Retired!Simon
Smut 18+ part two to this, filthy smut, pwp, filthy filthy filthy, age gap, overstim, FILTHY, pussy slapping, throat fucking, oral (both)
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
You text the number the moment you come home. Fuck seeming desperate or so, you'd be damned if you let the best fuck of your life get away. Fingers a bit trembly from excitement, just a simple 'hey'. You stare at the screen for a minute before putting your phone away. Like he'd reply that fast.
He must have been like forty or so, good chunk older than you. Crows feet around his eyes when he smiled - whatever one would could call the expression similiar to a semblance of a friendly intent he gave you before leaving you wrecked in the bathroom. Didn't even catch his name before he had your skirt pulled off, hand grabbing into the fat of your ass, roughly.
His touch still phantoms your body. Handling you like he's known you all his life, pushing, prodding, around the curves of a girl young enough to get questioning stares if seen together outside. Maybe you even would be desperate enough to just call him. Maybe that's excatly what he wanted, making you beg for it, knowing how those fifteen minutes were more than a quick fuck for something so young and inexperienced as you. Mean. But you like it in some way. The game of cat and mouse had long begun before you knew you were part of it.
No answer for three days and you're jumpy. Always looking at your phone, biting your lips, ignoring the achy pain in your cunt that was begging for relief. But your vibrator wasn't cutting it anymore, barely able to push you over the edge and no gratification with it. You just can see those honeyed brown eyes of his, nursing a drink in the evening while reading over your simple text, asking when you'd break.
You hope he would show up on the golf course again, maybe you'd recognise his friends and ask them a few things. Anything to give you a sense of control in whatever you had entered. It doesn't get as far, because on the fourth night your thumb has its own plans and before you know the phone rings. Once, twice, thrice. Then finally the thick, accented voice comes through, your thighs clenching, a burst of joy rushing through your body.
"Already missin' me, doll?"
He was enjoying it way too much.
"H-hey."
Butterflies in your stomach and you lightly slap yourself to get yourself together.
"Didn't reply to my text, so thought I'd call."
"Yeah? What can I do for ya?"
Smug bastard. Like he didn't know.
"Hoped I could see you again."
Your hand laid open.
"Hm. A straightforward one, aren't you, doll. Atta girl."
You hear glass clanking on the other side of the line. He did seem like a whiskey type of man.
"Whenever you want to."
Of course he'd say that.
"Right now?"
Maybe your pussy was doing the talking for you.
"That desperate f'me?"
A soft chuckle on his side.
"Alright, get your pretty ass here."
Didn't expect that to work. Maybe you weren't the only one needing this.
"Where do you live?"
"I'll send you a cab."
"T-thanks."
"One more thing."
You pause in your movement, already scurrying to get changed into something more presentable.
"Simon's the name. Remember it. Gonna be screaming it a lot tonight."
"S-simon..."
You cry out, hips trembling as his thick cock slides out slowly. A gush of slick pools around your ass but you don't nearly have enough braincells to care about the ruined bed, tears streaming down down your cheeks.
"p-please..."
His bulbous tip smacks your clit and your eyes roll back.
"Please what?"
"L-let me cum."
Of course he had been edging you all night, eating you out only to pull away once your back arched up and you were babbling his name like a prayer. His thick cock had sank in, wrecking your cunt, a thumb on your clit only giving you light strokes every now and then. Your folds were sticky, glistening, the amount of juices he had forced out of you made you want to cry. You had been so frustrated the past days, nothing feeling good and now that you were so close, he only bullied your poor cunt until she was swollen, crying all over him.
"Why should I?"
"P-please..."
His cock sinks back in and your lip wobbles. God it felt so good but it wasn't enough. Not when he was moving so slowly, hands sunk into the fat of your chest almost painfully. Your clit was throbbing from the onslaught of feelings, clenching, begging for more. You must look pathetic, lying there in that mating press, soaking through everything, your panties lying somwhere, ripped apart.
"Gotta work for it, doll."
It was burning between your legs. You were going crazy, fat drops of slick hitting the expensive rug unter your knees while he was feeling his fat cock down your tiny throat. Your eyes weren't focused anymore and you don't know if you were even breathing, dizzy enough that your head felt empty, static.
"Look at your poor throat. 's all stretched out, eh? Body too small for my cock?"
He gives you a mean thrust and you gag around him, more tears rolling out your eyes. Your hands were gripped into his muscular thighs, not knowing if to push away or endure so maybe he'd give you what you needed. Not like you'd manage to actually pull away, his hand on the back of your head, making you move up and down his length.
"Like taking older men's cock into your mouth? Making good use of every hole you got."
His words were gasoline to the fire inside you. Every time your cunt clenched, you could hear, hear the squelching that came with it, like his cock had gaped you enough over the hour he had just sat inside you and played with your body.
"Oh yeah, you love it. Dirty cunt's ruined for any other man, eh? Might as well get my name tattooed on there."
He finally pulls out, the relief of being able to properly breathe again barely important compared to finally have his cock stretching out your wall again. He makes you crawl back onto the bed and spread your legs so he could inspect the damage he's done, sinking in three fingers with no resistance.
"You'd really do anythin' for me to fuck you properly, eh?"
All you can do is whimper weakly, clenching your cunt.
His palm comes flat down, delivering a light slap onto your folds and you cry out. Again, he starts slapping your pussy, making loud plapping squelches echo off his room while you try to scurry away from the pain, screaming out his name in hopes he's stop.
"Ah, no, no running away, doll."
A hand on each leg pulling you back down.
"You want to cum?"
"Y-y-yes..."
You gargle out, feeling the knot building, hot embarrassment washing over you, knowing what was coming. He spit onto your cunt, glob of saliva running down, feeling cool against your reddened folds. Then he started again, sharp slaps against your cunt, grazing your poor clit, making you flinch every time the sharp pain burned so good against you. And the coil built up again, growing and growing, vining up your torso until you were crying out his name every time his hand made contact with your poor body.
“Here we go.”
A strong gush of liquid drenches him, your body shaking, lips opened in an attempt to scream and he starts fucking his fingers into you. A second gush comes right after, your thighs wet and slippery, your body engulfed in blazing bliss, your eyes rolling so far back, you swear you were seeing the back of your skull.
“Atta girl. C’mon, do it again.”
Another slap and more liquid just explodes out your wrecked body. He’s got you on your tummy moments later, cock slipping in and his pace picks up. Quick, brutal, like he did in the bathroom, he pummels your pink hole until you were sure she would never ever want another man inside. Strokes that hit your cervix, punched the air out of your lungs, the slickness your clit was pressed into every time his body weight slammed into you bordering on painful.
“Getting your cunt ruined by some old man. You ought to respect yourself some more, eh?”
Your thighs starts to tremble again. You let out a strained moan, fingers holding onto his wrist like he’d slow down if you did. A few more strokes and you feel him nestling his load right under your womb.
“Fuckin’ good pussy. Best one so far.”
You think he’d let you stay like that, tummy down on his dirty bed, finally giving you rest. But the moment he pulls out, he puts your limp body onto his lap, hand on your chest, groping and occasionally sinking a finger or so into you to push his seed back into you.
“You still want to cum? Still want my fingers in that dirty hole o’yours?”
You whine weakly, trying to shake your head no.
“Yeah? Alright.”
And he starts back at zero, three fingers in your cunt, brutal pace, until you were emptied all over again, his seed now spread across your lower half as all you manage is gargle out pleas of his name and some incoherently strung together syllables. The next orgasm makes you question if you were still alive. There was a constant dribble of slick running out your cunt, your clit swollen two twice its size, the firm slap of his palm felt in your entire nervous system.
The has the audacity to press a kiss against your soft lips, once he’s done. A hot towel cleaned you up and his arms carried you over to another room. You were out of it and the moment you smelled fresh sheets and a blanket was pulled over you, you enter the deepest slumber of your life.
summary: Choso, a shy IT specialist at Jujutsu Industries, has had a crush on you for years. So when your computer breaks down and you ask him for his expertise, he is determined to try his very hardest to please (and maybe, just maybe, in more ways than one).
content: MDNI 18+, afab!reader, boss!reader, nerd!choso, alt!choso, virgin!choso, no use of “y/n”, yearning, crushing, verrrryy down bad choso, hair-down choso, pierced choso, glasses choso, nerd!gojo feature, nerd!geto feature, porn with lots of plot, choso sees your nudes and lowkey freaks out (in a good way), oral sex (m!receiving, f!receiving), handjobs (m!receiving, f!receiving), suspicious activities under the desk, squirting, messy, secretive, dumbification, office sex, semi-public sex, first times, breeding kink, etc.
word count: 9.2k (idek how this happened oops)
author's note: AHH this is my first ever post on here! I am so excited to share it with you all ☺️! all credits of the above pictures go to their creators! First picture credits is to the talented @einruji07 on X! Also, MDNI!! 18+ only. If you are not 18+ I *will* block you.
choso's friday rotation: Sleepyhead - Jutes, I Want You By My Side - Yuragi, Sextape - Deftones, Drunk in Love - Guitar Version Looped - NovaX, Chokehold - Sleep Token, The Walls - Chase Atlantic, House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls - The Weeknd
The morning genuinely could not have gone rougher.
Choso’s 6AM alarm didn't go off, which meant his meticulous morning routine (fixing his hair into its signature bun, tirelessly trying to wash the sleep from his eyes, and buying Toji’s shitty discounted coffee from the place next door) was effectively scrapped.
The train from his neighborhood to Chiyoda City was packed full, and he could’ve sworn at least six different elbows dug into his back on purpose throughout the entire ride.
And of course, the cherry on top was that it was a Friday, which meant the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Industries was serving free breakfasts today. He knew that as soon as the clock hit 9am, employees from every department would be descending down from their respective floors and into the bumbling cafeteria.
It was ritual; it was community.
It was Kamo Choso's personal hell.
Sure, he could avoid all of this - and his natural instincts would be that he would. But there is something uniquely humbling about being an underpaid IT specialist living in one of the most ridiculously overpriced apartments in Shibuya, that his usual quiet, asocial self could set aside his general temperament for some Friday freebies.
He stepped into the already lengthy line, keeping his sleepy eyes glued to his phone screen, his music set to a concerning level, and his earbuds on noise-cancellation.
He anticipated this would take fifteen minutes max. Eight to move through the line. Two to figure out what he wanted and grab what he needed. Five to absolutely book it up the stairs to his 4th-floor cubicle. That's what he anticipated. He could do this.
What he did not anticipate was accidentally knocking into, and subsequently flat-tiring, you.
You, with your sensual curves and smooth skin and sharp eyes. You, who took one look at the scuff mark he made on your very expensive-looking heels and laughed. You, who, as you now fully turn to face him, smelled faintly of warm rice and deep vanilla, spiced quince and smoked cinnamon.
You.
You, you, you.
The girl he has been harboring the most, painful, humiliatingly pathetic crush on for the past two and a half years.
A playful grin formed on your plush lips. Your eyes began to scan him over, assessing. The small stud above his brow glinted to you as if in greeting. His hair, which normally was tied up, was down today, the thick black frames he wore slightly obscuring the pinkish scar that ran across his nose, and his dark lashes were fluttering against his pale skin in a way that made him look so… soft.
Choso could feel his eyes begin to widen as you took him in. His heart mobilized to his throat, his nape began to prick with cool droplets of sweat. Was he blushing right now or was it just hot? The bustle of the line all but faded away to him.
You began to speak, and it took him several moments before realizing that the pitched ringing in his ears were in fact, not his own deluded creations, but his headphones. His ridiculous, small, obscured headphones that were actively on noise-cancellation mode.
You were talking to him, and he couldn't hear you.
Now, this wasn't the first time you and Choso ever crossed paths. The two of you started at the company on the same day, and the both of you were partners during the week-long onboarding program. You captivated him with your casual boldness, magnetic presence, and how just one word from you could command the attention of the entire group.
He surprised you with his low voice, observing eyes, sharp features, and the way that he spoke his words with the kind of deep earnestness of someone who has never been burned.
You were intrigued.
He was captivated.
By the time the onboarding week finished, all the new hires went around the room stating their departments and their title. When it came your time to speak, and the words "Portfolio Management Director" left your oh, so pretty lips, Choso could feel the barriers going up before he could even fully comprehend it.
When everyone began to filter out of the room, mingling with the peers they grew acquainted with during the program, all he could do was keep his head down. At the time, all he could think about was how foolish he was to hope that there could ever even be a small possibility with you.
He ended up leaving without saying goodbye (admittedly not his best decision), and you watched him go with the smallest traces of hurt squeezing your chest.
And so that's why Choso finds himself here, on this Friday morning two and a half years later, flustered, embarrassed, and scrambling to string together one coherent sentence for you.
This was worse than his own personal hell. This was abuse and torture wrapped up in one single, harrowing blow.
Choso could see you had stopped talking and were looking at him expectantly now.
And honestly? You could handle scuff marks and damaged shoes. You could handle snarky colleagues and misogynistic execs. You've fought for your spot (if only everyone could've seen the state you left Zenin Naoya in...) and swiftly climbed your way up the corporate ladder. You were one of the youngest, and most favored, female directors at the company. You could handle your own and pretty much anything thrown at you - but that did not mean you took kindly to being ignored, especially by the regretfully attractive IT geek that somehow left such an impression on you all those years ago.
The easy smile you wore slowly began to fall with every passing second of his silence. Behind you, the line began to march forward.
Choso was immobilized. He had to act, and fast. In his fantasies, he would've approached you with the kind of slickness and sex-appeal that Sukuna Ryomen (the notorious office rake) was said to employ at the weekly happy hours (allegedly, according to Satoru). Choso would have wow'd you with his intellect, he would have made you laugh. He would've apologized for his initial lameness after the onboarding debacle all those years ago. He would've found a way to finally get your number, dammit!
Instead, all the words he wanted to say were competing for a spot of your attention, and something halfway between a choked groan and garbled sputtering was all that could escape his mouth.
Your eyes slightly widened.
Choso wished for death to strike him.
He could feel the light tapping of the people behind him, urging him to move.
Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. A mix of something halfway between sympathy and disappointment flashed in your eyes, but you turned around too quickly before he could decipher it. And so he was left standing there, in the middle of the cafeteria with bated breath and a palpitating heart, as you walked up to the continental buffet without so much as a glance back.
God, he was truly pathetic. And also so, so incredibly fucked.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
"Oh now that's fuckin' gold-" Satoru was barking at this point, laughing so hard his glasses slid down his nose, "-even I'm not THAT bad" his howls echoed throughout the entirety of the IT department's floor. Even Suguru, who was always so neutral in these situations, was chuckling and nodding in agreement as he listened to Choso's embarrassing retelling of this morning's encounter.
Choso's face twisted in misery.
If he was lamer than Gojo Satoru, who was generally considered as the office's "lamest", then he should just resign the rest of his life to virgin-hood now.
Gojo: +10
Choso: -67
With a grumble of the most unsavory curses he knew, and a swift kick to Gojo's long shins (that, satisfyingly, shut him up), Choso got up from his desk for his shift at the tenth-floor IT help station.
Which, to both his happiness and dismay, was where all the higher-ups worked. Where you worked.
He rubbed his face once, his glasses lifting under his fingers, before staring up at the elevator ceiling.
"Please pull yourself together, man" he whispered under his breath.
The tenth floor IT "station" was moreso a glorified closet, in his opinion. The only attribute that made it a “station” was the one, small service window that one would normally see at drive-thru’s. All Choso had to do for the next 3-hours was sit behind the window and wait for the digital clock to hit 5pm. And normally, his time at the counter would go as it always did: quiet and uneventful.
So, was it divine intervention or cruel punishment that led you to walk over to the window at 4pm, your heels clicking against the polished floor as you stood before him for the second time that day?
"Mr. Kamo," you said in greeting. You were still a little peeved from the situation that occurred earlier in the day, and your usual easy tone was replaced with something a touch cooler.
"H-Hi," he breathed. Slick. He coughed before correcting himself, "what can I do for you?"
His eyes flickered up at you and then down to his fidgeting hands. He knew he needed to explain what happened earlier. His earbuds, his chronic-lameness, his affinity with making a fool out of himself whenever you were within a four-meter radius.
You sighed. "Seems like my laptop decided to give out on me," your lips formed a slight pout and your brows furrowed in cute concern. His heart thumped in his throat. "Think you can fix it?" You raised your eyes to meet his, and he suddenly became acutely aware of just how warm his face was.
He nodded quickly, jerkily. "I can certainly try."
You say your thanks softly, just a touch distant, before silently handing him your computer.
He flushed in embarrassment as he stumbled to take the device from you. The IT window, though useful, had a worktable on his side. So, he had to extend over the table to get to the counter of the window, where you had placed your laptop.
Your eyes furtively stared at the way his surprisingly sculpted arms extended out to reach over. You noticed the soft outline of a scar wrapping around his mid forearm, and the veins that ran down from there and into his large hands.
You clear your throat, trying to stop yourself from saying (or moaning) something stupid, and excuse yourself.
He was able to diagnose your laptop in a matter of minutes. The internal cooling fan was clogged with dust, and all he had to do was blast it with some compressed air. It was simple, really. He anticipated it would only take him ten minutes to fix the whole thing.
And yet, he sat there stalling.
You sat in one of the lounge chairs beside his window, your legs neatly crossed and your manicured nails tapping away on your phone. The sun was beginning to set, and the glow from its light was illuminating you in such a way that it would make it a crime not to stare.
“Yes, Mr. Kamo?”
You didn’t glance up from your phone, but your brows held a light, inquisitive arch. His breath stuttered.
“I am so sorry about earlier,” his voice was so gentle you almost missed it. You finally look up. “The breakfast line this morning. That time from onboarding two years ago-” the thumping of his veins was hard enough to staccato his speech, yet he could not stop now. “I am so sorry. For everything. For your shoes. For acting the way I did. For not saying goodbye. I had earbuds in and-god-I don’t know why I’m so…”
“Shy?” You offer to him.
“Lame.” He mumbles.
Your laugh is an angelic ring to his ears, and he watches as your hand covers your mouth as your eyes begin to crinkle. It was hard to stay annoyed when he was so endearing, so earnest with his words. The worry lines on his forehead began to ease, and a relieved smile slowly made its way onto Kamo Choso’s face for the first time today.
“All is forgiven-” your smile was small, perhaps even a touch shy. You hesitate, before saying, “thank you, Mr. Kamo.” It was your turn now to not be able to meet his eyes. And though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, the implication of your words hung in the air. Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for your courage.
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as the sun fully dipped into the horizon. You returned to your phone, and he returned to your computer.
And when he finally opened up the casing to clean out your fan, he made sure to leave a section untouched in the hopes that maybe, just maybe you would come back to visit him again.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁
It was slow at first, but eventually you did return. And then again. And again and again.
One time for a docking station. The next, for your headphones (you both laughed). He checked your monitors one week, and your cables the next. It would be something new each time you came rounding the corner.
He would often find himself searching for the sound of your heels, like it was a message just for him; something sacred; a secret admission.
And every time you came around, you stayed by his window as he worked. You liked to watch the flush that would inevitably creep onto his features, and he liked to relish in your closeness, the smell of your shampoo, the sounds of your bracelets clinking together, and the faces you made as you read through your emails.
Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would catch you staring. He smiled more on those days.
Somehow, somewhere in those two or so months, the two of you began to ease into each other. You talked more, he stuttered less. Your professional smiles grew into something more unreserved. His anxious hands gradually found peace. Over time, silence turned into polite niceties, which turned into conversations about weekend plans, which turned into gentle teases about music tastes, coffee order skepticisms, and pop-culture references. You surprised him by being a secret gamer. He surprised you by being a shameless sweet-tooth.
After weeks of odd-repair jobs flew by, there was probably no other office supplies of yours that Choso hadn’t checked.
He was sure that the final days of you visiting him were soon approaching, and the thought alone was enough to send him into an emotional spiral all week. He didn’t want whatever this was to stop. Your presence easily became the favorite aspect of his routine: a loud part of his normally quiet schedule that he looked forward to every Friday.
He just needed to man up. Grow a pair. And if today was his last shot, then he would. And if you didn't show up to his IT window tonight? Then he would finally attend the company happy hours just in case you would be there. And if you were there, then he would approach you at the bar and he would buy you a drink. He would ask for your number. He would tell you to address him casually from here on out. He would, he would, he would.
For you? He would do anything.
It was ten-to-five, and the twisting in Choso’s stomach was becoming unbearable. He was all but ready to pack up and sprint to the bar that all the employees went to on Friday nights when he heard the familiar click of your heels as you rounded the corner.
His heart was pounding, and he could hear the blood rushing past his ears.
“You’re going to hate me,” you started.
Never, he wanted to say in reply.
“Oh? How so?”
“My work phone,” you frowned, “I’d hate to keep you late on a Friday night, but…” you softly waved the device in your hand. “Think you can manage?”
The turbulence in his body settled. You were here. He will get your number today. He will ask, after this. His eyes softened, as they normally did whenever you were near, and a smile graced his pretty features. “When have I not?”
You laughed and nodded, a touch flushed, biting your lip as your eyes lit up with something warm, something he couldn’t place.
A beat passes. Your gaze drops from his eyes, to his lips, then quickly up to the dark piercing by his brow. Were you too obvious? Was he too dense?
"My savior." You said it like it was a secret. Breathy, earnest, purposeful.
His ears turned another shade redder.
You handed your phone to him wordlessly, and his fingers grazed yours. Where yours were warm and smooth, his were cool and calloused. He gulped. You grinned.
As you settled down into your usual spot on the lounge chair, laptop opened to your email, he began to assess the damage on your phone.
“Do you remember what applications were running before it broke? Helps give me a better understanding of the issue.” He was focused now, skillfully popping off the case and assessing the ports.
You hummed. “The last thing I used was the camera - I was taking pictures of a merger agreement to forward to the legal team.” You checked your watch. “I was hoping to send it all over by 8pm at the latest.”
Though he nodded casually, he couldn’t help but be in awe of your composure, your effortless nonchalance with your power and position.
As he finally got the screen on your work phone to power up, you began to get a video call on your laptop. You excused yourself, mouthing “Sorry, gotta take this” to him, before you turned and headed back to your desk. It looked like you were quite busy. He hoped you were taking care of yourself; that you ate something today. He made a mental note for himself to ask you later.
He fiddled with your phone for several minutes. After cleaning out your charging port, plugging your device into power, and doing other general troubleshooting, your phone screen finally lit up with its signature brand logo.
Though it lagged, he was able to get to your home screen and look into your settings. After a general inspection of your storage, software system, and other miscellaneous settings, he moved on to your camera app to check if the app would crash like you had mentioned.
He truly did not mean to pry. He was just about to close the app when he saw it - the small square photo cover of a folder in your camera roll. The preview was of you. Of your body.
And, oh fuck- were these your nudes?
Fuck.
He could feel the blood draining from his face...
He immediately put your phone down.
What the hell was he doing?
You were a distinguished senior-level employee. His colleague. His crush. Dare he say, friend?
His very, very attractive friend.
He gulped. He could feel his dick pulse in interest, a faint throb that blended with the beating anticipation in his heart.
He slowly picked your phone back up.
He wished he could feel more turmoil; he wished that his morality would kick in and tell him to stop, to tell him to show some sliver of respect for your privacy. But all he could hear was silence in the face of his insatiable curiosity.
You weren’t here right now. The call you took seemed important enough to go back to your office for. Perhaps… Perhaps he could just reaffirm what he thought he saw?
His pulse was beating so wildly that his heart felt like it was working on overload. With shaky hands, he clicks back into the folder.
Fuck.
He wanted to cry. He might actually cry.
There were only seven pictures total. Before he could think too hard, he tapped into the first one and scrolled through.
The first was of you laying on your side, your heavy tits barely held up by the flimsy pink lingerie you had on. His dick lurched in his jeans at the sight of your nipples barely caught on the lace. He could see the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips, the light gloss on your lips.
He could feel his hand reaching down to his crotch before he could register what was happening.
The hell? This was you? Hidden behind all your smart clothes and persisting authority?
His fingers involuntarily squeezed himself through his pants. He could feel the fiery pit in his stomach convulse. He tried to ignore the wet spot that was beginning to form where the tip of his cock kissed his briefs. He continued to scroll.
More pictures of your tits, some with them squished together, some with them spilling over your purposefully small tops. Once he got to the ones of your ass, he had to stifle a surprised groan with a choked cough. The slutty thongs you wore almost made him pass out. One pair was made of only cross-linking satin strips. Another was just translucent lace. Regardless of material, he was transfixed by the way they got swallowed up by the expanse of your plump, juicy, impossibly round ass.
And then he got to the video. The video.
His heart was wild against his ribs. A vibrator was between your legs. Your thong shoved to the side. Your wetness was soaking the fabric so thoroughly it was see through, and your slick was coating the tip of the device until it shined. Your nipples were hard and peaking through the tops of your bra. One hand was pumping two fingers into your pussy, and the other held the vibrator to rub against your swollen clit.
It was so obscene. So dirty. So fucking erotic.
He did not know what took over him, but he could not stop himself now. His pants were unzipped, briefs shoved down, cock fully exposed underneath his worktable. He was jerking himself off like he was possessed, drunk off of the way you looked on the screen. His dick was heavy, thick, and hot in his hand. The mushroomed tip was angry and red, rubbed raw by the friction of being trapped in his underwear. He was leaking such an embarrassing amount that he wasn’t entirely sure if it was pre or if he literally came untouched in his pants without realizing.
He could hear your low pants coming from the screen, and the shlk shlk shlkkk of your nimble fingers fucking inside of yourself. He had to clench his jaw so hard that the veins in his neck were surely popping out, just to stop himself from making noise. Each time you rubbed the slickened vibrator against your cunt, and it partly disappeared between your pussy lips, his own dick bobbed with fresh waves of need.
What the hell were these doing on your work phone? Was this even your work phone?
His forehead was lightly damp now. His chest was heaving. His face was so fucking flushed. His heartbeat felt so loud in his ears that he couldn’t hear the faint clicking of your heels as you returned to him.
“...Mr. Kamo?”
His face snapped up. You were standing directly across from him, the only thing separating the two of you being the service-window wall. A beat passes, and your video is still playing on loop in his hand.
Your lips part in slow recognition, but the shadow of something indecipherable flickers across your features.
The world around you both seems to still, the Tokyo nightlife all but muted in the bubble that formed between you and him.
He sat frozen as you wordlessly walked up to, and opened, the door to his IT room.
It only took you two steps inside before you slowly dropped to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. With your field of vision lower now, you could see his large hand still fisting his dick underneath the table.
And… Holy shit. He was so… large.
You don’t realize you're gulping.
You don’t realize that you’re salivating.
This fucking nerd was packing… what? Nine full inches and then some?
Your wide eyes look back up to him, and he stares back with something akin to both utter humiliation and desperation.
“I never got to properly thank you for all your help these past few months,” you whisper.
Wait, what?
Before his delirious brain could process the implication of your soft words, you’re leaning in to lick up the salty pre that pooled at the base of his cock, slurping at the excess, and licking allllll the way up to the pulsing head.
Your tongue was so soft, so ridiculously fuckin’ wet.
And Choso was so taken by surprise, so dazed by the fact that this was his reality right now, that his jaw slackened, and a fuckin’ whimper escaped his throat.
You began to trace the veins on his dick and he could’ve sworn he saw stars.
You took your time, languidly finding a path up up, up. By the time you made it to the tip, he thought he was going to cry (he was unsure if he already was), until you wrapped your plush lips around the underside of his mushroomed cockhead, putting delicious pressure on his most sensitive area.
“Put your hands on me,” you almost whined it out, the tip of his dick still bobbing shallowly in your mouth. Like you didn’t want to let go; like you didn't want even a moment of it not resting heavily on your tongue.
Before he could comply, the distant whirring of a vacuum echoed somewhere down the hall.
“Oh fuck-” his eyes were wild, and his breathing ragged and erratic. Was it panic from potentially getting caught? Or was it the selfish idea that the thought of you stopping now might actually kill him? That whatever trance you both were under would break, and that you would walk out and take all of his heart with you?
He looks down at you, and in his panicked state he didn’t realize you were grinning.
“What are you-?”
The whirring was getting louder. You crawled under the table and settled between his spread legs.
Oh.
Oh.
He felt like he was going to go insane.
You rested your cheek against his thigh, and looked up at him through your lashes. Your eyes were glazed, your lips rouged and spit-slickened. You were mesmerizing, and it almost killed him to look away.
In the distance, he could see the nightly custodial crew rounding the corner and walking down the hall, their vacuums roaring loudly against the polished floors.
You began to push his flared cockhead further into your mouth, until it was just kissing the smoothed back of your throat. He choked on a moan, one hand gripping onto the workstation ledge, the other flying to your hair. The echoes of footsteps were growing louder, and the roars of the vacuums were quickly nearing. And yet, this only seemed to make you needier, hungrier.
Your head was bobbing rhythmically, unrelentingly, addictingly, under the table as you sucked on his hard length. He was just so warm, so thick and hot and heady, and you were beginning to lose your sanity over the feeling of his cock filling your mouth so completely and overwhelmingly, shutting you up.
Your lashes were damp with stray tears. Choso wondered how it would look to paint your face with his cum, or if you preferred to take it down your throat-
“Would you like us to clean inside there, sir?”
He sputtered dumbly. “Huuh-?”
The custodial team stood about four meters away, pausing their vacuuming activities briefly as they stared at him curiously.
“N-no. No I’m good. All c-clean over here.”
You made it a point to slurp lightly - just loud enough for him alone to hear. You were slobbering now, drool and spittle dripping from your chin, messily mixing with his creamy pre down the length of his cock, and all over his balls.
He fisted your hair in warning, his jaw ticking with tension.
He knew he probably looked ridiculous to the custodians right now, maybe even sick with how flushed and sweaty he was. He was pretty sure that his lower lip was split with how hard he was biting them. His glasses were slightly fogged on the lower edges, and his chest was heaving in a way that made him look like he just ran a marathon.
From his peripherals he could see your wicked smile as you popped off his dick, gingerly mixing the wetness all over, two slippery hands jerking him off, twisting under the capped head, in a slow, teasing, mind-numbing pattern.
The custodians shrugged, before turning around and heading off for the night.
And as they left, something inside his mind snapped. Something possessive, perverted, and deranged.
“You playin’ with me?” His eyes were wild. Gone was his professionalism, his shy resolve nowhere to be found. His heart was pounding. He needed you.
“Finally got the hint?” You shoot back, challengingly.
He huffed out a breath of warm air, before firmly gripping your throat and shoving your mouth back onto his cock. You readily latched on, sucking and licking and moaning, one hand massaging his balls, the other twisting over whatever exposed length was left of him.
Your tongue was unrelenting, and he was bucking up, abusing your throat. He loved the way your throat bulged at every snap! of his hips, as he shoved his long, fat dick down, down, down. So far gone was the shy man you met every past Friday. His eyes were now glazed and glassy, his lips bitten completely red, sweat rolling hypnotically past his brow piercing and along his sharp jaw. He was drunk off the way your mouth felt. Drunk off the way his dick was using you. Drunk off the way you look; broken, teary-eyed, mouth gagged, and throat bulging with his heavy cock buried inside.
Before you know it, he's slipping out, one hand on your throat to keep you still, while the other wraps around the base of his cock. He slaps his wet dick against your cheek, before rubbing and sliding himself along your smooth skin. Your legs clench as you realize from base to tip his cock is as big as your head. And when you looked into his eyes, you could tell he saw it too. He wasn’t looking at you though, you realized. He was looking at himself. He wasn't just tapping his dripping cock against your flushed skin. This twisted motherfucker was measuring.
“Heh- I’ve never felt a pussy before,” he continues his rocking against your face, “d’ya think it’ll fit?”
Your eyes widened. This man, with his pierced ears and studded brow, muscular arms and ginormous cock, was a fucking virgin?
Surely, he was lying. He had to be.
But as you assessed him, his wrecked and earnest features, there was no doubt that he wasn’t telling you anything but the hard, honest truth.
“I-” your heart does something funny in your chest, while a fresh wave of slickness soaks your already drenched panties. You address him with equal earnestness, “I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself, Choso.”
And oh, he was a goner. He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, how casually you addressed him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy now.
“Does the window close?” You ask. You were still under the table, and completely oblivious to the way his heart felt like it was exploding behind his ribcage.
“Y-yeah,” he nodded quickly, jerkily. Dazed and partly delirious.
He shoved himself back into his pants, not caring to button as he pulled his long, black shirt down enough to cover himself. He stood and leaned over the table, sliding the service window shut and pulling the metal security shutters down. You crawled out from under the table as he went and locked the door.
It was well past 7pm at this point, and the usual office stragglers were long gone by now. The two of you were alone.
He lends you his hand and you take it. Your manicured fingers swallowed by his scarred and calloused ones.
Your knees crack as you stand to your full height. He reaches to wrap his hands around either side of your throat, his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks.
“Let me kiss you,”
It wasn’t even a question. His brain was too consumed in the haze of you, you, you.
Your chest rose and fell. Your hands found his biceps, and you slowly slid them up, up, up to his shoulders, then to his chest, feeling the hidden muscles of his upper body.
You hooked your finger in the collar of his shirt, before tugging, bringing him close enough that your lips were brushing his.
You looked up at him through your lashes, a sly smile creeping onto your features, “I’ll think on it.”
He groaned. His forehead pressed against yours. The tip of his nose softly tracing yours. You were both so close to each other that your lips would brush from the smallest of movements.
His fingers moved from your throat and into your hair, and you could feel him rutting and rubbing his throbbing erection against your leg in the most desperate, pathetic way.
“Fuckin’ tease.”
Your heart was beating so traitorously loud against your chest, and the pressure building in between your legs was making you ache, your pussy clenching at the feeling of being without.
You smile at him wickedly. “Earn it then.”
And before he can think, you’re dragging his shaky hand between your thighs, your skirt riding up, up, up past your legs, before scrunching around your waist.
He might pass out.
Because here you were - tits pressing against your tight button down, nipples raised through your bra, lace covered cunt exposed, and ass only half-covered by your bunched up skirt.
And when he finally, finally dips his trembling fingers just underneath the absolutely soaked lace of your panties, grazing your poor, neglected pussy, you sigh out the most breathy, sinful sound in his ear. Could one get infinitely times harder? He couldn’t tell. But he was starting to feel lightheaded with how much blood was rushing from his head to his cock, which was flaring with the freshest waves of need.
“I- I’ve never done this before,” he said it as if in a trance. His eyes were glassy. He looked hypnotized, almost possessed by the way the tips of his fingers were drenched in your wetness, how your pussy lips were greedily sucking him in so desperately, how they made the prettiest squelch! as his finger got devoured, inch by fucking inch, by your warm, velvety walls.
Your eyes rolled back and your mouth parted in the most sensual “o” that he’s only ever seen from stuff online. He felt the air get knocked out of his lungs. All of his college “experiences” (if he could even call jizzing untouched and awkward blow jobs milestones in his sexual portfolio) paled in comparison to the display that your pussy was showing him right now. He used his thumb to spread your lips apart, watching his fingers disappear in and out, in and out.
Fuck.
And then he was everywhere.
He has your shirt ripped off in seconds, your bra shoved down. His unoccupied hand is squeezing one of your tits, while his mouth latches on to the other, sucking and biting your nipples in a way that has your toes curling, and - did Kamo Choso have a tongue piercing??
Below, his one finger became two, jamming into your tight, tight hole, before pumping in and out, in and out in the most depraved way. And when he accidentally crooked his fingers, massaging and fucking into your most sensitive spots, you moaned, your red nails scraping against his broad shoulders.
“Touch me here too,” you all but gasp out, your delicate hands moving his thumb to rub circles against your clit, just as you had done in the video he watched of you on your phone earlier.
Ever the most astute student, he listened to your every word. He made note of the things that had you going stupid, and changed gears when you tapped him on his biceps. He was a quick study (a bona fide geek after all), and soon he found the most relentless, ruthless, dumbifying tempo that he had you fucking squirting and spraying all over his wrists and down onto the floor below.
And then he’s pushing you until your ass is leaning against the workdesk. He spreads your legs apart and drops to his knees. When he stared up at you, he looked so, so gone.
His glasses were smudged and pushed up, the tip of his scarred nose nudged your clit, and his pink lips opened to dip his soft tongue against your folds. The cool metal ball of his tongue piercing the only solace against ur blazing skin. It’s his turn to slurp you up, and god how you tasted-
One of his hands is firmly gripping your thigh, his face disappearing completely as his mouth is on your cunt, kissing and licking and sucking and massaging. The other is fisting his leaking cock. You tasted so fuckin’ good on his tongue. So warm. So wet. So sweet. He could do this forever. He would beg to do this forever.
“Have I-” he hiccupped, “have I earned it yet, sweetheart?” His glasses are wet with your juices. He’s panting, warm puffs of air hitting your core.
You were shaking. Yeah, yeah. He earned it.
“Yes, yes Cho-” your praises of him blended together, spilling and slurring out of your mouth without pause.
“Thank god.”
And then he’s back at it, eating you out so good, his tongue bullying inside of your tight hole. The scar on his nose fully rubbing against your clit, finding home on your body. And you feel it - your legs beginning to shake, your heart pounding in your throat. You’re panting, whining, holding his head to you like you’ll keep him there and suffocate him. The overwhelming waves of your orgasm crashing into you as he fucks his tongue into your greedy pussy, lips latched on and giving the sweetest suction.
Your hands are in his hair, your vision blurred and teary, you’re calling out his name like its religion.
And him? He’s trying to memorize the way your walls clench around his tongue, begging for him to stay, keeping him inside you. He’s trying to burn into memory the way you’re fuckin gushing wetness all over his chin, the way your tits bounce up as you arch your back in the most sinful way.
Only after you come down from your high, Choso finally stands. He rests his two palms on the table space on either side of your thighs, caging you in, before resting his damp forehead in the crook of your neck.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into your skin, his soft lips kissing against your jugular.
“Don’t thank me yet,” you tease. Your hands find his hair, lightly running your fingers through his scalp before saying, “we aren’t even close to being done.”
He looks up at you curiously, innocently. “We… can do more?”
Oh, so he seriously was a virgin.
“Cho…” His knees weaken at the nickname. “We’ve just barely begun.”
He involuntarily bucks his hips at your response, rubbing his painful erection against your leg. His briefs were wet and stained with pre. You lifted his shirt above his head. He pulled your soaked panties down your damp legs.
You were still sitting on the worktable, your legs ajar, and your pussy a sloppy mixture of your release and his own saliva. He nudges the tip of his length to kiss against your hole. A deep, choked sigh escapes his mouth at the softness of your pussylips, the slipperyness of your wetness, the warmth that radiated from your core and onto his weeping dick.
He slips his cock against your folds, teasingly gliding against your clit as he pulses against your skin. Choso’s lips catch your own, his tongue massaging yours, while his hands grope your sensitive, swollen breasts.
“F-fuuuh,” he’s whimpering into your mouth, lips wobbling, so fuckin’ overwhelmed by the insane sensations of your pussy rubbing against his dick, your mouth moving against his own, and your tits, god your tits, in his large, shaky palms.
And he can’t help it, really.
His dick was still jerking like crazy from the head you gave him earlier. Your soft pussylips were slathering him in your juices, your tongue licking his tongue piercing like you did his cock, and your nipples so peaked he wanted to suck on them.
So it’s no surprise, really, when his meaty dick started to leak slow ropes of his sticky, thick cum against your outer folds.
And you were still making out with him when you realized, the warm gooey feeling spurting out onto your hole was coming from him, that your breath caught in your throat - a soft gasp leaving your mouth as it got swallowed by his languid tongue.
He was so pathetic, he thought.
He just came before he even stuck it in.
He pulled away from your mouth. “I-” he was humiliated, face burning with shame, glasses fogged and head facing towards the floor. He was searching for the right words, when you grabbed his still hard penis and gave him the same smile he saw before. The kind of smile you gave when you got on your knees and crawled under the desk.
You lightly push him until he’s sitting on his wide, creaky work chair. You slide off the worktable gracefully, before joining him. You’re straddling him, tits skimming his chest, his dick standing tall between the two of your legs. Though you haven’t said it outright, the implications of your actions hang heavy in the air; he knows - he realizes what you want, what he wants, and what will inevitably happen.
“If you don’t want this, say it now,” you say.
His eyes were big, and he’s staring at you so reverently, like you were a goddess, his goddess. He shakes his head.
“Use your words, Cho,” you rest your hand on his throat, your manicured thumb parting his wobbly lips.
He was pathetic. But you loved it.
He had tears in his eyes and he had no idea why. Perhaps from humiliation. Perhaps from overstimulation. Perhaps from the fact that the hottest girl he’s ever laid eyes on was about to fuck his brains out and leave him stupified beyond belief. Probably most definitely the latter. “I want this,” he gasps out. “I want you - fuck - I need you, to be inside you, ple-”
You shut him up with your mouth, massaging and leading and biting. Your hands slowly traverse from his neck and down his hard chest, past his abs, before resting at his base, fingers tangling in the tufts of dark hair there. He was still covered in his own cum, white and warm and sticky against your palms.
“Don’t worry,” you were almost purring against his red, swollen lips. “I’ll take good care of you.”
And now you’re tipping the head of his cum-covered cock towards your glistening hole, and he feels like he’s going dizzy.
Holy shit, this was it. It’s happening.
You break away from him, and the two of you stare as you drag his gooey-covered cockhead allllll around your pussylips, leaving even more mess in its trail. And when his hard length dips slightly into your folds, his mushroomed tip kissing against your entrance, he could swear he almost blacked out.
“You’re so big, Cho” you cutely pout. His dick throbs before swelling even larger at your words. “It’s even better than I’ve ever imagined.” You say the last part quietly, reverently, almost shyly.
And, holy hell, that does something to him.
Choso involuntarily bucks at the thought of you thinking about him, about his dick, just as how he thought of you for all these years, and the tip of his cum-covered cock slips right into the tight ring of your pussy without warning.
Your head knocks back as his own falls forward, the two of your hot breaths puffing into the heady air.
You were gasping. Even though it was just the head, it felt like you were being stretched beyond belief, your walls wrapping around and latching onto his length so snuggly, so… deliciously, that it had Choso whimpering into your bare tits.
You were greedy, slightly possessed, and fuckin’ hungry. You roll your hips forward slightly, pushing his throbbing cock another inch deeper into your gummy pussy, and his hands find purchase on the fleshy curve of your ass. “C’mon now,” you say slyly, “I know my good boy can take it.”
His dick jerks at your words. You have Choso seeing stars. He thinks his hearing was starting to go in his left ear. He’s drunk, he’s addicted, he’s… he’s not even halfway inside you yet and he feels like he is teetering on the edges of his sanity.
“S-stop teasing me,” he almost cries it out. His fingertips kneed into your ass. He wants to bottom out completely inside you. He wants to feel so impossibly close to you that he forgets his own name, that he forgets where his body ends and yours begins.
And you comply. You always would, for him.
He watches as his dick gets swallowed by your stretched lips. The residual cum on his cock from earlier either smears inside you or begins to froth at his base. And you feel so fuckin’ good, your greedy cunt sucking up every inch of him until he’s finally, finally, bottoming out into your warmth.
“Thaaat’s it, Cho,” you can feel his leaking tip smooching against your cervix, the veins on his dick pulsing against your gummy walls, the residual cum from earlier clinging to your clit. You’re gushing new waves of slick, and he feels how you convulse around him, squeezing tight against his meat like a fuckin’ sin.
You don’t even give him time to breathe, to even think, because you begin to ride him like a fuckin’ animal, like a goddamn pro. Your tits are bouncing in his face, your ass clapping against his thighs, his cock filling you up like it’s ritual, and his tip fucking into your g-spot savagely, ruthlessly, unforgivingly. Before you know it, he’s bucking his hips up to meet yours, the obscene sound of skin slapping on skin echoing throughout the small space of the IT room.
He’s panting your name like a prayer, his hands holding you like you were something sacred, and his heart pounding against his ribcage like he’s at confessional.
And yeah, he may have never done this before, he may have never felt the embrace of a woman’s pussy on his cock - but he knew immediately, decisively, that yours was the best. He knew that everyone else’s would pale in comparison. And he knew, deep down, that when this is all over, he would be jaded and lost from mourning the feeling of you. He knew yours would be the only one he would search for in his life.
“Cho,” you whisper, voice catching and breaking with every thwk thwk thwk! of his balls slapping against your ass. “You’re doing so well,” you hiccup, partially delirious. “I can feel you allllll the way up here.” And then you drag your manicured nail from where the two of you were connected, juices wetting your fingerpads, as it rose all the way up, up, up, to the slightly protruding bump in your belly. You press your hand on it lightly, and he realizes that the bump is from him, from where his achingly large cock was shoved inside you and pressed against your womb.
He can feel his cock rush with blood, growing larger in your belly, filling and stuffing you even more fully - completely. And you feel it too. He breathes through his nose, small traces of drool slipping from the sides of his mouth. You squeeze your tits together, giving him a show.
He’s dangerously flushed, sweat (or was it tears?) running down his cheeks. You’re gushing fresh wetness all around his dick, your warm walls clinging to him so needily, almost possessively, as the tip of his cock pounds against your most sensitive spot until it's bruised. And he’s leaking so much pre that the mixture begins to slather so messily around your glistening hole, frothing at his base and running down his balls.
It was so filthy. So dirty. So fucking addictive.
His mouth finds the sensitive buds of your nipples, his piercing flicking over the stiffened peaks. One of his hands rubs your combined juices into your swollen clit, while the other grabs on to the fleshy parts of your ass.
Its your turn to cry out, to whimper at the sensations of his steady hands against your blazing skin, his pulsing cock inside your squeezing pussy.
“Thaaat’s it pretty girl,” he breathes. He leaves your nipples to suck on the sensitive skin by your ear. “My pretty girl. This what you were lookin’ for?”
He snaps his hips up, balls spanking your ass. His thick cock burrowing impossibly further inside of you.
Your words come out garbled - halfway between pleading and praise.
He grins at you.
“Use,” he pulls his cock out almost completely, your quivering pussy squeezing so tightly around the head of him, as if begging him not to leave.
“Your,” he finally pulls away with a grunt.
“Words,” he smacks his fat, heavy, dripping cock against your entrance. The sound it made left your ears buzzing.
“Pretty girl.” He’s shoving into you so fast you feel him in your fucking lungs.
He’s gripping your hips, using his strength to fuck your body on his cock. He was handling you like you were a sex doll.
What the fuck? This was the same nerd from before?
Your tongue meets his, and you’re messily making out with each other: you lick his tongue like you’re licking his dick, and he grabs your throat to pull you away, before spitting into your mouth. Drool spills from your lips and onto your chins. He’s pulling you onto his dick like you were a toy, only pausing briefly to spank your ass and feel it jiggle against his thighs.
Your actions were getting clumsier: nails scratching randomly at his chest, tongue licking messily up his throat, moans echoing off of his damp skin. His hips were beginning to stutter: his dick was fucking into you in a broken rythm, mushroomed head blooming with every pulse. You both were teetering around the edges of your sanity, and the only sounds between you were sharp breaths and the slapping of your soaking cunt against his soaked cock.
“Fuck, I’m-” his throat squeezes, every word a battle to get out. He forces his bleary eyes open to watch his dick disappear inside you - fucking into your womb again, and again, and again. He feels his balls beginning to tighten, his shaft becoming taught. He needs to cum. He needs to pull out.
And he starts to - when your hand tightens around the back of his neck.
“Don’t you, oh,” there's tears streaming down your face, your eyes glassy, your head spinning with how cockdrunk you were, “don’t you fuckin’ dare, Cho.”
He’s so dumbified it takes him several moments to register the implications of your words.
“I-inside?” He’s stuttering, trembling.
“Inside.”
And then he breaks, and you break around him. He’s releasing so much of his thick, gooey cum inside you that it swells in your tummy, bloating your core. He watches as you squirt and spray and spasm around his base, fresh waves of wetness soaking the expanse of skin between you both. His hips keep snapping up with each peak of your orgasm, fucking his seed deeper and deeper, fucking himself so hard into your body until it feels like you can taste him in your throat.
Neither of you say a word, both of you transfixed on the way that the other feels. You were so stuffed that his cum began to leak out of you, slowly falling and pooling at the base of his cock.
“You… you are so divine,” he whispers, his hips still lightly rutting inside you, catching the last waves of your peaks, as he kisses along the base of your jaw.
You can’t speak, your throat felt too hoarse, you were too too dazed, too fucked-out. But you nudge your nose against his, your lashes fluttering against his clammy skin.
Gently, he lifts you from his cock. He watches as you slowly release his dick, before a gush of his seed spills from your swollen pussylips.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, his thumb immediately catching the gobs of his oozing seed.
Without a word, you catch his careful fingers, and he watches in fading confusion as you push his thumb back inside you, bringing his cum along with him.
“No waste,” you whisper.
Oh.
And after some recuperation time, you both stand and begin to dress in silence. Something tender hangs heavy in the heady air of the IT room, but Choso can’t help but feel the pricks of anxiety blooming in his chest with every passing second.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he asks for your number.
And your swollen lips break out into the prettiest smile, your eyes twinkling up at him.
“I’ll think on it…” you tease. He grins, his hands find your waist to pull you closer to him.
“What do I gotta do to earn it this time?”
You tap your chin in mock thought, your smile light and warm. “Come get dinner with me tonight.”
And for you? He would do anything.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ “₊ ݁.
Several weeks have passed, and Choso’s morning genuinely could not have gone better.
Not only did his 6AM alarm go off, but you had slept over last night (and yes, falling asleep cuddling with his dick inside you did contribute to both of your fantastic moods). His morning routine was now a mixture of staring at your pretty face whilst in peaceful slumber, going through a 6-step skincare routine (courtesy of you), and picking up Toji’s overpriced top-line coffee for two.
Though the train from his neighborhood to Chiyoda City was packed full today, he did not mind. It gave him more of an excuse to huddle closer to you, hands brushing together, one of his earbuds in your ear (the other in his) as your joint playlist hummed in the background. Your chest was lightly pressed against his, two wild hearts beating to the same, familiar tune.
And of course, the cherry on top was that it was a Friday. The two of you had agreed that it would finally be okay to get breakfast together today, and maybe even sit and eat at a window table afterwards.
And Choso? Choso was the happiest he has ever felt. Largely due to you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part due to the fact he got to see Gojo’s ridiculously large mouth fall to the floor at the sight of you and Choso walking in together today.
𝜗𝜚 Megumi isn’t shy, he swears! Although, he might be when he’s buried inside you.
more like this
ೃ࿔*:･
Megumi Fushiguro insists he doesn’t blush, doesn’t get pink with embarrassment. He insists, bangs falling prettily in front of his eyes, that he never flushes, and when he turns pink it’s simply the warmth.
He insists vehemently upon a faulty thermostat, or an Indian summer, even when he’s bright red with sweat beading at his temples and soaking into the scratchy hair at the nape of his neck.
It’s just the temperature.
“T-temperature, huh, Megs?” You pant, thighs looped snugly around his waist as he fills you up with each devastatingly good thrust.
“Be- be quiet.” He says, voice stuck somewhere between a gasp and a groan; he’s trying to ignore the prickly heat crawling around his spine and up his neck to paint his face a rosy red - to little avail. “S’not my fault.”
Swallowing down a whine threatening to claw from your throat, “Yeah? Is it mine then?”
He averts his eyes from your pretty face, only to be met with the sight of your tits, a sheen of his salvia glossing over the soft skin and lacquering across the little bite marks. He swallows down the whimper threatening to build in his throat.
Jesus, he thinks, you’re so pretty like this.
Megumi feels his face heat up more, and curses himself as he tries not to acknowledge the fact he’s quite literally buried inside you.
Buried deep inside you at that; your hips meeting is messy with every jolt from his pelvis, as more and more slippery webs of gloss drip from your entrance and graze his base.
“Aw,” you laugh, stuttering speech out even through the little tattered moans Megumi is currently punching out of you straight from your sopping cunt below. “You’re- ah! - sooooo pink right now, M-Megs.”
He is, you aren’t even exaggerating- his face is blotchy, patches of roseate working their way across his nose and cheeks like they’re laying claim to the skin, trying to work their way up to dye his eyelashes rose.
And his back is pink too - although, perhaps it’s not from embarrassment; it’s courtesy of the jagged marks splaying across the pale skin, little scratches from your nails because you couldn’t help but cling onto him as he fucks you so well.
You take his face in your shaky palms, doing your utmost best to ignore the slick squelching echoing around the room. You just can’t seem to keep your hands steady, being knocked off balance every time his drooling cock prods at your soft insides.
His tip is leaking, has been for a while now; salty, pearlescent little beads flow messily from his slit and mix with your own wetness, puddling in a wet splotch onto the mattress he knows you’ll complain about later as he hugs you.
But for now, he’s much too focussed on making you see stars- and praying internally you forget about his rouged up face.
“Mhmm, you’re just so shy for me, aren’t you Megs?” Clearly, he wasn’t trying hard enough. “All embarrassed, all pretty and- and pink from fucking me?” You huff out a laugh, although it quickly dissolves into a flurry of whines as he readjusts his angle.
“N-no.” He groans, burying his face into your sweaty shoulder like it’ll offer him safety. It doesn’t. You drag him up, hands in his hair, and pull him into a soft kiss as you clench around him.
His lips are comfy against your own, tongue lazily tracing shapes across your mouth as his fingers do the same between your legs.
“Megs,” you breathe, “m’gonna cum if you keep doing that.”
“Then do it.” He murmurs brokenly, voice twitching in synchronicity with his cock as it jams up against what feels like your spongy cervix. “Just- just do it, okay?”
You nod obediently, screw your eyes up with the feeling of his very flushed, very shaky lips mouthing over your throat. Muscles tense up, and thighs clench around your boyfriend’s waist as colours pop behind your eyelids.
You don’t even register his orgasm, too busy riding out your own. Megumi’s happy trail scratches your pelvis, but you don’t mind; too lost in the feeling of his hands on your waist, hips, face, too invested in the way he moans your name so prettily.
Once the aftershocks die down, and he’s stilled inside you, you start to breathe properly and croak out words again.
“Megs?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re still, like, really pink.” You whisper. Megumi groans, embarrassed. “I really need you to stop talking, please.”
You giggle, and rake a hand through his dark hair while he clings to you like a limpet in a rockpool. “I’ll think about it.”
i NEED jack abott x reader breeding kink pregnancy
THIS IS MY SLEEPER AGENT PHRASE. MY WAKE WORD. MY DREAM. actually unfortunately need Jack to breed me at this point.
Unfortunately, I have a sickness where I can't just write smut, so here's a 4k Jack one shot!
Content: Douchey! Jack, AFAB! Reader, Smut, Oral (F! Receiving always), PIV Sex, unprotected sex, Breeding kink, Creampie, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, Some mentions of alcohol consumption, reader is wearing a dress & has hair that can be put in a ponytail. UNEDITED!! I can't stress enough I was riffing after work and then i was 9 pages into a google doc
It shouldn’t be surprising you found yourself here, in the clutches of the very man you had been warned to stay away from. The very man who had made it his mission to make you weak in the knees every time you saw him. The exact same man who had a very nasty habit of making girls like you lustfully silly only to leave them high and dry once he was finished.
Jack Abbot was not to be trusted, that was all you knew.
Jack, who was actually your roommate’s boss, who had a reputation for bedding women no more than once. Jack, who had spotted you at a picnic last fall and has been hot on your trail ever since. Jack, who had you flat against your mattress, his body laid heavy on top of your own while he ruts against your jeans like a wild animal.
It shouldn’t be surprising, but you genuinely were shocked you managed to last this long. It had been well over six months of his flirting whenever you’d stop by to drop off Parker’s lunch, insisting he join girls nights as ‘protection’, and mysterious deliveries arriving at the door with the same scrawled script attached.
You were resolved to not become one of his pursuits, turning a blind eye and cold shoulder to each attempt. Ellis had told you stories in passing, Shen, who was a frequent guest at your shared apartment, had filled you in on his dirty details. And you, you had an imagination that could supply the rest.
Jack Abbot, the hot-shot emergency medicine attending, loved the chase. He liked to pick the women who were obstinate, focused, and borderline repressed. He liked the way they crumbled beneath his sly approaches. He liked the blind admiration he can garner when they do fall into step with him. He craved their borderline obsessive eagerness.
It hadn’t always been like this. Once upon a time, Jack Abbot was someone’s husband. He was someone’s very attentive, loyal, devoted husband. One who yearned for the whole package, the white picket fence, the huddle of small children running around, the soccer games and dance recitals. Life did not sway in his favor. So now here he was, down half a limb, down a wife, and all he had to show for his life was a boatload of traumatic experiences.
The first girl he pursued was earnest and genuine, he thought maybe this was the next phase of his forsaken life. The morning after, walking up in his marital bed, turning over to the warm body on the other side, and not seeing his beloved wife was a punch of betrayal in his gut.
So, he had resigned to a life of celibacy. Until the next girl crossed his path, and he found himself at mercy to this vicious cycle.
You came into his life similarly enough to his others. Ellis had mentioned her roommate more than once, and how she was doing her a solid paying rent while she completed her residency. Abbot hadn’t thought twice about you, until he saw you at the annual picnic he’d been practically dragged to by Dana.
You were glowing under the midsummer sun. Your smile presence was smooth and easy around the team that seemed to operate as a machine without effort. He admired you at first, just from afar, and that was enough to warrant Parker’s harsh warning that you were off limits.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, that was what cemented Jack’s need to have a taste of you.
Six months of heavy flirtation later, he couldn’t seem to figure out what it is he wanted from you. Or, he could, and that’s what scared him. He wanted to sleep with you, but he also knew he wanted to take you to dinner every Friday night. He wanted to tuck the stray hair that falls out of your ponytail. He knew your likes, dislikes, fears, aspirations, and he couldn’t believe how well they seemed to fit against his own.
This blind pursuit of pleasure for him had spiraled into something much headier, affection. Dare he say it, but Jack Abbot was starting to feel the violet throws of love.
It all came to a head one Saturday afternoon. He knew Ellis would be working a double that day, so she was out of the house. He also knew you liked to take advantage of having the house to yourself for the rare occasions.
So, Jack, seemingly an expert at your preferences, picked up your favorite flowers from the elegant florist in his neighborhood, and made his way to your place. He had a plan, one that was going to win you over for good. Or at least he thought he did, until he knocked on your door.
You had swung it open expecting to see an amazon delivery truck pulling away from the curb, or maybe at most some sort of solicitor. You hadn’t expected Jack, or better yet Jack standing behind a giant bouquet of flowers.
“Oh!” You startled, “Jack! Hi!”
“Hi.” He said simply, trailing off. His eyes scanned over you dreamily. “Hi.” He repeated himself.
“Hi?” You laugh, short and angelic, the sound washes over him deliciously. “Um, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I wanted to give you these,” He offers the large bouquet, laying them in your arms gently when you do take them. “And I wanted to ask you to dinner tonight.”
“Thank you Jack,” You brought the flowers up to your face to admire, “You really didn’t need to.”
“No, no” He rocked back and forth slowly, “I wanted to. I know you like them.”
You smile up at him sweetly. “I do. They’re my favorite, but I’m sure you knew that.”
He smirked in response.
“Jack, I...” You trailed off, “I’m not going to sleep with you.” You declare softly.
“Well, that’s forward, Sweetheart. I believe I asked you to dinner.” You shoot him a nonplussed look.
“It’s never just ‘dinner’ with you, though.” He sighed dejectedly, “Is it Jack?”
He grunts in frustration, just barely audible. “I’m not messing around here,” he raises three fingers, “Scouts Honor.”
“Were you even a Scout, Abbot?” You shoot back.
“Eagle,” He puffed his chest out, dropping the salute, “And just think of it this way. If I do anything untoward Ellis will have my head hung over your fireplace before dawn.” You bark a laugh at the image, which did inspire confidence.
“It would be a good look.” You bite your lip, imagining him in about a million other scenarios in, around, and next to the fireplace inside. “She does know where you live.”
“Right.” He brought his hand to lean against the door jam, until his head was level with yours. Perfect to give you a dose of his intense eye contact. “So, what do you think? Dinner at 7?”
You pretend to think for a minute before relenting. “Don’t be late, Abbot.”
You hardly miss the triumphed look he shoots you. You expect more of a gloat from his victory, but he doesn’t. He straightens out, smiles politely, and speaks softly. “I’ll see you at 7:00 sharp, Sweetheart.”
Watching him walk down the steps back out to his truck, you tried to quell the butterflies that began their swarm. It was too late, when Jack peaked back over his shoulder back at you with a brilliant smile, you knew he had you right where he wanted.
The date itself was a testament to how well both of you had gotten to know each other throughout this dance you’d been doing. Dinner was intimate and romantic, low candle light and endless conversation set the tone for the rest of the night. He was dependably himself, but kept you on your toes at the same time.
He’d told you stories of his late wife over dessert, listened to you lament about your frustrations while he laid his card down for the bill. Subtle, but absolutely pointed. He was sending the message loud and clear.
As long as you’re mine, I’ll be taking care of you.
“Okay, if you did stick to that plan, where would you be?” He asked, swirling the last few sips of wine around his glass.
“Honestly?” Your cheeks burn, and you stopped trying to figure out if it was the wine or how hard he made you smile. “I thought I’d be married by now.” You admit coyly. It takes Jack considerable effort to stay calm at the admittance.
“Really?” He raises his eyebrows, “Are the Men in Pittsburg so bad you can’t find a single one to settle down with?” He throws the line out and watches you circle it, once, twice, and then finally you sink further into the leather seat.
“Well, I thought so for a long time…” You bite down. “But now I’m rethinking it.”
He nods slowly, casually, even though the moment feels heavy between you. “What makes you say that?”
“I think you know, Abbot.” Your foot stretches out until it sits just next to his.
“Jack, please,” He inches his good leg to brush against yours. “I want you to call me Jack.” He blushes at the confession.
“Jack,” you test the waters, even though you’d said his name a thousand times. “S’a great name.” you mumble, earning a dry chuckle from him.
“So,” He deflected, “Married. What else?” He refocuses you.
You squirm under the weight of the question, you knew exactly what you wanted. And you also knew, with his reputation, Jack was the last person likely to give it to you. You hesitate, shying away from the vulnerability.
Jack, for his part, senses your unease and offers you his hand in reassurance. You let a moment pass before slipping into his grasp easily. His calloused palms are soothing, you let your fingers explore the planes of his palm, past his wrist and dance across his forearm.
“I want to be a Mom.” You admit, softer than you could imagine. Jack nearly misses the secret shared between you. He thanks every God in existence that he hadn’t. That you trusted him with it, that you said the just exact right thing as always. He felt his blood pounding through him.
“You will be,” He wraps his hand around yours, and gives it a soft squeeze. He catches your eyes with an earnest intensity you’d never seen before. “ You will.”
You're nodding before you even realize it, and he nods with you. You sit in this trance where all you can do is imagine if every right thing were to happen tonight, if the pieces just fit the way you wished them to. If Jack stayed, you could see a world of lovely things happening to you.
“C’mon, Sweetheart,” he nods to the door, “let’s get out of here.”
The drive home happened in the blink of an eye. Jack was the perfect gentleman, the only touch being his hand safely draped across your thigh. You can hardly think until you’re both standing, again, at your door. He’s respectful, walking you up, but not pushing you to open the door.
It’s you who makes the first move, as Jack takes a step back to end the night your hand finds itself curled around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back to you. You pull until he’s flush against you, and he responds immediately. His hands wrapped around your back and his lips against yours fervently.
Jack kisses like he’s starving. His stubble scrapes deliciously against your soft skin, letting your mind wander to other tantalizing ways it might rub against you. Your lips collide with clumsy passion. Your senses are overwhelmed by him, his cologne, the sound of his subtle groans, the steady presence of his hands keeping you anchored to reality.
“Come inside?” You ask innocently. He bites back a comment, yes, I will.
“I thought you weren’t going to sleep with me, Sweetheart?” He teases, trailing his kisses down your neck until he finds your pulse point and attacks. Your head falls back against the door.
“Shut up,” You pull him by the grey curls until his mouth slots over yours again, “Don’t make me ask again.”
He nods against you, taking a moment to watch your eyes, to see if there was any lingering hesitation. He had to brace himself against you when you matched his eyes, the same wanton longing burning you alive.
So, now you find yourself sandwiched between Jack and the mattress you’d had since college. He’d pressed you down under him minutes, hours, days, years ago? You had lost all sense that wasn’t the wonderful sensation of him pulling pleasure from you. His erection digging into your core, a burning that once lived as an ache inside of you threatens to consume you with every touch.
“Jack,” You moan out, “Please I need you.”
He pulls away, looking at your blissed out expression. “Yeah?” You nod, he backs off of you, planting his feet back on the floor. His hands grip your hips and pull until you’re at the foot of the bed, laid in front of him.
“You’re so fucking pretty for me.” He murmurs, propping your feet up so that he has a better view of your soaked underwear. His thumb traces the outline of your clit, you shudder at the feathered sensation. “So responsive.”
“Please,” you flop your knees apart, “Please, I need to cum Jack.” You declare.
Jack drops to his knees, pulling your panties down with him. He hardly takes the time to fling the offending garment somewhere behind him before he’s licking you entirely.
Your mouth drops open, letting a symphony of sound through freely. Jack’s tongue finds every peak and valley of your sex, every appendage and nook before settling home with a long suck to your clit. The button pulses beneath his ministrations, blood pumping so violently through your body you forget how to respond outside of primal instinct.
Blindly your hand finds his hair, your hips twitch against him for resistance until you're practically gliding against him. His hand slips easily to penetrate you in the madness. You feel the stretch passively but he plays against your nerves like some kind of prodigy. He brings the precipice of madness to you on a silver platter, slipping another finger in.
Your fingers curl, your heart pounds, the impossibly tight coil in the pit of your stomach becomes even lighter, pleasure zips through you entirely. Somewhere far away from yourself you hear the babbling coming from you, something reverent and beautiful. Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack!
He crooks his fingers experimentally, and doesn’t relent in positioning until he finds the exact right place inside of you that makes you go limp and brainless under him. You think you’ll fly away, and right when you think the pleasure can’t heighten further, he hums approvingly against that forsaken bundle of nerves.
You reel in all at once, your back arches off the bed, in near possession of pleasure. You cry out completely, your body sucks him in greedily, he takes the opportunity to scissor your opening out further. The pleasure that rocks over you is euphoric and spiritual, like shooting stars and becoming one.
It’s a long moment before your body is yours again. Jack waits, with reverence, for your body to subside its dance. He watches without blinking, how could he miss a second of this privilege.
“You’re so fucking good at that.” You whisper to no one and nobody. His laugh brings you back to sitting up, your dress pooling around your hips.
“You inspire greatness in me, Sweetheart,” He kisses you resolutely, “You’re perfect.” He whispers against you.
Neither of you waste time, he fiddles with the buttons of his shirt, you with a tug on your dress. It’s not long before both of you are bare before each other, spare Jack’s underwear. The snug fabric that reveals the outline of his impressive erection.
Your hooded gaze wanders over the impressive feature. You reach your hands out to touch it delicately, he hisses at the contact, but doesn’t move to stop you.
“I-” He gasps out when you tuck your hand into his boxers to wrap your hands around him. You watch him as you trace your fingers over the leaking tip. “I need to be inside of you, please.” He grabs your wrist softly. Your nod of approval is the last thing he needed before tugging the fabric down.
He lays you down, admiring you spread beneath him so sinfully. You return the sentiment, enjoying the carnal flush that’s spread over his broad shoulders and thick arms. He might be older than you’d usually date, but he was twice as handsome pulling your legs until you were practically folded in half under him.
“Is this position comfortable for your leg?” You ask genuinely. He groans, biting lightly at the ankle just by his head.
“So sweet to me,” he soothes the bite with a kiss. “It’s perfect.” He brings his cock up against you, rutting experimentally against your sex. The tip smears pre-cum against your clit, it twitches underneath the attention.
“Jack-” You start, fully intending to reach into your bedside for the little silver condom that sits for this exact reason. You mean to, you do, but you catch his eyes, and it’s like you can both feel the shift in the moment.
You wanted Jack, fully, entirely, completely, you didn’t want anything to sully the sensation. Jack locked his eyes fully onto yours before his tip caught your hole and he pressed in, slowly.
The stretch was immense, an expansive pleasure consumed you, he filled you deeper than anyone had ever done before. His girth inspired your body to come alive with sensation, and even more you could feel every ridge, vein, and contour of the member filling you.
Passively you thought, this is a bad idea. Jack could get you pregnant. But the thought only inspired your hole to flutter around him in pleasured spasms.
He kept moving into you slowly until you felt the familiar greeting of course hair tickling against you. He leant over, taking the moment to share an open kiss, checking in on you without words.
“S’deep.” You mumble against him, drunk on the feeling of fullness.
“Yeah?” He mocks, “So deep in you Sweetheart. No one ever been this deep?” He asks.
You shake your head quickly, “Never felt this good, Jackie, please move!” You all but beg.
Jack complies, setting a dangerously delightful pace, pulling almost all the way back before pushing down again, filling you completely. The air is knocked out of you, pushing little mewls and moans with it. Jack’s pace never faults, steady and strong through you.
“Feel so tight around me,” He grunts, “My tight pussy, yeah?” He mocks. You whine at the notion. “This my tight pussy?”
“Yes!” You can barely think, he shifts again, pushing against the deepest part of you. “Yes, yours Jack!”
He speeds his thrusts, a redness dawning over his shoulders, and blooming over his chest beautifully. Little groans and moans tumble past his lips every once and while, you savor each one like it’s gold.
“S’my pussy, I’m gonna make it mine.” He moves your legs until he’s got you perfectly angled for his thrusts to brush your cervix. “Little pussy loves me. Listen to her sing.” The sounds of slapping skin echo out.
“Jack! Jack, need you-” You gasp and writhe, pleasure tumbling through you, “Need you to come inside me-” You can barely get the words out before his pace becomes punishing.
“Fuck-” He breaks into maddening animalistic thrusts, “Want me to cum in your pussy, baby? Want me to make you a mommy?” He mocks, but the effect is instant. Your pussy flutters around him, the pleasure taking you away.
“Want me to fill this little pussy,” he can’t help himself anymore, the words tumble past his lips, “Want me to fill you up, get you pregnant. Want me- want me-” He trails off.
You simply accept his tirade, letting the everlong sensation of forbidden lust carry you through. Jack leans in until your lips are pressed against each other, breathes exchanged.
It’s surprisingly intimate given the filth he’d been spewing just seconds before. He watched you, and you returned the same, his thrusts begin to falter, your orgasm creeps dangerously close.
“Want to have your baby, Jack.” You declare suddenly, only moments before you’re sucked away into your second orgasm of the night. Liquid gushes around the base of his cock, making the sensation of your adventure that much more heightened.
Jack has about three more good thrusts before he’s slamming himself into you and letting himself empty deep inside of you. Your hips tilted upwards, the mess leaking further and further inside of you with every pulse of his cock. Your muscles are still contracting him closer and closer as you begin to return back to your body.
Neither one of you said anything for a long time. Jack lays on top of you, his cock softening inside of you, enjoying the feeling of his skin painted against yours. He traces every line of your body, trying to memorize the perfect plane of existence. The gift beneath him, that could be the answer to the prayer he’d lost hope on.
You feel similarly hopeful. There’s no doubt that Jack was going to take care of you, that he was going to make you feel safe and special. The lingering nag that reminded you that Jack’s track record didn’t rear its head until the morning after alerted itself. Before you can dwell on it, Jack’s pulling away and mumbling something about a washcloth.
You forfeit your worries for the night, preferring to enjoy the view of the man bobbing through your bathroom naked as the day he was born aside from the mechanical limb that he hadn’t taken off. Once he returns there’s no room for doubt.
It’s not until the next morning, when the door slams open and you can hear Parker calling for Jack from the living room.
“Abbot you have two minutes to get your old ass out here and explain why your Truck is in my spot this morning.” She called out distantly.
Abbot lets out a laugh, but tugs you closer, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, his hand snaking around to cradle your midsection. He wonders if it stuck, if he’d need to flip you over and try again this morning. Either way was fine with him, he wasn’t going anywhere.
A/N: Someone lock me up............. ANYWAYS. ENJOY!!
summary : you accuse klaus of using you, he reacts differently than you’d expect.
warnings : plot without porn, irregular use of past and present tense, dirty talk, oral (m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), rough sex, biting, multiple orgasms, restraining of limbs, overstimulation, consensual sex, squirting, slight breeding kink, size kink if you squint, unsafe sex - wrap it up pookies !, a little fluff snuck in their all on its own oops, not proofread, spelling & grammar mistakes
You’re sitting by the fire at the Salvatore boarding-house, reading a book, when a loud, demanding voice pulls you from your thoughts, breaking your concentration. Ruining your moment of peace.
“Where’s Damon?” The familiar British accent immediately gives its owner away: Klaus.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead closing the book - taking a mental note of the page number - before looking up.
He steps into the living room, eyes immediately finding your form on the couch. He’s in a bad mood. Great, you think.
“I don’t know, Klaus.” Your tone is sharp, yet respectful. Pissing him off when he’s in a bad mood is not a good idea. Although he’s never hurt you specifically, he’s hurt your friends plenty of times, and that’s enough warning for you.
He huffs, crossing his arms almost like a child, you think. You’d think he’d matured by now, having lived for over a thousand years, but no, he was impossibly immature sometimes.
Klaus just glares at you for a moment, and you glare back. Not one to back down so easily. Then he plops himself down in the armchair across from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you almost suspiciously.
The two of you sit in silence for what seems like several minutes, and you feel yourself growing more and more annoyed. In the end, you're the one to break the silence.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Klaus?” Voice even sharper than before.
He doesn't answer you right away, his eyes instead roaming over your form. Almost like he’s studying you. It's unnerving, and makes you sit up straighter.
He huffs once more, mirroring you, by sitting up straighter, too. “Just wondering where Damon is, love.”
Your heart betrays you then, fluttering slightly at the nickname. You will it to stop. You’re not special, you remind yourself. He calls every woman that. Not that you want to be special. That’s what you tell yourself, at least.
If he picks up on your heartbeat, he says nothing. You just hope he didn't notice; too busy being suspicious or annoyed, or whatever he’s feeling.
You shift a little on the couch, but refuse to look away. Refuse to back down.
“I don’t know where he is. Sorry,” You quickly add the last part, not wanting to egg him on.
“Don’t know, or won’t tell?” He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? You're on opposite sides. Enemies.
Elena is your friend, Stefan her boyfriend. Damon is your ally by default. Not that you particularly like him. Still, that doesn’t mean you want him dead - or whatever Klaus has planned for him.
“What makes you so sure I'd tell you if I knew?” The words leave your lips before you have a chance to think them over. Challenging him.
For a moment, he stills. Jaw clenching. Then, he smiles. A devious thing, head tilted just barely to the left, as his eyes pierce yours. He’s amused.
“You never were a very good liar,” He pauses, the smile growing. “At least, not with me.”
His words hit you like a gust of wind, making your resolve falter. Your own eyes narrowing, ears burning. You can only hope your face isn’t heating up too. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
His words are.. somewhat true. Not that you’d ever admit to it out loud.
These days, your friends hardly included you in their schemes. At least, not when Klaus was involved. But it hadn’t always been like that.
In the beginning, Damon had asked you to distract Klaus, and more than once. Every single time, you’d end up breaking, and telling him the truth. Betraying Damon, and your friends.
The first time it happened, you were sure Damon would kill you. Snap your neck, or something worse. Stefan and Elena had talked him down, convincing him that it wasn’t your fault. You were just a human, and Klaus was a thousand year old vampire. Powerful, terrifying. They’d even scolded him for using you in the first place.
You were only used for emergencies, after that. Five times, you’d been the distraction, and all five times, you’d caved to him. But not out of fear, as your friends assumed. No, you’d caved because of his charm.
The way he’d smile at you, so genuine, and almost affectionate. At the way his eyes would light up, just for a second, when you had approached him, before hardening once more. Never unfriendly, but closed off, still. Each time, his walls would crumble, little by little, and so would yours.
The last time it happened, you’d been told to distract him at The Grill. Keep him occupied, while Damon was snooping around in his apartment. He’d smiled, once his eyes caught yours, blue eyes piercing through you, as you sat down besides him.
You always felt as though he knew exactly what you were doing, even if he didn’t say it out loud. He was far too perceptive not to, you thought.
As they began talking, the way he was looking at you, it made your entire body flush with something unnamed. Looking at you with such- genuine, unabashed interest, as you droned on and on about something entirely inconsequential.
When he’d allowed you to speak for what seemed like an eternity, and you’d finally ran out of stuff to say, he’d just- looked at you with a knowing smile. Eyes gleaming with amusement, with mischief. And then he called you out.
“You’ve been a wonderful distraction, love,” His smirk had almost taken your breath away. “But, I think it’s time for you to stop this little charade, and tell me what your friends are planning this time.” He spoke with such finality, knowing you’d break down, and tell him what he wanted. As you always did.
And you had done just that. Little to no persuasion needed. He’d smiled, thanked you and left you at the bar, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Wondering why he had such a hold on you, when you were supposed to hate him.
That was the last time your friends had included you in their plans. After that, you were kept on the sideline whenever Klaus was involved.
You blink a few times. So caught up in your memories, you realized you’ve completely zoned out. Klaus is looking at you with a smug expression on his face. Lips curled into something devilish.
You feel the words catching in your throat, not sure how to respond to his words. They’re true, of course they are, but you don’t want to admit it. Least of all to him.
Your mouth opens and closes for a few moments, before staying shut, finally lowering your head, avoiding his eyes. Ashamed.
Hair falling in front of your face, to hide your shame.
He chuckles, a low, almost cruel thing. Clearly amused by your reaction, and your sudden lack of words. He’s enjoying this, you realize. Making you speechless. You should hate him for it, but you can’t find it in yourself.
You feel his eyes on you, even when you’re not looking. Studying you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your fingers begin fumbling with a loose thread on your pajama pants. Suddenly painfully aware of yourself, and what you’re wearing.
Your hair is loose, and slightly disheveled from moving against the velvet cushions on the couch. You discarded your sweater hours ago, now lying on the rug between the two of you, almost under the coffee table. Underneath it, a black top, trimmed with lace. Your pajama pants loose, the fabric thin, and almost see through. Almost.
You’re not wearing a bra, either. Why would you? You’re the only one here, both Stefan and Damon having left hours ago. You wanted to relax, to curl up on the couch, and read. Be alone.
But now you're not alone: Klaus is here, his eyes roaming your body, drinking in your every movement. No doubt listening to the rapid beating of your heart, and the way your pulse seems to have quickened under his gaze.
You gulp down on a lump of air, eyes still trained on the book in your hands. Still not able to look up and meet his gaze.
“Look at me.” He says. Demands. You obey, no hesitation. It only furthers your embarrassment. Your head tilts back up, face no longer obscured by your hair.
The way he looks at you, it’s almost too much.
Klaus is leaning back in the armchair, like a king would his throne. Relaxed, smug. His entire face lid up by the devious smirk splaying on his lips. He looks positively terrifying. Yet, you find yourself not scared, but almost.. enthralled, instead. Your body leaning towards him, entirely by instinct. He’s like a magnet, drawing you in.
“There she is,” He says, voice barely a whisper, almost as if speaking to himself. His eyes willing yours to look into his. If you weren’t wearing vervain, you’d probably wonder whether he was compelling you or not.
“Now tell me the truth, love. Where is Damon?” His voice is no longer annoyed, but instead dripping with amusement. He has you right where he wants you. He knew it, you knew it.
“He left with Stefan hours ago.” The words spill off your lips before you even have a chance to think about it.
“And where did he go, love?” Eyes narrowing very slightly, still not entirely convinced you wouldn’t try and deceive him again.
“I don’t know..” You trailed off, teeth biting down to nibble on your lower lip. A nervous habit of yours. “I promise.”
For what seemed like an eternity, Klaus just stared at you. Stared through you. His smile had faltered, the suspicion now back with full force. You shrunk slightly under his gaze, the power he had over you undeniable. Finally, he smiled. A lazy thing. But his eyes didn’t leave you.
“I believe you,” Pausing, as his face tilted, studying you. “But I do wonder..” Voice trailing off, now lazying on his chair (throne), legs spread out, arms on each rest. Staring you down, your eyes still unable to leave him.
“Why are you so loyal to them? You’re nothing but a pawn. Something to be used, and then discarded when you’ve outrun your use.”
If his earlier words had hit you like a gust of wind, this time, they hit you like a slap to the face. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. Elena and Stefan, they cared for you. They were your friends. Even Damon seemed to care, in his own, twisted way.
But coming from Klaus, the words seemed so.. final. They seemed true, and it made you question yourself.
“That’s..” You didn’t know how to respond. What to say, or how to deny it. What if it was true? What if you were just that; a pawn? Someone, something, to be used, and then tossed aside?
You felt the corners of your eyes beginning to sting. No doubt glazed over. You refused to cry in front of him; refused to give him the satisfaction.
Suddenly, you feel anger bubbling up inside of you. Anger directed at him, and not at your friends.
“And what about you?” Your eyes still trained on him, when you continue, “You use me. You use me, and then throw me away.” Your whole body now shaking with anger.
His face changes in an instant. Where his lips were once curled up in a smirk, they’re now a straight line. His jaw clenched, his whole face tense. Eyes darkening. Cold. The walls back up. He’s angry, you realize.
Why is he angry with you?
In a blur of motion, he’s left the chair. Standing right in front of the couch, glaring down at you with an almost murderous expression. For a second, you fill with dread. You poked the bear, and now he was going to hurt you.
But instead, he leans down, body and face, inching closer and closer to your own. You can’t move, suddenly frozen. Glued to your spot on the couch. All you can do is look at him, and gulp down a big lump of air. Your pulse impossibly fast, same as your heart.
His hands find the backrest, his arms now caging you in. His face is so close, that you can feel his breath on your skin, causing goosebumps to appear on any and all exposed skin. His scent engulfs you, causing your eyes to flutter. Lashes tickling your cheeks for mere moments. His cologne, something earthy and expensive, mixed with something that's just.. him. Musky, warm. Manly.
You smell whiskey, too. And something else. Copper. Your heart skips several beats. Blood.
You should be frightened, should want to escape. Instead, your thighs begin to rub against each other, entirely subconsciously. On instinct. You’ve never felt so ashamed in your life.
If he notices, he says nothing. He just keeps glaring down on you, jaw clenched, lips in a thin line. For what feels like an eternity, he does that. You stare back, helpless. Then, he opens his mouth. He’s angry.
“You think I use you?” His voice barely above a whisper. He’s not angry, he’s seething. “You dare compare me to those.. imbeciles, you call your friends?” You gasp.
“I would never use you,” This time his voice is laced with something else, now. A gentleness, perhaps? Your ears must be betraying you, your mind trying to trick you.
“All those times you came to me, distracting me,” So he does know. Are you even surprised?
“I allowed you to do just that. Distract me. Did it ever occur to you why I would do such a thing?” Your brows furrow, searching towards the middle of your face. What’s that supposed to mean?
He leans impossibly closer, his breath but a whisper on your lips. A promise..
Blue eyes searching your face, faltering to your lips several times, before catching your eyes once more. “You..” His eyes fall to your lips, seemingly lost for words. Klaus Mikaelson, lost for words. Now that’s a first.
Something awakens inside of you. Something almost primal. Before you can think further of it, or begin to second-guess yourself, you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, and pressed your lips to his in a searing kiss. Eyes closed, your knees now on the cushions, body leaning up, trying to get closer. Needing to get closer.
He seems taken aback; but the hesitation disappears just as quickly as it appeared. In another blur of motion - no doubt with the help of his supernatural abilities - you’ve switched places.
Now he is the one sitting on the couch, you in his lap, legs straddling his left thight. Your arms around his neck, his around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest.
His grip is possessive, his lips demanding. The kiss all teeth and tongue. Your hands quickly find their way up into his blonde curls, tugging desperately. You feel the growl in his chest, before you feel it on your lips.
His hands are on your hips, grinding your core down against his thigh. You gasp into the kiss, the jolt of arousal shooting through you, so powerful, one would think you’d been struck by lightning.
You’re no doubt soaked already, and the thin fabric of your pants are doing absolutely nothing to hide your slick from him. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed, too busy grinding down on him, as his hands guide you.
Needing air, you pull yourself from his lips. Panting, and your eyes still closed.
“You’re stunning, love..” Your eyes open at that, and the image that greets you almost takes your breath away.
Klaus is looking at you with unabashed affection and arousal, lips parted, and kiss-swollen, cheeks heated, pupils dilated. Slightly out of breath.
You feel your heartstrings tugging, and though you try to push it away, it stays in the back of your mind the whole time.
You’re blushing, you're sure of it. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re flushed from your chest, up your neck, and all the way to your ears. His eyes seem to drink it in.
Too embarrassed to have him looking at you like that for any longer, you dive back in for another kiss. This time with even more passion than the first time. Teeth nipping gently at his lower lip, fingers carting through his curls, tugging a little harder than before.
He seems to like this, judging from the growl emitting from deep within his chest. A growl that turns into a moan. It’s like music to your ears, and you feel yourself grinding down against his thigh with almost feverish movements. The rough fabric of his jeans, even through your own layer of clothes, rubbing deliciously against your core. He seems to like this, too.
His left hand leaves your hip, and instead starts trailing up your side. His touch feather-like, and so sensual, you feel your whole body shivering with anticipation. “So responsive..” he whispers against your lips, before trailing them down your jaw, and the front of your throat.
You crane your neck, instantly allowing him to continue. His grip on your now positively bruising.
“So needy,” his hand keeps trailing up your ribs, fingers nearing your breasts. You gasp, when he cups the plump flesh through your shirt. He hums in approval. Your nipples are already painfully hard, but they seem to peak even further, at his touch.
You’re practically rutting against him now, causing him to tut mockingly against your throat.
“Impatient, too.” He’s mocking you, and deriving immense pleasure from it.
With just the one hand on your hip, he stills your movement. Sometimes it’s easy to forget just how strong he is, what with his lean figure. But he is. Impossibly strong.
But instead of being scared, you feel your walls clenching. Your underwear no doubt soaked. For a short moment, you wonder if he can smell it; your arousal. But, you’re quickly distracted by Klaus, both hands now on your shirt, ripping the front in half, unceremoniously.
The cold air hits your nipples with such intensity that you instinctively buck forward, seeking his warmth. He stops you, tutting at you. Eyes gleaming with mischief and desire, as he’s now pulled away from your throat, instead looking at you with a wolf-like grin.
You shiver under his gaze, eyes freely roaming your newly exposed skin. “Beautiful..” he mumbles, mostly to himself, it seems. Before you can shy away, or cover your breasts, he’s pouncing. Lips wrapping around one nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, his hand twists the other, boarding on the side of painful, yet so delicious.
You moan, loudly, bucking into his touch. Hands going back to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. Pulling, tugging. His control seems to falter at that, and suddenly you feel his fangs grazing the sensitive skin around your nipple.
You gasp, and he pulls away, just a mere inches. Eyes so blown out with desire, the blue has almost disappeared. “Careful, love,” he whispers into your skin, as his lips begin kissing their way up the valley of your breasts. Both hands now massaging the plump flesh, fingers tugging at your nipples in between tender touches.
As his mouth makes its way to your throat, he begins nipping at the skin with blunt teeth, sucking small marks into your exposed flesh. He’s marking you, you realize. Marking you in places where everyone will be able to see, unless you deliberately cover them up.
It sends a thrill through your body, and a shiver down your spine. Fingers tightening their grip on his curls, needing to anchor yourself to him
“You like it, don’t you, love?” Pausing only to nip at your jaw. “Like it when I mark you like this.” You can do nothing but whimper, and nod your head weakly. That isn’t enough for him, and he twists your nipples so hard, the pain almost overtakes the pleasure. You quickly correct your mistake.
“Yes-” Your voice shakes as you finally answer his question, not able to form a coherent sentence, so you opt for a single word. He smiles against your skin, “Good girl.”
Oh god. You whimper again; a needy little, breathless thing. His smile grows against your jaw, as it travels to your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe, teasingly, “You like that too?” This time you immediately use your words.
“Y-yes..” even shakkier than before. He hums approvingly into your ear, kissing the sensitive skin just below, before pulling his face away, to look down at his work.
Your skin is flushed, your body visibly shaking with arousal. There’s small marks, bruises, everywhere; on your collarbones, your throat, trailing all the way up your neck. Your nipples raw and red from all the tugging and twisting. Klaus looks at you almost in awe, lips parted, before his eyes find yours. “Fuck, love..” he sounds absolutely wrecked already. Just as you feel. But, you need more. Need him.
Despite his earlier warning, your hips jerk forward, rutting your slick, throbbing core against his thigh, just once. His eyes immediately follow the movement, and for a split second, you can see his resolve crumbling, you can see him fighting himself. And it lights a fire inside of you.
Leaning in, you begin to kiss down his throat, hands trailing down the front of his shirt, feeling the taut muscles underneath the fabric. When your hands reach his pants, you suck your own little bruise into his skin, just beneath his jaw. You know it’ll disappear in an instant, but you just can’t help yourself.
Klaus grunts, a rough, needy sound, and you know you’re close. Close to breaking his resolve, and making him lose control.
Shaky hands find his skin, now under his shirt, touching him with the same amount of fever, as he just did you. Your lips now planting kisses on the small patch of skin made visible by the deep cut of his shirt.
He grunts again, one hand cradling the back of your head, seemingly determined to stay in control, in some capacity. His other hand on the small of your back. So close, you think to yourself.
Your hands trail their way back down his stomach, feeling his muscles tighten underneath her fingers, as they make their way down to his jeans. With deft fingers, you pop open the button, and then begin drawing down the zipper.
You look at him, meeting his eyes, lashes fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. “Go on, love..” his voice raw, eyes hooded as he looks at you, giving you his permission. In one smooth movement, you’ve left his thigh, your knees now on the rug, body settled neatly between his legs. Your hands begin tugging at his pants, and he lifts his body, aiding you, as you drag the fabric down to his ankles. Hooded eyes glued to your lips, as you lean in, pressing open mouthed kisses to his clothed cock. Your eyes flutter up to his face, just in time to see his head lull back, resting against the backrest of the couch. A deep, rough groan escaping his lips.
It instantly sends a surge of pride coursing through your body, seeing him react in such a way to you. Your resolve grows, as does your courage, and soon you have him completely bare from the waist down; pants and boxers now pooling at his ankles.
Delicate fingers wrap around his cock, your lips placing a chaste kiss to the head. He groans, and you wrap your lips around him, tongue swirling, collecting the drops of pre-cum already leaking from the slit. He tastes almost musky, and it only spurs you on further.
As your hand wraps around the base of his cock, you begin bobbing your head, mouth taking him further down your throat. He’s panting now, and you feel his hips stuttering slightly underneath you. He’s holding back, letting you set the pace. It makes your heart flutter.
Klaus Mikaelson, the most feared man on earth, is holding back himself, not wanting to hurt you. It’s enough to drive you over the edge, you yourself losing all you control.
You pull back, spitting into the palm of your hand, before wrapping it back around his cock, going up and down and round a few times, before your lips are back around the head, allowing his cock back into the warm, wetness of your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, bobbing your head, tongue twirling. His thighs straining underneath you.
As you move your mouth down his cock, you take him even farther down your throat than before, not stopping until the head hits the back of your throat, your nose nuzzled firmly against the hairs at the base.
You feel yourself choking around him, the corners of your eyes stinging, before you go back up for air, spit drooling down your jaw. Although, you barely get to inhale, before you’re back on his cock.
Suddenly, his hands are on the back of your head, cradling your neck, pulling your mouth back onto his cock, right back where it belongs. The head hits the back of your throat, fast, and his hands are now setting the pace; making you gag around his cock, drool spilling out the corners of your mouth, wetting the coarse hairs, trailing down his balls.
You all but moan around his cock, eyes fluttering shut, as you struggle to breathe through your nose, whilst he fucks your face. As you open your eyes, you look up, immediately finding him already looking down on you. Lips parted, panting, eyes black, and hooded.
“There you go, love. This is what you wanted, right?” His voice is rough, practically gravel, and his hands go from cradling your neck, to gathering your hair in a sloppy ponytail. You can’t nod, so you moan around his cock instead.
He growls, before pulling you off of him, and you gasp for air, trying to get as much of it as you possibly can. “Look at you,” his voice mocking, yet, filled with something else, too. Something close to affection. “So beautiful with your lips around my cock,”
While one hand holds onto the ponytail, keeping your head in place, the other goes to your face, his thumb trailing your swollen, spit-covered lips. Eyes lingering, as he parts them, sliding his thumb inside your mouth. Your tongue finds it immediately, twirling the digit, sucking almost obscenely. He seems to like that, giving you a small, approving grunt.
After a few seconds of you sucking his thumb, he removes his hand from your face, instead going down to tear the ripped fabric from your torse, tossing it somewhere behind you.
“Stand.” He commands, letting go of your hair, allowing you to rise from the floor, standing before him, still panting from having your throat used like that.
For a second, he just looks at you, drinking you in. Then he discards his own shirt, kicking off his pants and boxers, throwing it all the same way as your ruined top. He leans back; once more mimicking a king on his throne. His confidence, and his piercing blue eyes, staring at you with such unadulterated desire, it makes you shiver.
“Take off your pants, love.” Another command you immediately obey. Soon enough, you’re standing, dressed only in your underwear. Internally grateful that you’d picked out a cute, lacey pair, this morning. “Very pretty,” he notes, eyeing the fabric. “But ultimately in the way.”
He beckons you to come closer, and you do. Your shaking body lowering yourself onto his lap once more, this time with your thighs planted firmly on either side of his.
Your arms move to once more wrap themselves around his neck, but he stops you, instead moving them behind your back. Not until he’s satisfied you won’t move them, does he remove his hands around your wrists.
“Good girl.” Your breath hitches, and you feel your walls clenching around nothing, for the hundredth time. Your clit throbbing painfully, knowing his cock is so close to where you need it the most.
With one hand on your hip in a possessive grip, his other hand begins trailing down the front of your body, starting at your navel, before making its way closer, and closer to your core. Painfully slow.
You almost forget how to breathe, only remembering to do so, as his fingers finally find the front of your underwear.
He chuckles darkly, eyes on your face, a smug smile splaying on his plump lips. “Did sucking my cock make you this wet, love?” Words seemingly escaping you entirely, only able to nod weakly at his question.
His thumb starts rubbing deftly over your covered clit, and you try desperately to rut it, but his hand on your hip stops you. Klaus chuckles once more. “So needy and impatient,” he teases.
Before you can respond, he’s torn your underwear in half, and thrown it away. The cold air hits your slick, heat, and you gasp, the sensation almost overwhelming. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing the little nub so slowly, you think you might actually go insane.
“So wet for me..” he mumbles under his breath. You’re not sure if it's for you, or to himself, but either way, it makes your skin flush.
Then he’s running two fingers through your wet folds, lapping at your hole, and you moan so loudly, throwing your head back, you’re sure they can hear you all the way back in town.
“There we go, love..” he compliments, his voice so rough, it sends a shiver down your spine. He ducks his head, lips kissing up your exposed throat, fangs grazing the skin here and there, as he moves two fingers inside of you, thumb still playing with your clit.
The sound that escapes you is pathetic; something between a moan and a whimper, a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. It’s needy and raw and begging. Pure bliss.
Then he’s moving his fingers, slowly pumping them in and out of your hole, and you lose absolutely all semblance of control. He’s smiling against your skin, as you begin rutting against his thumb, practically fucking yourself on his fingers. And he lets you.
“Take what you need, love,” his voice tender, and filled with so much affection, you swear it makes your heart stop.
He sets up the pace of his fingers, adding a third finger inside of you, and when he finds that special spot inside of you, you can’t help but cry out his name. Almost like a prayer. That seems to only harden his resolve. His thumb begins moving more precisely against your bundle of nerves, and his fingers inside of you are beckoning you closer and closer to the edge.
The wet noises of your arousal soon fill up the room, and it’s all your ears can seem to focus on. That, and the way Klaus is panting against your neck. It’s all so- filthy. Your orgasm is close, and approaching fast. Faster than you thought possible.
“Look at me.” He commands. When you don’t obey immediately - too wrecked, and focused on chasing your relief - he takes matters into his own hands. Suddenly the grip on your hip is gone, his hand now wrapped around your throat. Possessive, but not too tight. That catches your attention.
Your eyes find his, lips parted, walls clenching around his fingers. The smirk on his lips so devious, you’d think he was the devil himself. Devious, and all sin.
His grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your airflow with precision. With his fingers pumping in and out of you with such speed, it can only be aided on by his supernatural powers, you slowly dissolve into sobs. Whimpering out a string of incoherent pleas and prayers. His name, the only coherent word.
And then you fall over the edge.
Your walls clench down on his fingers, your thighs clamping together around his hand, as you scream out his name, fire erupting from your core, and spreading through your veins. Pleasure coursing through you like a thousand little lighting bolts. Stars and fireworks behind your eyes. Your body taut and shaking, as your hips roll uncontrollably against his hand. You can still feel his thumb on your clit, rubbing gentle circles on the sensitive little bud. It’s almost too much.
Klaus is still pumping his fingers lazily inside of you, still hitting that spongy spot inside of you, from time to time, and you’re practically crying, now. Sobbing his name, as you come down from your never-ending-high.
All the while, he’s kissing your neck tenderly, whispering praise into your skin, telling you how beautiful you look, how he can’t get enough of you moaning his name.
You’ve somehow managed to keep your hands behind your back this whole time, just as he’d commanded. But in the haze of your intense pleasure, you have to anchor yourself, hands finding the nape of his neck once more, holding onto blonde curls like your life depends on it, as you ride out your mind blowing orgasm.
When he finally pulls his fingers out, you’re trembling, your face in the crook of his neck, panting damp patterns on his skin. Klaus kissing the top of your head, wet fingers tracing soothing patterns on the small of your back, while you try to calm down. “Breathe, love,” he whispers near your ear.
You take a few deep breaths, your body still trembling, as you finally pull back. You must look an absolute mess; mascara smudged, dried spit decorating both the corners of your mouth, and down your jaw. Your entire body flush, and slick with sweat.
His eyes tell a different story. For a split second, they flash yellow, tongue darting out to lick his lips, absentmindedly. He looks just about ready to devour you whole. The thought sends a new wave of arousal through your core, and before either of you can say anything, you’re crashing your lips against his, kissing him with renewed fever.
“Need you- please, Klaus, need you inside me,” is all you manage to say against his lips, your hips already rutting, ready for more.
He wastes no time, and in the blink of an eye, you're lying on the couch, back pressed into the soft cushions, as his hands find your thighs, pulling your knees to your chest, spreading you bare before him.
His eyes trails down, watching your slick folds, and how your hole clenches in anticipation. He all but howls at that. His eyes find yours, searching for any doubt, and you give him none.
Instead, you pull him down for another kiss. This time though, it’s gentle and tender and slow. Relaying to him, all those emotions, you can’t quite put into words. Feelings your heart won’t let you put into words just yet.
Klaus kisses you back, mirroring the slow, tender pace. Hands around your thighs softening. It seems he has things he can’t quite speak out loud, either.
When he pulls back, Klaus looks down at you with something you dare not name. You give him a nod, and that’s all he needs. Your legs stay bent, knees to your chest, as he wraps a hand around his cock, sliding it through your wet folds a few times, gathering your slick on his length. He’s outright moaning now, a low, guttural thing.
“Fuck,” his eyes focused on where the head of his cock is now pressing against your hole, probing. You moan, and his eyes fall back on your face. Capturing your gaze in his, and holding it there, as he continues to move his cock further and further inside of you; the stretch so delicious , you can’t help but clench around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip.
He hisses at that, and bottoms out inside of you, in one, fluid movement. You gasp, arms wrapping around his back, nails digging into his skin so hard, you’re sure to draw blood. “So good for me,” he praises.
Still holding your gaze, he draws back his hips, his cock leaving your wet walls almost entirely, before slamming back inside of you. You can’t help but throw your head back against the couch, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Moaning out his name, as he sets a slow, brutal and precise pace. The head of his cock finds that spongy spot inside of you, that makes you see stars, hitting it over, and over, and over again.
Klaus fucks you painfully slow, savoring every drag of his cock against your warm walls. Grunting and panting above you, until his head comes to rest against your forehead. Both of you are sticky with sweat, none of you cares.
All you care about right now, is the feeling of his cock inside of you; pulling sounds from your throat you thought yourself entirely incapable of. And all you can do is hold on for dear life.
Your fingers in his hair now, tugging, pulling. Panting and moaning against his lips, as you join in another searing kiss. His arms on either side of your head, caging you in, chest to chest. You can feel his heart beat against yours, feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin.
After fucking you like that for what feels like hours, kissing you lazily, Klaus pulls back, hands pressing into the couch on either side of your head, hooded eyes looking down on you, almost in awe.
“Look at you.. Taking my cock so well,” you flush at his words, that mocking tone back. You whimper, just as his cock hit that special spot inside of you for the hundredth time. The pleasure never diminishes, no matter how many times he finds it.
Something inside of him seems to snap, and before you can even understand what’s happening, he has you on your knees on the couch, ass up, face pressed into the couch. His cock never leaving you whilst re-positioning you.
His hands find your hips in a bruising grip, pulling your ass flush against his pelvis, his chest pressed against your back, as he whispers in your ear, “You feel so good around my cock, love. So tight and wet,” his kissing your shoulders now, and down your spine. “Could stay inside you like this forever,” you let out another pathetic whimper, trying to rut your hips back against him. He’s stopped moving; his thick cock filling you up, but staying still.
It’s making you want to cry.
“Please, Klaus,” you whimper into the couch, face angled, eyes trying to catch his.
“Please what, love?” He’s taunting you. You bite down on your lower lip, tears forming in the corner of your eyes; it does absolutely nothing, and his cock is still unmoving.
“Please move, Klaus. Please- please fuck me, please,” all your pride thrown out the window, completely and utterly forgotten.
Barely does the words leave your lips, before he grants you your wish.
Though this time, he’s not holding back. His pace neither gentle nor slow. Instead, it’s fast, and hard, and unforgiving. Pistoning his hips, cock hitting that sweet, gooey spot over, and over, balls slapping against your clit. Hands on your waits, pulling you back to meet his thrusts every single time.
By the time his hand snakes between your legs, and starts rubbing furiously on your clit, you’re a drooling, moaning mess. Your eyes in the back of your head, as he fucks you to your second orgasm of the night. Your whole body convulsing in pleasure, as the fire spreads through your veins.
“That’s it, love. Come on my cock, let me feel you,” and that’s all you need before you’re screaming his name yet again, tears streaming down your face.
He fucks you with such fever, hips rutting into the soft flesh of your ass, sure that bruises are forming there. You don’t care, in fact, you quite enjoy the thought of walking around with bruises on your ass, all because of Klaus.
His fingers never leaves your clit, not even when you’re begging, telling him it’s too much, instead, he pounds his cock deeper, harder, rubbing the overly sensitive little nub even faster. “Just one more, love. I know you can do it,” his hips stuttering, faltering, telling you he’s close, too. “For me,” his words send you over the edge once more.
Your third orgasm hits you so hard, so fast, you nearly pass out. Lips parted, in a silent scream. Klaus flips you over, wrapping your legs around his waist, nimble fingers rubbing on your clit with inhuman speed. Before you even realize it’s happening, you feel wetness gushing out of you, slicing his cock, and running down your thighs. Eyes in the back of your head the whole time.
“Fuck, love- that’s it, just let go..” his voise so tense, you’re sure he’s straining not to spill inside of you right this moment. Instead, fucking you through your orgasm. Hips stuttering, thrusts growing erratic. “So good, cuming around me. Listen to you,” his resolve seemingly crumbling by the second.
Through your haze, you manage to whimper out his undoing, “Want your cum inside of me,” that seems to send him over the edge.
With a crushing grip on your thighs, your feet dangling helplessly against his lower back, he pistons into you, unrelenting, thrusting into you with such fever, you can feel your eyes rolling right back into your head. Grunting and panting against your neck, before he stills, spilling his seed deep inside of you.
You can feel it, filling you up, before spilling out of you, trickling down your ass, and onto the couch. His thighs trembling, voice rough, as it moans in your ear. The sound sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps appearing anew all over your body.
Then he collapses on top of you, his weight anchoring you pleasantly to reality, feeling almost like you’re about to float out of your body, all bliss and pleasure. The aftershocks of your orgasms still making your body tremble.
You use the last of your strength, to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours, lips meeting in a lazy, warm kiss. Klaus returns it, nipping at your lower lip.
The two of you stay lying like that for a few minutes, his cock still inside of you, his seed too. Then he pulls out, pulling your body on top of his, as he lays his back against the couch, one hand on your ass, the other cradling the back of your head, placing gentle kisses to the top of your head, whilst you catch your breath, head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart.
You’re the first to break the comfortable silence, albeit keeping your head on his chest, eyes closed. “That was..” he finishes your sentence for you, “Amazing.” You nod your head, repeating his words, “Amazing.”
Klaus’ hands find your face, gently, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes so- soft, it makes your heart skip several beats. You stare right back, your own eyes just as tender, words lost somewhere in your throat. Instead, you lean up, his head meeting yours, as your lips find his in a quick, chaste kiss. Almost, shy. Experimental.
Something entirely different than any other kiss shared between the two of you.
“Stay the night?” Your voice barely a whisper, eyes finding his, when you pull back from the kiss. Wishing so he’ll agree.
Instead of answering you, he wraps his arms around your body, and suddenly, you find yourself no longer on the couch, now lying on your bed, wrapped in his embrace under the covers. His chin pressed against the top of your head, your face in his chest. You allow yourself a deep breath of his scent, his cologne. Of him. It makes you shiver, your eyes fluttering, as you snuggle closer. Your bones suddenly heavy, body melting into his. He’s warm and soft. Safe.
His lips find your hair, kissing you tenderly. “Sleep now, love. I’ll still be here tomorrow,” hesitating before he continues, “If you want me to be..” There’s something new in his voice, something your sleep-stricken brain can’t quite place. Vulnerability?
Before you doze off, you mumble into his chest, your hands tugged safely under your chin, “Never leave…”. Klaus smiling into your hair, ass he presses another kiss to the top of your head, so chaste, so gentle, as not to wake you up.
Synopsis: You never thought you would end a night of heavy clubbing in the hotel room of the global popstar Jeon Jungkook, but here you are! Warnings: 18+ mdni, nsfw, clit/ nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t), orgasms, overstimulation.
༉‧₊˚. most recent works: ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ , playlist: here!
⌗ please leave a like and/or reblog! <3
══════════════════════
The echoes of your laughter fills the empty hotel halls as you and Jungkook stumble into the elevator, now you might wonder how you got here? You have no clue. What you planned as a girls night going out with your friends, you stumbled upon him and let’s just say the drinks got to the both of you..
‘What number is your room?’ You ask as he presses the elevator buttons.
‘197 we only have to go up 2 floors’ he answers as he grabs your wrist to pull you into a hungry kiss, you whimper into the kiss already turned on from the grinding at the club. ‘We’re really drunk aren’t we?’ He asks as he smiles against the kiss. ‘Mhm I fear so’ you joke as you hear the ping of the elevator signing that you’ve arrived at the right floor. You both stumble out of the elevator rushing to his room. As you enter his room he immediately pushes you against the wall and captures your lips in a deep kiss, your hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt wanting to take it off. He pulls it off in one swift motion revealing his toned abs, you run your hands over them enjoying the way his muscles twitch under your touch.
You follow as you pull of your tank top revealing your lacy bra, he unhooks it in one swift motion revealing your already hardened perky nippels, he takes your left boob into his hand kneading your flesh, causing you to moan into his touch arching your back at the stimulation.
His mouth finds your right nipple circling your areola as he laps his whole mouth around your sensitive bud sucking on it softly.
Your hands find his hair as you moan his name softly, your eyes rolling back from the dual pleasure.
‘Bedroom’ you whisper as he tilts you up bridal stile and carries you over to his bed, putting you down with a soft thud he immediately hovers over you sucking a hickey right below your pulse point causing you to arch your wet core into his already hardened bulge in his jeans.
He slips off your skirt and panties in one swift motion, the cool air brushing against your aroused pussy sending shivers down your spine as he unbuckles his jeans. When he finally unbuckles his belt he pulls off his boxers, his thick cock immediately springing free already leaking precum.
He kisses you as he runs a finger through your folds, groaning into the kiss as he feels your wetness coating his fingers.
‘Damn already so wet for me? Just from all that grinding?’ He asks as a grin spreads across his face, your already so aroused you only manage a weak whimper to pass your lips as your hips buck up to meet his fingers craving any friction.
‘Use your words darling’ he says as he pulls away his fingers leaving you completely helpless underneath him.
‘y-yes’ you mumble as you pout at him.
‘Mhm good girl, I think you deserve your reward now don’t you think so? Hm?’ He asks as he runs his hand up your hips kneading your flesh.
‘Uhuh’ you manage to answer as you spread your legs slightly giving him access.
He positions his leaking cock at your entrance as he slides his tip through your folds collecting your arousal to use it as lube, your hole already needy and clenching around nothing.
As he slowly pushes his pink tip in you loudly moan his name, which quickly got muffled by his thumb, stuffing it deep in your throat causing you to gag. You relax your throat and eagerly suck on his thumb as he fully pushes his length in. Burning at first since he didn’t properly stretch you, but it quickly tuned into a delicious feeling as he rolls his hips into you. Hitting your cervix causing you too helplessly whimper his name. He presses soft kisses all over your jaw and neck, whispering soft praises into your ear.
‘Fuck you’re so tight’ he groans as speeds up the pace, almost pulling out completely and then fully sliding back in. While he continues to pound into you his hand finds your right boob, he rolls your nipple between his fingers making you arch into his touch, deepening the angle. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel yourself getting close to your orgasm.
‘Kook.. im gonna cum’ you whimper as you clench your walls around him, his hand leaves your breasts leaving you slightly disappointed, but the heavy stimulation on your clit immediately made up for it. He circled your sensitive bud in quick motions as you came all over his cock, vision turning black as your body went limp. His own orgasm following soon after, he spilled his sticky load into you filling you up to the brim. Groaning your name as he hides his face in the crook of your sweaty neck.
As you both come down from your highs he rolls onto his side pulling you close to him. You lay on his chest while you steady your breathing, your finger tracing his tattoos on his right arm.
The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, you melt into his touch as your eyelids get heavy. He wraps his arms around you in an instant smelling the faint sent of coconut in your wavy hair.
You fall asleep to the comfortable silence as he rubs soothing circles along your back, his complete focus on you.
He also drifts off to sleep right after he hears the way your breath steadied, closing his eyes and pressing a soft kiss to your temple whispering one last thing:
‘I think I’m falling in love with you, although I don’t even know you yet..’
══════════════════════
ʚଓ author’s note : Hii everyonee! Hope yall enjoyed reading, cuz I was struggling writing this.. lol. This will sadly be the last fic im feeding yall with for 1-2 weeks since I have finals week but dw cause I have loadssss of ideas! Okay I’m gonna stop yapping now!
ʚଓ important note : please do not copy my work or post on other platforms without consent! + please do also not spam interact on my posts, I appreciate all your support but it will sadly shadow ban me, so I’ll have to block you if that happens :/.
summary: The county fair is all fun and cotton candy, until a few men mistake your wedding ring for decoration. Lucky for you, your cowboy husband doesn’t take kindly to competition, and he’s more than willing to remind you just how loved you are.
pairing: cowboy!clark x reader
tags: 18+, cowboy clark, wife reader, porn with plot (explicit, fingering, penetration, public-ish setting, sexual activity in a vehicle), jealousy and possessiveness, jealous clark, harassment / unwanted flirting from strangers, lots of aftercare (bathing, cleaning), gentle clark (of course)
w.c.: 2k (this is kinda long ik lol)
more cowboy!clark fics here
The county fair had always been your thing. Neon lights, the dust kicked up by passing boots, the faint hum of generators powering rides that probably should’ve been inspected twice. But this year felt sweeter, maybe because Clark’s hand was warm in yours, his thumb brushing over your wedding ring every few steps like he couldn’t help reminding himself it was there.
Your cowboy was a sight: worn denim hugging his hips, sun-bleached flannel rolled to his elbows, hat tilted just right to shade those baby-blue eyes. And every time he smiled at you, that soft, lopsided grin he only ever gave his wife, your chest fluttered like a loose Ferris wheel bolt.
The sun dipped lower, bleeding gold into the fairgrounds as the temperature slipped with it. A cool breeze rolled across the open field, brushing goosebumps up your arms. Clark noticed instantly, of course, he did. He always noticed you first. “You cold, sweetheart?” he asked softly, thumb pausing where it circled your ring.
“A little,” you admitted.
Without missing a beat, he squeezed your hand. “Stay right here. I’ll run to the truck and grab my jacket for ya.”
You nodded, watching the confident, easy stroll of his retreating back: broad shoulders, steady gait, that little hitch of his thumbs hooking into his belt as he walked. He looked unfairly good from every angle.
While you waited, you wandered toward the cotton candy stand, breathing in the sugary air. Pink spun sugar glowed under the warm bulbs like it existed just to be eaten under fair lights. You were debating between pink and blue when a voice cut in behind you. “Well, hey there, darlin’. You here all by yourself?”
You turned to find two men, locals, probably, mid-twenties, leaning in a little too close. The first one gave you a grin that tried a little too hard, and the second let his eyes travel lower than they should have. Your wedding ring glinted under the lights, but neither bothered to look.
“No,” you said politely, stepping back. “My husband’s—”
“Ah, c’mon,” the first guy drawled, “no harm in talkin’ a bit. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be waitin’ alone in the cold.”
You barely had time to exhale before a familiar warmth slid in behind you. Clark.
His presence folded around you like a shield, quiet, tall, immovable. He stepped just slightly in front of you, not shoving, not rude, just… blocking their view. His jaw clenched tight beneath light stubble, and his hand found the small of your back with a quiet, unmistakable claim.
“Evenin’,” Clark said, voice low and calm but carrying that unmistakable edge that meant he was seconds from breaking a fence post in half.
The men stiffened. “We were just talkin’ to her,” one muttered.
Clark’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “She wasn’t lookin’ for company.”
You felt him tuck you closer, fingers pressing between your shoulder blades. You swore you felt his breath warm against your temple as he added, softer, only for you: “Got worried when I didn’t see ya.”
That alone almost made your knees buckle.
The guys mumbled something and drifted off when they realized they were outmatched, not just physically, but in the way Clark’s entire soul tilted toward you. When they were out of sight, Clark draped his jacket over your shoulders, pulling it snug around you like he was wrapping you in part of himself. It was warm, smelled like cedar and sun-worn cotton, and the second you slipped your arms into the sleeves, Clark kissed your temple.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“Yes,” you whispered. “Are you?”
He huffed a small laugh. “Tryin’ real hard not to throw ’em into the corn maze.”
You rose onto your toes and kissed the edge of his jaw. “My big, jealous cowboy.” He tugs you close until your chest presses against his. “Always.”
He bought you cotton candy, pink, and fed you pieces off his fingers, each one stolen with a teasing brush of his lips, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth every time you giggled. His arm stayed around your waist the rest of the night, hand slipping into his jacket pocket with yours inside it, keeping you warm.
By the time you made it back to the truck, the fair glowing behind you like a cluster of dying embers, Clark opened your door, helped you inside, and leaned in close, close enough that his hat brim brushed your forehead. “You know,” he murmured, voice dropping to a low rasp, “watchin’ other men look at you like that… might’ve made me a little crazy.”
Your breath hitched. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” His lips grazed your cheek, slow and hungry. “Gonna have to work it off, sweetheart.”
He shut your door, circled around, and climbed in. The second his door clicked shut, he reached over, tugged you into a bruising kiss, then pulled back just far enough to growl, “Seatbelt, darlin’. Then hike that pretty dress up for me.”
You obeyed, trembling, bunching the fabric to your hips and spreading your thighs. Clark started the truck one-handed; the other slid straight between your legs, pushing your soaked panties aside and sinking two thick fingers deep inside you without warning. The engine rumbled to life the same second you cried out his name.
He kept his eyes on the dark country road, jaw tight, but his fingers moved slowly and relentless, curling just right, thumb circling your clit in steady, maddening strokes. Every bump in the gravel sent those fingers deeper; every curve in the road made his palm grind against you.
“Clark—” you whimpered, head falling back against the seat, hips chasing his hand.
“Shh, baby,” he rasped, voice rough with restraint. “Twenty minutes home. You’re gonna come on my fingers every single mile, Understand?”
You could only nod, breathless, as he added a third finger and fucked you slow and deep the entire drive, drawing three shaking, sobbing orgasms out of you before the porch light of your farmhouse finally came into view. The second he rolled to a stop in the driveway, engine still ticking, he killed the lights, yanked the seat lever, and reclined all the way back. “Come here, Mrs. Kent.”
You scrambled over the console, straddling him in one frantic move. He shoved his jeans down just enough, lined himself up, and pulled you down onto his dick in one smooth, possessive thrust. You both groaned, loud and broken, at how perfectly he filled you.
The windows were already fogged from your earlier panting. Moonlight spilled through the windshield, painting silver across his cheekbones as he gripped your hips and guided you to ride him exactly how he liked, slow, deep rolls that dragged every inch of him against your walls.
“Love you,” he whispered against your lips, reverent, desperate. “I love you so damn much it hurts.”
You kissed him through the words, moving faster, chasing that edge together. His hands slid up under your dress, palms spread wide over your back like he needed to feel every inch of skin he could reach.
When you came, it was with his name on your tongue and tears in your eyes; when he followed, he buried his face in your neck and pulsed deep inside you, holding you so tight you could feel his heartbeat against your own.
After, he didn’t let you go far, just tucked you against his chest, fingers stroking lazily against your back while the crickets sang outside.
“Think the neighbors heard?” you mumbled, sleepy and sated.
Clark chuckled, low and warm, pressing a kiss to your temple. “If they did, good. Let the whole county know my wife’s cherished.”
He carried you inside a few minutes later, still unwilling to separate even for the length of the porch steps, because some nights, Clark Kent simply couldn’t stand an inch of space between him and the woman he’d sworn his forever to.
Inside, the house was dim and quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the kitchen night-light and the moon through the windows. Clark nudged the door shut with his boot, still holding you close, his hands warm beneath your thighs. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way he was still breathing a little harder than usual, that post-pleasure looseness in every slow step he took.
He carried you straight to the bedroom, brushing a kiss to your hairline. “Just sit tight, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Gonna get you cleaned up.”
He set you gently on the edge of the bed, hands sliding down your hips like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t keep touching you. Your dress was wrinkled, straps fallen, hair mussed beyond repair, but he looked at you like you were the prettiest thing the fair had offered all night.
The bath faucet turned on with a low, steady rush. Steam filled the room, the scent of the lavender bath soak you loved curling up in warm tendrils. Clark tested the temperature with his wrist, because of course he did, then added more hot water until it was perfect.
He slipped off your shoes for you, placing them neatly by the dresser, because even after fucking you senseless in the truck, Clark Kent was still Clark Kent. He eased your dress off next, careful not to snag the zipper.
Clark kissed your forehead, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth, slow, lingering, sweet. “There she is,” he murmured. “My girl.”
When the tub was full, he returned to you, lifting you with easy, careful hands. He stepped in first, settling into the warm water, then pulled you in with him, guiding your back against his chest like he wanted you as close as physically possible. His thighs bracketed yours, his arms slipping around your waist under the water.
You felt him exhale against your shoulder, breath warm on your damp skin. “There we go,” he whispered, kissing right where your neck met your collarbone. “Just relax for me.”
The water soothed your trembling muscles instantly. Clark reached for a soft cloth, soaked it, and dragged it gently over your thigh, up your hip, along your stomach. Slow, tender strokes. No rush. No pressure. Just the kind of care that made your eyes sting.
“You hurtin’ anywhere?” he asked softly, that same gentle drawl he only used after nights like this.
You shook your head. “Just… floaty.”
His arms tightened around you. “Good. Means I did somethin’ right.”
He washed you with reverence, wiping along your arms, your shoulders, your neck. Every so often, he pressed a little kiss to your temple or cheek, as if he couldn’t help himself.
“You did so good tonight,” he murmured against your jaw, voice low and soothing. “So damn good for me.”
Eventually, he stood and helped you out, wrapping you immediately in a fluffy towel, then carrying you to the bedroom with your legs dangling and your face tucked into his throat. He set you on the edge of the bed and helped you into one of his soft, worn T-shirts. It hung halfway down your thighs, smelling like laundry soap, hay, and him, then tucked you in.
He slipped under the blankets with you, pulling you into his chest. Your head rested over his heartbeat, his hand stroking slow, lazy lines down your back. “Still mad about those guys?” you asked, voice thick with sleep.
“No,” he murmured into your hair. “Not mad. Just… reminded I’m real lucky.” His thumb rubbed small circles over your spine. “Lucky you chose me. Lucky I get to bring you home. Lucky I get to hold you after.”
Your throat tightened. “Clark…”
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
His whole body seemed to melt around you. “I love you more,” he whispered. “More’n any cowboy’s got words for.”
He kissed the top of your head, tucked the blankets around you both, and held you close, so close you felt his warmth seep into your bones. Outside, the fair sounds faded into the distance. Inside, the only thing that existed was Clark’s arms around you, the hush of his breath, and the steady rhythm of two heartbeats pressed together.
.ᐟ RE2 leon kennedy ── NSFW ; needy boyfriend ; fem reader ; sub leon ; office sex
what RE2 leon lacks in experience he makes up for with enthusiasm.
he gets hard sooo easily. especially when he's around you.
you could breathe in the wrong direction and his pretty dick will be already making a tent in his pants. the tip shamelessly dripping in his boxers. making a mess all over himself.
and it'll be at the most inconvenient times too—
you'll be at work, your coworkers surrounding you on all sides, and leon will still be whining in your ear.
“please— please. can you help me? just this time baby, it hurts so bad.”
you never say no. how could you, when he begs like that?
so sweet. so needy. his puppy eyes so full of hope and want.
“just this time.” you'll say, knowing full well there's going to be a thousand more.
because of it, there's no corner of the police station that hasn't been perverted by you two.
the bathrooms. the cleaning closet. the stairs. even the chief's office one time.
his favorite, though— his favorite place to fuck you is his own desk.
that way he can prop you up on the table and watch his cock disappear between your silky folds. again and again. until the mixture of your cum drips on the surface and leaves a souvenir for the next time he misses you.
but he doesn't even need that, does he? with you, anything will work.
“we don't have a condom,” you remind him one day, his mouth pressed against your neck while your butt sits on the day's reports.
leon just blinks in confusion, zipper already half open. “‘s okay. i don't need to be inside.”
then, he pulls down your pants, fingers immediately reaching down to spread the wetness on your panties. as if they were iron and magnet. two parts built to be together. pussy shaped just for his length alone. "i just need this right here.”
and enthusiasm? enthusiasm can take you a long way.
leon lifts your panties a few inches, just enough to stick his cock inside. and he thrust.
the second he feels your heat against his needy length, the most pornographic moan spills from his lips.
“fuckfuck— i needed this. love your pussy so much.”
he shoves his hips hard, almost as if he can't help himself once he has you this close. does it twice, maybe three times more.
the desk creaks under his frantic movements.
“ah— leon, slow—slow down,” you moan, feeling how with each thrust his tip rubs against your clit juuuust right. "you're gonna break your desk—"
“don't care,” he shakes his head, adjusting your panties hard to create more friction. “god— ´s so wet, baby. can even see my cock inside— hngh”
"wanna get them wetter, then?” you ask, knowing at this rate you won’t last much longer. your hole is throbbing. begging for release. for him, him, him. “make them all dirty with your cum, sweetheart?”
"yes, yes—"
it's the pet name that does it for him. he thrusts and thrusts and then—
you watch how his cock just bursts inside your panties, his cream staining the fabric as if it were a work of art. it's beautiful. it's too much. he's panting in your ears like a puppy in heat, moving his hips in jerky movements, his tip oozing weakly inside.
he's making you feel—oh so good.
how can you not follow him then, when this image is such a cute one? your boyfriend's so needy, so pathetic. just for you.
and you love him that way.
when you cum, it's messy, adding your release to the mixture of juices staining your underwear. leon just shivers, kissing you as if your cunt were the best thing in the fucking world.
and for him, perhaps it is.
who needs an expert when you can have him like this, creaming himself whenever the hell you want?
