter pulls you into the nearest darkened corner. He isn't gentle, and he doesn't stop moving. When you're alone, it's like he can't get close enough, can't touch you enough.

It's like this time, he wants to prove that he's still got a hold on you. That this hasn't changed.

It hasn't.

His lips are against your neck, and his fingers are digging into your hips. He's everywhere, and all you can think about is how this was a mistake. You knew it would be.

It's just that it's so hard to remember why.

“Hunter...” Your voice sounds strange, and Hunter lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are so dark, and the light from the main room glints off his tattoo.

When he meets your gaze, he stops. You see the realization cross his face, and it's not what you expected. You thought he'd keep going. You thought he'd push. You didn't think he'd care.

He doesn't speak, and neither do you. You're not sure how long you stay like that. Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

You don't say anything. There are no words. There's just him, and you, and the fact that, after all these months, the rules have changed.

For a moment, he almost looks scared, and you don't know what to say.

"I don't..." He looks away, and you can tell that he's struggling, trying to figure out what's happening, and what he's supposed to do. It's the first time you've seen him this unsure, and it's your fault.

"Hunter." This time, when you say his name, his eyes meet yours. He's not hiding anymore, and he's still touching you. You can still feel his breath on your face.

You've played this game a hundred times, but the stakes have never been higher.

"I can't."

Hunter frowns, and the confusion on his face is obvious. He doesn't understand. You're not sure if it's because he never believed that you could stop, or because he never expected that you would.

"You said—"

"I know what I said."

He takes a step back, and the space between the two of you is wide, and empty, and cold. The air is different without his hands on your skin.

"Did I do something?"

"No,” you say. You shake your head, and then, because there are some things you can't deny, you add, "Yes."

"Tell me." He's still standing so close, and when his voice drops, your breath catches. He puts his hand on your arm, and when he slides it up to your shoulder, his thumb grazes your collarbone. "Whatever it is, I can fix it. Tell me."

He's not listening, and he doesn't hear you. If he did, then this wouldn't be a problem.

"I don't want to do this anymore."

His hand freezes. "You don't want..."

"This," you say. You gesture to the space between the two of you. "This thing where we pretend that nothing's happening. It's not just sex anymore, Hunter. I'm not some random stranger. This means something."

He's still frowning, and you're not sure he gets it. "Of course it means something."

"No," you say. You're getting frustrated, and he still isn't letting go of you. "You don't get it. You need to take a step back, and we have to figure out what we're doing here. Because I can't do this, and—"

"What?"

"I can't have a casual relationship." The words are rushed, and quiet, and everything comes spilling out at once. "I can't have a sex-only, friends with benefits, no strings attached relationship. Not with you. I want more. I've wanted more since the day I met you."

Hunter opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He looks like you've hit him, and you want him to say something, to say anything. But he doesn't, so you speak for him.

"I can't keep pretending that it doesn't matter. I can't keep lying. It's too much." You take a deep breath. "So, no. I can't. Not anymore. We can't."

Hunter doesn't move. He doesn't say anything. He’s preternaturally still, and there are so many things you wish he would do, but this is not one of them.

It hurts more than you could have imagined, and it's more than you can bear. You feel like you can't breathe, and like the only thing holding you together is his hand on your arm. He's staring at you like he doesn't recognize you, and you have to look away.

It's only a moment, and then Hunter moves. His fingers drag up to your chin, tilting your head up so you're forced to meet his eyes. You're caught. Held in place by the intensity of his gaze.

"You really don't know, do you?"

You blink. You aren't sure what to say, so you don't say anything.

"This isn't casual. Not for me,” he says, his voice rough, and his eyes search your face, like he's trying to make sure that you're understanding what he's saying.

You're not sure you are.

"I haven't touched anyone since the day we met." He pauses, and the words are like a blow, knocking the wind from your lungs. "Not anyone. Not ever."

He keeps talking, and you're not sure what's happening.

"I didn't lie. Not ever. I never told you how I felt, but that's not because I didn't care."

"Hunter..."

"You're not the only one who feels something," he says, and his voice is low, and desperate, and full of all the things you've never allowed yourself to believe. "There is no one else. There never was. Just you."

He's not playing the game anymore.

"I'm not pretending," he says. "This matters."

You can't speak. Your throat is tight, and your heart is pounding. You want to believe him, and it's almost too much.

"You—"

"Yes," Hunter says. He nods, and then he smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

He leans in, and you're frozen. You can't move. It's like the world has stopped.

"Do you understand now?" he asks, and he's close. So close.

"Yeah," you breathe.

Hunter's eyes close, and he exhales. "Good."

Then, his lips are on yours, and this isn't like any other kiss you've shared. This isn't a game. It's different. Everything is. It's like the first time, but better, because this time, you both know where you stand. This is a beginning, not an ending.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, and his lips trail down your neck. "I thought... I didn't know."

"Me too," you whisper. "I didn't want to hope."

"I know." Hunter's hands slide under the hem of your shirt, and his fingers dig into your hips. His mouth is against your ear. "But, now, I want to know what else I've been missing."

"Me too," you say. "Stars, me too."

"Yeah?" He's still smiling, and he's not stopping, and you've never been more turned on. "You gonna show me, then?" 

"Oh, yes," you say. You guide him back with a gentle shove of his shoulders, but you don't let him go far. The door to the women’s restroom is right behind you, and without thinking, you grab the lip of his chest plate and drag him inside. He laughs as he follows you in, and the sound makes you smile, but then, he's not laughing anymore.

Hunter slams the door shut behind him, throwing the lock into place. You don't waste any time, pushing him back against the door, and he groans. He's already reaching for the hem of your shirt, but you've got other plans.

It's easy to slide to your knees, and when you reach for the buckle of his belt, Hunter's eyes are wide, and dark. His breath catches as you unlatch his codpiece, and toss it to the floor. You don't wait, pulling his cock free, and Hunter's head thunks back against the door.

"You don't have to—"

You take him into your mouth, and his words dissolve into a moan. It's been too long since the last time, and the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him, is better than you remember. The thick vein that runs along the underside is throbbing, and you press your tongue against it, feeling him twitch in your mouth.

He's already breathing hard, his hands on the door behind him, as though he's not sure what to do with them. He's got one foot braced against the tile, his hips shifting restlessly, and when you glance up, his eyes are closed, his mouth open, his face slack.

He's beautiful.

You don't have time to think about that, not with him filling your mouth, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat, his fingers threading through your hair. His hands are gentle, guiding, not pushing. You can feel his restraint, the way he's trying to hold himself still, the tension in his thighs as he rocks against you.

You hum, and Hunter gasps, his hips bucking, his cock thrusting deep. He hits the back of your throat, and you moan, and it's the first time that he tightens his grip, the first time that his voice breaks. "Oh, fuck."

His hand is cupping the back of your head, holding you close, and when he pulls back, the drag of your lips over his cock is obscene.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—"

You cut him off with a lick along the slit at the tip, and Hunter moans. He doesn't seem to be able to look away, his eyes glued to the sight of you on your knees, and the way his cock disappears into your mouth.

"Fuck, I've missed you."

You laugh, and the vibration of it makes Hunter shudder. He's shaking, and when he meets your eyes, his own are burning. "I mean it. You don't know what it was like. Watching you walk away."

You take him deeper, and his words come faster, like he's finally getting it out. "It's always like this. Every time I'm close to you, I can't think. The way you look, the way you feel, fuck, the way you smell."

His cock slips from your mouth, and you suck a line down the length, and then back up. He's leaking, and you lap at the salty tang of his release, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head. 

"All I can think about is burying myself inside of you, and fucking you until you're screaming. I don't know what you do to me, but it's too much."

He's rambling, and his fingers are tugging your hair. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he's shaking. "It's too much. It's always too much, and it's never enough."

You know exactly what he means. You can feel it every time he's near. It's a pull, a draw, and a need. There's a part of you that is always searching for him, that needs him closer, and closer still.

It's maddening.

"I can't stop wanting you."

You've never heard Hunter talk like this, and it makes you moan. The sound is muffled around his cock, and it's like the last of his self-control evaporates.

"Get up here."

He tugs your hair, and you can hear the urgency in his voice. He's not waiting. Not anymore.

His cock slides from your mouth, and his hand wraps around the back of your neck, hauling you to your feet. His lips are on yours, and the kiss is rough and biting, his tongue thrusting deep. You can taste him, and you can feel the way he's shaking.

You've never seen him like this, and it makes you want more. It's intoxicating, and addictive, and all you can think about is how much more he's going to give.

He doesn't give you time to catch your breath. He's spinning you, and you're facing the sink, your hands gripping the edge. He doesn't ask as he rips his gloves off and tosses them into the sink, but you can see the question in his eyes. He doesn't have to.

You nod, and it's all he needs. Hunter's hands are on your waist, and then he's yanking your skirt up, and his fingers are sliding between your legs. He curses, and when he pulls his hand away, his fingers are glistening with your wetness.

“All this from my cock in your mouth, and I've barely touched you." His words are a low rumble, his breath warm against your ear. "Is this what you wanted? Me to take you hard and fast, so that anyone who walks in can hear how good I make you feel?"

Your thighs clench, and Hunter groans, his voice cracking. "Do you have any idea what it does to me, knowing that I'm the only one who can make you come like this?"

"You're the only one I want." Your voice is breathy, and uneven. You can't seem to get a full breath, not when he's looking at you the way he is, his fingers sliding between your folds.

He brings his hand to his lips, and licks his fingers clean, his eyes closed. He looks like he's savoring it, and you're transfixed. It's not until his hands are back on you, hooking into your panties and pulling them down, that you take in a gasp of air.

You watch as he kneels behind you, dragging your underwear down to your ankles. He lifts one foot, and then the other, pulling the soaked garment off. You don’t see where it goes, but you don’t hear it hit the ground. He doesn't drop it. Instead, he stands, and shoves it in one of his pockets, and when he looks at you, he smirks.

You aren’t sure what to say. It shouldn't turn you on. It does.

Hunter leans forward, and his cock slides along the cleft of your ass, and then lower. His lips are on your neck, and when his cock brushes against your clit, you gasp. You can't take much more of this.

You try to turn, but his hands are on your hips, and he's not letting you. His mouth is hot against your neck, and his lips are pressed to your ear.

"No." His voice is a rough growl, and you can hear the smile in his tone. "Stay."

It's not a request.

You freeze, and his teeth sink into your neck, making you cry out. He doesn't speak, and the only sound in the room is your breathing, and the soft, wet sounds of his cock sliding between your folds. He's rubbing the head against your clit, and it's almost too much. You can't stop moving, but the pressure on your hips keeps you still.

"Hunter,” you whimper, and the word is half plea, and half command.

He doesn't answer, and his breath is coming fast and shallow. His fingers are digging into your hips, and he's pressing his cock lower, and lower. You can feel him notch against your entrance, and he pauses, the both of you held in limbo.

"Please."

The moment stretches out, and then Hunter's hand is on the back of your neck, pressing you down. Your forehead hits the cool porcelain of the sink, and you can feel his fingers flex, and then his cock is pressing forward, and stretching you open.

You moan, and it's all you can do not to move. He takes his time, easing inside, and the feeling of him filling you, the sensation of being stretched and filled and claimed is exquisite.

It's not until he's seated inside you that he lets go of your neck. His hand is on your shoulder, holding you in place, and his hips snap, driving him deep. You gasp, his name a strangled cry that tears from your throat, and you can feel his lips brush against your skin.

"That’s it,” he grunts, his breath hot against your ear. He's barely pulling out, fucking you with quick, sharp thrusts. “Moan a little louder, cyare. Let all of 79s know who’s fucking you.”

You don't know what he's doing to you. All you know is that you want more, and you're desperate to obey. You can't help the noises spilling from your mouth, and if you weren't so focused on him, on the way his cock felt inside of you, you might have been embarrassed.

But all you can think about is the way his fingers are gripping your hips, and the way his body is pressed against yours, armor cold and unyielding against your back. You can hear him breathing, and the quiet grunts and moans that fall from his lips are driving you mad.

“Hunter—”

He's not waiting for you to finish, not even bothering to let you catch your breath. You feel the way he responds to the sound of his name, the way his hips jerk, and the way his cock thickens inside of you. His arm slides under your body, wrapping around your stomach, and his hips are moving faster, his thrusts rougher. Hunter fucks you like he's trying to claim you, and in a way, he is.

His mouth is at your ear, and when he speaks, the words are a rough whisper. "Tell me you're mine."

You're shaking, and it's not from the force of his thrusts. It's from the way he says the words, the way he breathes them into your ear, like a plea and a prayer.

"Tell me, and I'll let you come."

You don't know how he can keep talking. You can't form the words, and he's relentless. The way his cock fills you, the way his hips snap, the way his mouth is pressed against your neck, his lips leaving kisses and marks that will linger, and remind you that you're his.

"Please," you manage, the closest your fogged mind can get.

"Say it."

"I'm yours," you whisper, and the way his hips jerk is telling.

He doesn't speak, his hips shifting, and when he drives into you again, it's all you can do to hang on. He's hitting the perfect spot, and when he fucks into you, he stays there, the head of his cock grinding against the most sensitive parts of you. His hand finds your clit, his thumb circling, and it's only moments before you're coming undone.

The force of it hits you, and the noise that escapes is not quite a scream, and not quite a moan. You're shaking, your vision going white, and your entire body is clenching, tightening around him. It's only then that he lets go, the sound that spills from his lips making you shudder.

You can feel him coming, the heat of his release flooding your core. It's a sensation that will never get old, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the way his hand tightens on your hip, the way his mouth opens against your neck. The way he gasps, and sighs, and whispers your name, like you're the only thing that matters.

It's always like this.

He holds you close, and neither of you speaks. It's just the sound of your breathing, the quiet rustle of his armor, the gentle hum of the music from the club outside the door.

There's a knock on the door, and Hunter curses, his hands tightening. His voice is rough, but quiet, and there's no mistaking the warning in his tone. "Go away."

You're frozen, and there's no reply, just the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway.

"Fuck," he groans. The sound vibrates through your body, making you shudder.

"You're gonna get us thrown out,” you tell him, and Hunter laughs.

"It wouldn't be the first time." He pulls away, and it's an unpleasant sensation, the drag of his cock leaving your body. You can feel him leaking from between your legs, and you shift, trying to find something to clean yourself up with.

"Here." Hunter pulls a towel from the rack, and he's gentle as he runs it over the inside of your thighs, and between your legs. He cleans himself and tucks his cock back into his blacks, and the whole time, he's got a hand on your waist, like he's not ready to let go.

You adjust your clothes, and when you turn to look at him, Hunter smiles.

"I've been thinking," he says, and he's reaching for you, pulling you close.

"That sounds dangerous."

"Maybe." Hunter dips his head, and he kisses you, his hands cupping your face. His mouth is warm and soft, and it feels like an apology. When he breaks the kiss, he's still holding you, and the next words out of his mouth are the last ones you expect.

"Do you want to go to dinner with me?"

You blink. Hunter's eyes are serious, and his hands are on your shoulders like he's bracing himself.

"Like, on a date?"

He nods, and he looks so nervous, it's hard not to laugh. The two of you have been having sex for months, have done things that would make most people blush, and he's nervous because he wants to take you to dinner.

"Just the two of us?"

Hunter nods again, and when you smile, his own lips curl up.

"Yes." You wrap your arms around his waist, and he looks relieved, like he didn't think you were going to say yes. "I'd love to."

Hunter smiles, and it's brilliant. It makes his eyes shine, and you can't help but grin.

"Good," he says. "That's good."

“But you’re going to have to give me my panties back."

Hunter raises an eyebrow and dips his hand between your legs, the touch light, but firm. His fingers glide through your folds, and the sound you make is high and strangled. He's still wearing a smirk when he pulls his hand away, and when he licks his fingers clean, there's no mistaking the way his gaze darkens.

"I think I'm going to keep them," he says without a hint of remorse.

"But—"

"Consider it a promise." His smile is wicked, and his voice is low and rough. "For later."

Your eyes widen, and Hunter chuckles.

"Now," he says, his hands sliding down your arms. He interlaces your fingers with his, and pulls you toward the door. "Let's get out of here."

This time, you follow him without question.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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[plutocisms]

NSFW Alphabet for Eren Jaeger

Disclaimer: I love him w Mikasa but I support my Eren peeps

A (Aftercare) what are they like after sex?

he isn’t the most attentive doesn’t grasp what aftercare means, he will get you a towel but you’d have to ask for anything else. He is a little cuddly afterwards but that’s because he likes to fall asleep laying on your chest.

B (Body Part) favorite on themselves and of their partner

he is actually pretty fond of his torso, he worked hard to be chiseled and loves when you compliment him on it.

As for you, that man loves some biddies! He adores everything about you but can’t pull himself away from your chest.

C (Cum) anything to do w/ it basically

he doesn’t mind it, not too fond of his own unless it’s watching his drip down or out of you on the occasion he does releases inside of you. He’s more than happy to taste yours tho. He loves doing it on your face or them biddies but isn’t picky about where it happens.

D (Dirty little secret) self explanatory

similar to Levi, he wants to do it on a superiors desk…Levi’s in fact. And as much as it pisses him off, he also gets off when other guys flirt with you, knowing that you’re all his and he can just have his way with you.

E (Experience) also pretty self explanatory

he’s actually not very experienced and it took him a few times to get good, but has gotten much better with practice. He wasn’t bad but had to learn/adapt to your needs.

F (Favorite postition) ^

absolutely loves carrying you, propping your back against the wall and bouncing you up and down.

G (Goofy) are they more playful or serious in the moment?

he likes to crack a few and tease about how good he is/how well you can take it and the faces/noises you make. He gets a kick out of how flustered it can make you. Other than that pretty serious, and definitely gets lost in it—almost feral at times

H (Hair) how are they groomed down there?

it’s not too out of control down there but he doesn’t shave unless it gets pretty out of hand and even then, he’s rather just trim it.

I (Intimacy) are they more romantic or lustful in the moment?

for the most part he can be pretty intimate if he wants but reserves a bit unless it’s some occasion. If he’s upset / in a mood he can be a little more lustful than romantic.

J (Jack Off) masturbation headcanon

he enjoys himself every now and then, and doesn’t mind the idea of you catching him, he’d find a way to tease you about it tho somehow and have you join him. “If you wanna watch me get off so badly why don’t you come over here and help me out” type shii

K (Kink(s)) self explanatory :)

biting and light choking. (On you and himself) He loves smacking your ass and also wouldn’t mind if you slapped him in the face a little during. He’s a bit of a masochist, nothing too crazy tho.

L (Location) where they like to do it

he’s pretty open to most places but loves sneaking off to a bathroom (deffly the type to hold your head up and make you watch while he’s hitting it in the bathroom mirror) or closet to have his way with you when he wants.

M (Motivation) what gets them in the mood?

He likes it when you have a bit of an attitude with him and boss him around a bit. He’s not really one for listening but he likes when you try. He likes when u take a little control. Sitting on his lap drives him crazy too but especially in front of people, like if y’all are at a function and seats are limited so you sit on his lap? Yeah y’all will be hitting that bathroom/closet later together.

N (No) what they wont do in the bedroom

He can’t stand the thought of sharing you in any way. No additional people.

O (Oral) do they enjoy giving/receiving?

he enjoys both pretty equally. He’s a bit of a sloppy eater and he’s be perfectly content with sneaking you away for a quick taste and nothing more and would be more than happy with the same done to him.

P (Pace) how fast or slow are they during?

he doesn’t really grasp the slow and gentle thing. In fact it’ll likely be fast and hard, or slow and hard. Yup, you’re getting pounded either way. He quite enjoys shifting pace to see your faces and tease you. It all depends on his mood really.

Q (Quickies) how do they feel about them?

He enjoys quickies, but will more often than not prefer to play with you as long as he wants instead of being made to rush.

R (Risks) are they willing to take them?

he’s pretty risky and experimental as long as it doesn’t involve a third party. He’s open to trying most with you

S (Stamina) how long can they last?

as a titan shifter he’s got tons of stamina, he can go on for quite a long time but doesn’t for your sake.

T (Toys) are they into them, do they have any?

he would definitely get you those vibrating panties as a joke. He also uses a vibrator on you from time to time, only if he’s in a joking mood tho, because it’s mainly a tool to tease but he wants to deliver the bulk of the pleasure

U (Unfair) are they a tease basically

oh he’s real petty and will edge tf out of you. He loves making you lose your cool a bit bc it turns him on

V (Volume) how loud are they during

he’s actually pretty quiet when he isn’t teasing. Not dead silent, but low muffled grunts and strained sighs. He wants to hear you more.

W (Wildcard) random headcanon

He has a reoccurring fantasy of having his way with you on a blanket in an open field under a tree in broad daylight. He's got it all planned out given the chance.

X (X-Ray) what's it looking like under the hood

A good 6.5 inches. He’s not massive but it’s more than enough to get the job done. Well defined V line. I don't agree with the idea he's like huge mans got a little booty! (lLevi said it was scrawny not me) it's cute tho lmao.

Y (Yearning) what's their sex drive like?

fairly high sex drive it’s pretty primal. especially after a long day, he's looking for you as soon as he walks through the door.

Z (Zzz) how fast do they fall asleep after?

pretty much immediately, he goes to sleep right after with his hand on one of your breasts or even as the little spoon and loves the feeling of your breasts pressed against his back