frat!gojo loves inviting pretty lil’ virgins to his dorm room៸៸ ✦
cw; mdni. virgin!reader, fingering, p in v, creampie, un established relationship, praise, wc 1.1k
truthfully, satoru liked the quiet girls. doe-eyed and timid, as innocent as they come.
why?
the answer is simple. he adores the way they squirm from the slightest touch, how he has them purring like a kitten in seconds — how fucking perfect they looked whilst he ruined them with his dick.
he’d had his eye on you for weeks now. observing how you attended all your lectures, spending your free time studying in the library, fuck — such a good girl.
he couldn’t wait to ruffle those perfect feathers of yours.
and that’s how it started.
some casual texting at first, a few late night phone calls, nothing dirty, just enough to get you hooked on him.
and now?
you were in his dorm room, sat next to him nervously as you watched some action movie neither of you really cared about.
you could feel his eyes on you, the atmosphere filled with anticipation, your body stiff with nerves.
“you good? y’seem a little… tense” he purrs, placing his hand just above your knee. that alone made your breath hitch, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
“no need to be nervous, pretty. we’re just watching a movie, yeah?” satoru adds, moving his hand just a littttleee higher, thumb brushing over your soft skin.
you nod gingerly, your stomach swarming with butterflies. you press your legs together slightly for some release, desperately trying to surpress the growing ache between your legs.
and of course, he notices.
a cocky grin appears on satoru’s face, body shifting closer to yours. his voice drops to a low purr, “do you like it when I touch you here?”
you attempt to steady your breathing, mustering up the courage to respond. “y-yes-” you whisper, feeling his breath only an inch from your neck.
“and what about… here?” satoru continues, his hand now resting on your upper thigh, below your skirt, dangerously close to uncharted territory (for you, at least).
before you could reply, he presses a feather-light kiss to the side of your neck, coaxing a soft whimper out of you.
he was so fucking hard, that sound was music to his ears, so needy already.
“feels good, doesn’t it baby,” he whispers, pressing another couple of kisses to your neck, your body beginning to slowly relax under his touch.
he coaxes your legs apart gently, careful to make no sudden moves. he brushes his finger along your panty line, another sweet whimper slipping past your lips.
then, he kisses your neck a little firmer, tongue brushing over your skin as you tilt your head back to grant him more access.
you were unravelling for him so quickly. slowly but surely, he pushes your panties aside, gently propping your leg over his. he swipes his middle finger over your folds, gathering your slick. he hums in satisfaction, “fuck, so wet already.”
“m’sorry,” you whisper delicately, your clit aching for his touch. “don’t be sorry, it’s hot” he smirks, using his other hand to turn your face to his.
he leans in unhurriedly, pressing a kiss to your lips. simultaneously, he brushes his thumb over your clit, making you sigh in relief against his mouth. satoru drinks down your soft moans and whimpers like they were the finest wine, beginning to rub slow circles around your swollen nub.
“goooodd girl, doing so well” he coos, your moans becoming more frequent, chest rising and falling rapidly. “poor thing,” he teases with fake sympathy, “no one’s ever touched you like this before, have they.”
you shake your head, too focused on the pleasure he was giving you, his lips back against yours and-
his finger slowly makes its way inside of you.
the dual stimulation had your hips bucking desperately against his hand, your cheeks flushed pink. “mnnn — satoru-” you moan, sweet sounds muffled by his mouth, his tongue slipping past your lips.
you accept his tongue into your mouth keenly, your mouths finding a steady rhythm.
satoru slips another finger into your sopping hole, curling them upwards to massage that one spot that instantly has you seeing stars. he pulls away momentarily to watch your sweet reactions, your brows knitting together as that familiar tension forms within you.
“so close, almost there now baby.” he rubs your clit a little faster with his thumb, lithe fingers doing the majority of the work.
his sweet encouragement pushes you over the edge, you cream on his fingers, hand gripping his shirt desperately for stability. “thereeee you go, fuck — gripping my fingers so tight.”
when you’re through it, he withdraws his fingers. you whine at the loss of contact, watching satoru bring his fingers to his mouth.
your eyes widen at the filthy sight. satoru sucks his fingers clean, tasting your sweet release. “mm, god- you taste good” he hums.
you knew one thing for sure, you needed more.
you wouldn’t have thought in a million years you’d be losing your virginity to satoru gojo of all people.
and yet, there he was, kissing you deeply as he looms over you, one hand up your shirt, toying with your sensitive nipples — the other gripping your hip possessively as you squirmed beneath him, panties long forgotten on the floor.
your tongues dance, finding that same rhythm, legs wrapped around his waist, hard cock pressed against your core.
you’d never felt need like this in your entire life, instinctively grinding your dripping pussy against his clothed cock.
“look at you, fuck — grinding that pretty lil’ pussy against my dick,” he groans against your lips, pressing himself against you harder, more needy whimpers escaping you.
the fabric of his sweatpants felt heavenly against your aching clit, your slick creating a damp patch on them as you continue to grind against him, “mph — need more” you whine.
satoru pauses for a second before kissing you slowly again, beautiful blue eyes locking onto yours.
“want me t’fuck you, huh? take your virginity?” he teases, using one hand to tug down his sweatpants, freeing his thick, throbbing cock.
he grinds it against your clit and in between your puffy folds, the sensation making you moan sweetly against his mouth, your slick quickly coating his dick.
“satoruuu — please, need you” you mumble, eyes closed, head thrown back against the thin pillows on his dorm room bed.
“i know baby, gonna give it to you, yeah?” he says, voice low and honeyed. with one final kiss, he leans back, spreading your legs wider, one hand pumping his cock as he stares down at you, your eyes widening at the sight.
you thought your nerves were long gone, yet the sight of his impressive length almost had you running for the hills.
sensing this, he gently takes your hand, encouraging you to wrap it around his cock — “we’ll take it slow, just feel me first, that’s it’s pretty girl.”
you begin to pump his cock experimentally with your hand, sticky pre smearing all over your fingers. “like this?” you ask quietly, moving your hand slowly from base to tip.
“just like that, now try it a little faster,” he encourages, sighing in relief at the much needed friction. you work him a tad faster, unable to tear your eyes away from the lewd sight, the sounds of his heavy, sticky cock squelching against your hand.
he leans in again in the meantime, hiking your shirt up and pressing his mouth to your nipples, skilled tongue swirling around them before sucking them into his mouth one at a time.
you let go of his cock, arching your back towards him, breathy moans escaping you as he releases your nipple with a wet pop — tip pressing against your tight entrance. “ready, baby?” he whispers, pupils dilated, eyes filled with lust.
nodding feverishly, you allow him to push his tip in slowly, gripping his meaty biceps for stability. he studies your expressions, letting you feel his tip, allowing your body to adjust.
the sudden intrusion was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the initial stretch being the worst part — “thaaats it, good girl” he praises.
“nghmmm — how much is in?” you whimper, looking up at him with big, glassy eyes.
satoru chuckles softly, rubbing your thighs reassuringly, “just the tip baby.”
you exhale, giving him the go ahead to push in further, a few more inches disappearing inside your tight pussy. you whimper again, a mix between pain and pleasure, satoru’s jaw clenching at how damn tight you were gripping him.
“shit — squeezing me so tight” he grunts, taking his thumb and circling it around your swollen clit, encouraging your body to relax further. “doing so well,” he praises, now halfway in, continuing to soothe your clit with his thumb. “just breathe, baby.”
once you’d adjusted, you nod again, silently encouraging him to push the last few inches in. the discomfort slowly turned into pleasure, your mouth hung wide open at the overwhelming feeling.
he was so deep, a visible bulge in your lower stomach as he began to move slowly and carefully — letting you feel every thick inch.
“o-oh my god — aahnnn,” you moan, satoru’s thumb still circling your little nub as he thrusts into you. this was his favourite part, a once sweet, innocent girl becoming wrecked by his dick, awakening something inside of her she never knew existed.
“it feels s’good” you moan, fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his biceps, “feel so full.” you move your hips into him a little, encouraging him to move a tad faster — more than ready, hungry for more.
“you feel so good baby — fuck" he grunts, picking up the pace, just enough for you to handle.
satoru leans in again, kissing you deeply as he sets a standard pace, thrusting into you with only three quarters of his length, mindful he doesn’t cause any discomfort. you lock your legs around him, your mouths swallowing one another’s desperate moans.
his cock hits all the right spots inside of you; your pussy squeezing him like it never wants to let go. “ah — shit, baby. not gonna last long if you do that" he rasps, his usual infuriatingly calm demeanour beginning to fade.
your moans become frequent, spilling out of you, impossible to surpress. a familiar sensation begins to build, cunt clamping down on his dick.
“that’s it, fuck — cream on my cock princess, give it to me, you can do it” satoru encourages, picking up the pace jussttt a little more to push you over the edge.
“satoru!!” you cry out, holding him close, panting against his ear as you release on his cock, making a mess of his sheets and your inner thighs; orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks.
he fucks you through it, whispering sweet praise into your ear, leaky tip nestled deep inside of you as he grew closer himself. “a-are you gonna finish inside?” you question, breath still shaky and uneven.
“if you — hah —want me to,” he groans, the thought of spilling his hot cum inside you driving him fucking insane.
“please, you can,” you beg, feeling his cock pulse at your confirmation, satoru’s teeth gritting together as he felt himself come undone.
“shit — gonna cum,” he rasps, thrusts becoming short and shallow, face buried in your neck as he releases his hot load into you.
you gasp quietly, feeling him fill you to the brim, pace slowing as he pumps every last drop into you. “fuck,” he groans, rocking into you and pushing his load deeper.
eventually,, he pulls out, watching his cum trickle out of your no longer virgin hole.
the emptiness after he pulls out was overwhelming, no longer filled by him, no longer the same woman you were twenty minutes ago.
satoru collapses next to you, running his fingers through his dishevelled white hair- “y’okay?” he asks, for the first time in a long time, not immediately ready for the girl laying beside him to gather her shit and leave.
you turn to face him, a faint smile appearing on your face.
“yeah… i’m okay.”
a/n; repost! merged this into one part as well so it’s a little longer (:
Blurb: Beau wants your first time to feel special, even if that means fresh sheets, your favorite candle, and a suspiciously well-planned Spotify playlist.
You knew Beau had cleaned before you even stepped through his bedroom door.
The hallway outside looked exactly as it always did, a pair of sneakers abandoned near the wall and somebody’s sweatshirt draped over the banister downstairs, but his room was suspiciously untouched. The floor had been cleared, the clothes that usually collected across the chair were gone, and the comforter lay smooth over freshly changed sheets.
Then the scent reached you.
You stopped just inside the doorway, recognizing it before you found the candle flickering on his dresser. It was the same Bath & Body Works scent you stopped to smell whenever you wandered into the store, the one Beau had once claimed was indistinguishable from every other sweet candle lining the shelves.
He nearly walked into your back before realizing you had stopped.
“You bought my candle.”
Beau followed your gaze toward the three burning wicks. He had positioned the jar in the center of the dresser, the label facing outward, which made his attempt at looking indifferent considerably less convincing.
“You made me smell it every time we passed that store,” he said, moving around you to place his phone beside the speaker. “At some point, remembering became a survival instinct.”
You stepped farther into the room and lifted the candle, warmth gathering beneath the glass. The price sticker had been scraped from the bottom badly enough that part of it remained attached.
The thought of Beau standing inside Bath & Body Works, surrounded by walls of perfume and lotion while trying to remember the name of your favorite scent, made something tender settle beneath your ribs.
“You went in there alone?”
His attention became absorbed in adjusting the volume of the music. “I’m not discussing what happened in that store.”
A soft song drifted from the speaker, one you had sent him months ago after discovering it during a late-night study session. You set the candle down and glanced toward his phone. Spotify remained open, displaying a playlist titled just music in lowercase letters.
You picked it up before Beau could stop you.
His hand reached toward yours, but one look at your face made him reconsider whatever wrestling match he had been about to begin.
The playlist was nearly two hours long. There were songs you loved, slower ones you had heard playing from his car, and a few romantic tracks that you never would have guessed Beau knew existed. The order was too deliberate to be accidental. Each song flowed naturally into the next, the tempo shifting so gradually that he must have listened through the entire thing while arranging it.
“You planned transitions.”
Beau rubbed the back of his neck, already turning pink near the collar of his shirt. “I didn’t want some awful locker room song coming on and ruining everything.”
A laugh caught in your throat. “Beau, you made a sex playlist.”
“I made a playlist for tonight.”
The distinction seemed important to him, though you suspected it existed mostly because he could not bring himself to name a playlist after the reason you were in his bedroom.
You looked around again. Fresh sheets. Your favorite candle. Two bottles of water waiting on the nightstand. Even the lamp had been dimmed low enough to soften the room without leaving you in darkness.
All afternoon, you had been imagining Beau completely at ease while you struggled not to overthink every part of the night. It had never occurred to you that he might spend hours cleaning his room and rearranging songs because he was nervous too.
The realization loosened something inside you.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
His expression changed when he looked at you. The embarrassment remained, but something more earnest moved beneath it.
“I know.” Beau took the phone from your hand and set it down without turning off the music. “I wanted to.”
He said it simply, without turning the moment into something so serious that you would lose your nerve. That was one of the things you loved most about him. Beau could make something matter without making it feel heavy.
You moved toward him, slipping your hands beneath his open jacket. “The candle is a lot.”
“It was the biggest one they had.”
Your smile brushed his mouth before you kissed him.
Beau’s hands settled on your hips, drawing you closer until the front of your body met his. The kiss began softly, familiar enough to quiet the nervous flutter in your stomach. You knew the shape of his mouth and the warmth of his hands. You knew the small sound he made when you caught his bottom lip between yours and the way his fingers tightened whenever you pressed against him.
There was nothing unfamiliar about wanting him.
It was everything that came next that had occupied your thoughts since you told him you were ready.
Beau seemed to sense the moment your mind began racing. He pulled back only far enough to look at you, one hand rising to smooth your hair away from your face.
“You’re thinking too much.”
“I haven’t even said anything.”
“You get this little crease right here.” His thumb passed between your eyebrows, flattening the expression he had apparently learned to recognize. “It’s like your brain is trying to go into overtime.”
You laughed, lowering your forehead against his chest. “I’m nervous.”
“I know.”
He did not tell you there was no reason to be. There were reasons, even if none of them meant you had changed your mind. You had spent years hearing that your first time would be painful or awkward or disappointing. People spoke about virginity as something to lose, something another person took from you, and no matter how much you trusted Beau, part of you had started treating tonight like a test you had forgotten to study for.
His hand moved slowly along your back.
“We can keep kissing,” he said. “We can watch a movie and let the world’s most embarrassing playlist run in the background. You didn’t sign a contract when you came over.”
The offer did not come with disappointment hidden beneath it. Beau would genuinely let you change your mind, blow out the candle, and spend the rest of the evening arguing over what to watch.
That certainty was exactly why you had chosen tonight.
You lifted your head and kissed him again.
This time, you let your hands wander beneath his shirt. The muscles of his stomach tightened under your fingertips, and Beau exhaled against your mouth before helping you pull the fabric over his head. He tossed it somewhere behind him, apparently deciding that his clean floor no longer mattered.
Your jacket followed, then your shoes. Each piece of clothing made the room feel warmer, though you knew some of that heat came from the way Beau looked at you.
He had seen you in your underwear before. You had spent enough nights tangled together for him to know how your body reacted beneath his hands, but tonight made every touch feel newly charged. When he reached for the hem of your sweater, he paused long enough for you to lift your arms.
The fabric disappeared over your head.
Beau’s gaze moved over you without rushing, lingering where the cups of your bra held your breasts. There was no exaggerated praise or dramatic speech. His hand simply settled against your waist while he kissed the curve of your shoulder, and the warmth of his mouth told you everything he had not said.
You reached behind yourself to unfasten your bra, but Beau caught your wrist.
“Let me.”
The clasp opened beneath his fingers. He eased the straps down your arms, watching the fabric fall before bringing both hands to your breasts. His palms were warm, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they tightened beneath his touch.
Your breath caught when his mouth closed around one.
Beau backed you toward the bed without lifting his head, his arm circling your waist when the backs of your knees met the mattress. You sat down, and he followed, settling between your thighs while his tongue moved slowly over your nipple.
Your fingers slid into his hair. The nerves had not vanished, but they were being replaced by something stronger. Every pull of his mouth and every stroke of his hand reminded your body that this was Beau. He already knew what made your back arch and what made your thighs squeeze around him. He had never rushed you before, and he was not about to begin now.
He kissed down your stomach, pausing at the waistband of your skirt.
His eyes lifted to yours as his fingers found the zipper.
You nodded, and Beau drew it down.
The skirt slipped over your hips with your help, leaving you in the underwear you had spent far too long choosing. They were prettier than anything you normally wore, a soft scrap of lace that had made you feel bold while standing in front of your mirror and extremely exposed now that Beau could see them.
The look on his face made the effort worthwhile.
“Those are new.”
You tried not to smile. “Maybe.”
His fingertips skimmed the lace along your hip. “You bought special underwear, but I’m the one getting judged for a candle?”
Beau leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your stomach before you could continue dismantling his defense. His laughter warmed your skin.
“You’re distracting yourself again.”
The words were softened by another kiss, then another, his mouth moving lower until it hovered above the waistband of your underwear.
Your teasing faded.
Beau curled his fingers beneath the lace and drew it down your legs. You lifted your hips, watching him remove the final piece of clothing before his hands moved along your thighs.
Being completely naked beneath him should have made you feel more nervous. Instead, Beau lowered himself between your legs with such familiar hunger that embarrassment barely had time to form.
He kissed the inside of your knee, then followed the path upward.
Your fingers tightened around the comforter when his mouth reached the crease of your thigh. His breath passed over your center, warm enough to make your hips shift toward him.
Beau glanced up at you.
There was affection in his expression, but there was desire too. He did not look at you as though tonight had turned you into something delicate. He looked at you the same way he always did when he wanted you, only more intensely, as though the trust you had placed in him had deepened every part of it.
His arm hooked beneath your thigh, opening you wider before his tongue slid through you.
Your head sank into the pillows.
The first stroke was broad and slow, gathering the wetness already beginning to collect before his tongue returned to your clit. Beau had eaten you out before, enough times to know exactly how much pressure made your breath catch and how quickly your body became sensitive.
Tonight, he took even more time.
He licked you until your thighs relaxed around his shoulders, alternating soft circles with slow passes that made warmth gather low in your stomach. Each time your hips began moving against his mouth, his hand pressed gently over your abdomen, not holding you still so much as grounding you against the bed.
The music continued somewhere beyond the rush of blood in your ears.
Beau’s fingers moved over the inside of your thigh, giving you enough time to register what he was doing before one pressed slowly into you.
The sensation was familiar. He had touched you this way before, but the purpose behind it made you more aware of every inch. His finger entered gradually while his tongue stayed against your clit, and your body opened around him with less resistance than you had feared.
He worked it deeper, curling it against the spot that made your legs tighten.
“Beau.”
He answered with a low sound against you, the vibration making your stomach clench.
Your fingers threaded through his hair as he began moving his hand. The pace remained unhurried, each stroke paired with the steady movement of his mouth. Pleasure built gradually until you stopped wondering whether you were relaxed enough or doing anything correctly.
There was only his tongue, his finger, and the tightening pressure that made you lift your hips from the mattress.
Beau waited until you were slick around him before easing a second finger alongside the first.
The stretch was noticeable. Your body tightened instinctively, and his hand stilled while his mouth softened against you. He did not retreat or force you to adjust faster. He kept licking slowly, letting pleasure work through the unfamiliar fullness until your grip loosened in his hair.
His fingers pressed deeper.
You exhaled shakily, the initial pressure fading as he began curling them inside you. The sensation was fuller than what you were accustomed to, but Beau’s tongue remained focused on your clit, keeping discomfort from becoming the center of your attention.
Soon, the stretch became part of the pleasure.
Your thighs trembled around his head. Beau moved his fingers with a steady rhythm, spreading them slightly each time he drew them back before pressing them into you again. He watched your face from between your legs, adjusting whenever your breathing changed.
The orgasm gathered faster than you expected.
You felt it in the tightening of your stomach and the way your body began chasing both his hand and his mouth. Beau knew it too. His fingers curled more firmly while his tongue flicked over your clit, refusing to let the pressure fade.
Your back arched.
The climax broke through you in a rush, your fingers gripping his hair as your thighs closed around his shoulders. Beau kept his mouth against you while you came, drawing out every pulse with slow movements of his fingers until the pleasure sharpened into sensitivity.
You tugged lightly at his hair.
He lifted his head, his mouth wet and his eyes dark.
The sight of him between your thighs sent another weak contraction through you.
Beau withdrew his fingers slowly, then kissed the inside of your leg before moving back up your body. He braced himself over you, and you barely had time to notice the shine on his mouth before he kissed you.
You tasted yourself on his tongue.
The kiss was deeper than the ones before, your hands moving over his bare back while his hips settled between your thighs. His jeans were still on, the hard length of him pressing against you through the denim.
You reached down and fumbled with his belt.
Beau’s mouth curved against yours. “Still nervous?”
“Yes,” you admitted, opening the buckle. “I also want you.”
The humor left his expression, replaced by something so warm and intent that you had to kiss him before you became overwhelmed by it.
He helped you with the button, then stood long enough to remove his jeans and boxers. Your gaze dropped despite yourself.
You had felt him through his clothes before. You had touched him with your hand, had even wrapped your lips around him once, but seeing him completely naked while knowing he was about to be inside you made the reality settle differently.
Beau was thick enough to make your stomach flutter.
He noticed where you were looking and climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself beside you rather than immediately settling between your legs.
“We’re not in a hurry.”
You nodded.
He opened the nightstand and removed a condom and a small bottle of lubricant. Of course he had both waiting. Beau had apparently planned the evening down to every possible detail, though you decided not to tease him when he squeezed some lubricant onto his fingers and touched you again.
The coolness made you flinch before his fingers warmed it against your entrance.
He worked one into you, followed by the second, moving them slowly while kissing you. Your body remained loose from the orgasm, taking him more easily now. Beau stretched you with patient strokes, his thumb brushing over your clit whenever your breath caught.
When he removed his hand, the emptiness left you aching.
Beau opened the condom and rolled it down his length. His movements were steady, but you saw the tension in his jaw and realized he was holding himself together more tightly than he wanted you to know.
He settled between your legs.
The head of his cock brushed against you, slick with lubricant. Your breath stopped as he dragged it slowly through your wetness before positioning himself at your entrance.
Beau leaned down, supporting himself on one arm while his other hand rested against your hip.
“Look at me.”
You met his gaze.
“If you want me to stop, I stop. It doesn’t matter how far we get.”
You nodded again, but Beau waited.
“I’ll tell you.”
He kissed you, slow and lingering, before beginning to press inside.
The first stretch was more intense than his fingers. Your body tightened around the broad head, and Beau stopped immediately, barely inside you.
Your hands gripped his shoulders.
He stayed close, kissing the corner of your mouth while his thumb moved along your hip. The pressure burned slightly, not unbearable but sharp enough that your instincts told you to tense against it.
“Breathe for me,” Beau murmured against your cheek.
You took a slow breath. Then another.
He did not move until your thighs loosened around him. When you shifted your hips experimentally, the pressure changed, becoming fuller rather than painful.
You pulled him closer.
Beau pushed forward another inch.
The stretch returned, but this time you were ready for it. He moved slowly, pausing whenever your expression tightened, letting your body adjust around each part of him before going deeper.
His arms trembled faintly from the effort of holding himself still.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” You slid your hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck. “Keep going.”
Beau pressed his forehead against yours as he eased farther inside.
The fullness seemed endless at first. Your body resisted, then gradually yielded, opening around him until his hips finally met yours. A quiet sound escaped him when he was fully seated, his eyes closing briefly as your walls tightened around his cock.
He stayed motionless.
You felt every part of him, the thick stretch and the weight of his body held above yours. The initial sting remained, but it was fading beneath the warmth of his skin and the slow circles his thumb traced against your hip.
“You’re shaking,” you whispered.
Beau opened his eyes. “I’m trying very hard not to ruin all my excellent preparation by losing my mind.”
The laugh that left you loosened the last of the tension in your body.
His expression shifted when he felt it.
“Can I move?”
You drew him down for a kiss. “Please.”
Beau pulled back slowly, leaving only the head inside you before pressing forward again.
The first thrust made you inhale sharply. It was not painful, but the drag of him against your walls was unfamiliar enough to overwhelm every other sensation. He repeated the movement with the same measured pace, giving you time to understand the fullness rather than bracing against it.
Your hands moved along his back.
Each thrust became easier. The stretch remained, but warmth began curling around it, pleasure gathering as your body adjusted to the rhythm. Beau watched you closely, his gaze moving between your face and the place where you were joined.
He changed the angle slightly.
The next stroke brushed something deeper inside you, making your hips lift to meet his.
Beau exhaled roughly. “There?”
You nodded, pulling him closer.
His thrusts grew more confident, still controlled but no longer hesitant. He pushed deeper each time, his pelvis pressing against your clit at the bottom of the movement. The room filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the slide of his body against yours, and the playlist Beau had spent far too long arranging.
You wrapped one leg around his waist.
The change drew him deeper, and a moan slipped from you before you could soften it. Beau’s head lowered to your neck, his mouth opening against your skin as his composure began to fray.
He had been so focused on you that you almost forgot what this must feel like for him. The reminder came in the tension of his shoulders and the low sound he made each time you tightened around him.
Your nails dragged lightly down his back.
His hips snapped forward harder.
The sharper thrust sent pleasure through you, and Beau immediately slowed, lifting his head to read your expression.
“Again,” you whispered.
Something in his eyes darkened.
He gave you another deeper stroke, then another, finding a rhythm that pushed the discomfort entirely from your mind. Your body moved beneath his now, meeting each thrust instead of waiting for it.
The sweetness of the evening did not disappear. It changed shape.
Beau kissed you harder, his hand sliding beneath your thigh to hold it higher against his side. The new angle allowed him deeper, each thrust drawing a broken sound from your mouth. His restraint slipped piece by piece as you pulled him into you, until his breathing became rough and his hips moved with a desperation that made heat coil through your stomach again.
You were not sure you could come from the feeling of him alone, but Beau did not expect you to.
His hand moved between your bodies.
His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles while he continued thrusting into you. The combination made your walls tighten around him, and Beau’s pace faltered.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth.
Your second orgasm began building almost immediately, your body still sensitive from his tongue. Beau kept his thumb moving, matching the pressure to the rhythm of his hips until you could no longer separate one sensation from another.
The candlelight flickered behind him. Your favorite scent filled the room, sweet and warm, mixing with the heat of Beau’s body and the faint clean smell of his sheets.
You clung to him as the pressure tightened.
Beau felt it approaching. His mouth moved along your jaw, his voice low and strained near your ear.
“Let go.”
The orgasm broke through you with his next thrust.
Your body tightened around him in pulsing waves, your back lifting from the mattress as pleasure swept through you. Beau kept moving, his thumb circling your clit while you came around his cock, though the rhythm of his thrusts quickly became uneven.
He buried his face against your neck, a rough groan leaving him as your walls continued clenching around him.
His hips drove forward once, twice, then held deep inside you as he came in the condom, his entire body shuddering over yours.
Beau remained above you until his breathing steadied, his forehead resting against yours while the last tremors passed through both of you.
When he finally pulled out, he did it slowly. The movement left you tender enough to wince, and his hand immediately settled against your thigh.
“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your knee before taking care of the condom.
You expected him to return to bed, but Beau disappeared into the bathroom instead. He came back moments later with a warm washcloth and sat beside you, one hand gently parting your thighs.
The first pass made you tense. His gaze lifted to your face, but he did not turn it into a worried interrogation. He simply slowed down, cleaning the dampness from your skin with soft strokes.
A faint trace of pink marked the cloth.
Beau noticed it, though his expression never changed. His thumb moved soothingly over your knee as he finished, treating you with the same tenderness as before without making you feel embarrassed by it.
Once the washcloth was gone, he handed you one of the water bottles waiting on the nightstand and climbed beneath the covers. You barely managed a sip before he drew you against his chest.
His fingers drifted lazily along your back. The playlist continued softly, and your favorite candle still warmed the room with its familiar scent.
You tucked your face beneath his chin, suddenly too tired and full of emotion to overthink the words.
“I love you,” you mumbled against his chest.
Beau’s arms tightened around you. He kissed your hair, lingering there as he whispered, “I love you too.”
You smiled into his skin and let your eyes close, held safely against him while the music played on.
if they're still open... maybe an experienced!abbot with an inexperienced/virgin! reader?
maybe add a little body insecurity...gentleness and worship from abbott...patience and just love
or maybe even some miscommunication in there cuz i'm not right in the head
<3 your work!!!
You Chose Well
pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Virgin!Resident!Reader
word count: 3.9k
summary: You've never been with anyone, and somehow Jack is taking that information far better than you are.
warnings/content: competency kink, praise kink, first time, unspecified age gap, Jack Abbot is a sweetie actually, gentle sex, emotional intimacy, mutual pining
author's note: un-beta'd and badly proofread, I am so tired but ily all
It was during a rare lull. Since it was also 3AM and you were running on coffee and fumes, you were a little more prone to honesty. Every so often, personal lives came up. It was only natural for the subject of dating to arrive at some point during the shift.
Ellis eyed you with what felt like genuine pity when you told her you were on three dating apps simultaneously, all yielding pretty unpromising results.
“Man, you have got to get out more,” she said, sipping her coffee as she shook her head.
“I figure the options are limited,” you muttered, arms folded.
You leaned against the nurses station, exchanging a glance with Ellis.
“But please do not set me up.”
“Shit, I don’t need that kind of pressure,” she retorted with a chuckle. “Your standards sound way too high.”
They actually weren’t. You just felt like you attracted men you weren’t interested in. You rolled your eyes.
“Make sure you look outside of the hospital is all I’m saying,” she added, side-eyeing you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ellis waited as if you needed to spill the beans, but you didn’t. You frowned at one another. Ellis narrowed her eyes for good measure.
“You’re…not hooking up with Abbot?”
Your response was louder than necessary, the words shooting out of you:
“Me and Abbot? Absolutely not.”
It was at that point that you felt the familiar presence of said Dr. Abbot as he moved past you to put an iPad away. You froze, eyes meeting Ellis.
She sipped her coffee again, looking pleased with herself, before turning to walk away. You closed your eyes, passing a hand over your face.
-
Jack had heard the whole conversation - not that he intended to. He was keeping an eye on your patients as usual. He had a tendency to, not that he should.
You were his favorite resident. He tried to not make it seem so obvious, the way he tried not to smile too much around you.
He liked to teach you, watch you grow. He liked making you laugh. Most of all, when you flourished, your natural abilities shined through. You were a brilliant doctor.
It hurt, to hear you so adamant.
Absolutely not. As if considering him was absurd. And yeah, he was a lot older than you but he didn’t think it was insane to even entertain the idea, just as a joke. Even if the joke was totally inappropriate in a hospital setting - either way, Jack tried not to visibly react.
You cleared your throat as he glanced over a chart, pretending to be engrossed. If you talked to him about it, he’d say it was nothing, totally frivolous.
Because it was, clearly, by how sure you were by the sound of it.
Absolutely not. Like he wasn’t remotely your type. Ouch.
-
The truth was that no men on the apps you rotated lived up to your crush, who happened to be Dr Abbot.
Ellis asking about Abbot was kind of nuts - he never, ever indicated being interested like that. He only ever seemed vaguely paternal towards you, a teacher to a student. The boundary was there and always had been.
Not that your mind or your body had been keeping that boundary. You were drawn to him, smiling way too much whenever he joked. The first time he praised you, you flushed and practically ran off after babbling excuses. In the privacy of a bathroom stall, you checked and saw how soaked you were.
He was older, wiser - so strong and smart and capable. Everything about him, you liked, more than what was considered professional by any means.
And you were a virgin wanting nothing to do with the men actually available for you.
It wasn’t that your standards were too high. You didn’t want to sleep with anyone and have it be a terrible, mortifying experience. You hadn’t wanted it to go on for so long, but you had dedicated so much of your life to medicine already.
In college, you’d been on dates. It’s not that you weren’t trying to some extent, but you weren’t confident in that part of you.
Your sexuality, though it existed - felt sort of foreign. Unknown and not important enough for so long. Now it was kind of pathetic how old you were, with how little experience you had.
Dr. Abbot made you so incredibly horny sometimes that you couldn’t be alone with him, which seemed to suit him just fine. If he noticed your discomfort, he didn’t let it get in the way of you being a great team. He called you a ‘nightcrawler’ like the rest and that had to be enough.
-
Until it was nearly a week and he’d barely said a word to you, like something really put him off. You forgot about your conversation with Ellis, thinking nothing had come from that. Dr. Abbot even joked with you later about switching out Shen’s ice coffee for decaf, smiles all around.
You had a belligerent patient and went to Abbot, wishing instead it was Shen. You gripped your stethoscope, eyes downcast as you approached.
“What’s up?”
“He wants another doctor,” you mumbled. “And I know it’s stupid, but he’s not taking my advice, he’s not answering questions-”
“I’ll talk to him,” Abbot said, voice soft.
Your eyes widened. “I didn’t mean you take over for me. I don’t want you to solve all my problems.”
“I know,” he said, eyes meeting yours. “You okay?”
You swallowed, distracted. He was staring very intently at you, assessing.
“No, not really,” you muttered. “I feel like I did something to piss you off the other day, and I’m sorry if that’s what I did…”
His lips parted, momentarily taken aback.
“Oh. I – lemme deal with this asshole, and then we’ll talk…”
He walked off, leaving you in the hallway he once occupied.
It wasn’t for another half an hour that you saw him again. He explained in a clear, calm voice that your patient was complying with treatment and would be discharged momentarily.
“That’s good,” you said, looking up from your computer screen. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said.
He leaned over, looking down at you. “You wanna have that chat now?”
You didn’t, honestly. It was the latter part of the shift, when everything dragged on and on, but you didn’t know when you’d next have the courage to be so honest with him. You had considered never bringing anything up, pretending you hadn’t been hurt by his absence of warmth.
“Okay,” you mumbled, and then rose from your chair.
You followed him out to the break room, self-conscious. He went to the coffee machine and poured a cup, offering it to you.
You took it with a nod, a small smile.
“I feel like I’ll regret this,” he began, and you went still. “But… I heard what you were talking about the other night with Ellis. About dating in the workplace.”
“Oh, God,” you said, feeling the color drain from your face.
Abbot pressed on. “I’m only mentioning it because it’s not something you should be talking about in the open like that, it’s just…an HR issue, and–”
You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to speak. “I just wanted to shut that down, I didn’t– I’m sorry if I offended you, it’s not that…”
“You don’t have to say that,” he cut in, hand up. “It would be fucked up for me to make you apologize for not being interested in–uh, dating me or–”
Your face was on fire as you tried to look at him properly again.
“Just don’t talk about it,” he finished. “Try not to, where I can hear it, at least.”
“Totally,” you said.
You decided to leave immediately, unsure of what else to do. Maybe you should transfer. People had done that for less embarrassing reasons. Or you could switch to the day shift.
Before you could though, Abbot reached out, hand stopping short of actually touching your arm. Your hands were by your sides, curled into fists.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“Just take a minute before you get back out there,” he said. “For the record, I wasn’t avoiding you. Maybe I had a bruised ego from hearing your ‘absolutely not’ at the idea of me sleeping with you.”
Your mouth stalled, and you gaped. “God, I’m– oh, God. Oh, my God…”
“Hey, it’s not fatal,” he added, smirking.
You wanted to die. He turned to leave you there and you figured it was as good a time as any to be honest.
“Cards on the table,” you blurted. “I said that because I meant it wasn’t happening, present-tense. And it’s not… it’s not ever happened, actually. With anyone.”
He went still.
“So maybe this part is fatal for me, not you,” you went on. “I can’t live knowing that you know that about me, my inexperience.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmured. His soft tone made your stomach flutter.
When he was kind was when you found him the most attractive. He was so understanding.
“Why not? Society says it’s embarrassing.”
“Well, then society’s fucking stupid,” he retorted, shrugging.
You both went quiet, the sound of the ER beyond filling the void. You glanced at one another.
“When did you lose your virginity? How old were you?”
He frowned as if to recall something, and you watched with a growing amusement. He cleared his throat.
“Uh, I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen?” you practically squawked. “What the hell?”
“It was the 80s,” he said with another shrug, as if it explained everything.
-
From then on, you were less worried about Dr. Abbot being a stranger to you. If anything, the whole debacle brought you closer. Another week went by and you were back to joking with one another.
During a shoulder reset one night, he winked at you. It made you all giggly and you had to quickly tamper it down, sensing Shen and Ellis exchanging a look.
They didn’t need to be up in your shit any more than they already were. Ellis had dropped the whole dating thing, only for Shen to harass you about joining a club.
“What about pickleball?”
“What?” you said, scrunching your nose. You poured over your chart. “Do you like pickleball?”
“No,” he said.
“Then why did you suggest it?” you asked with a laugh.
Shen shrugged.
“What, slow night?” Abbot said, walking up to you two.
You immediately pretended to be engrossed in your screen, Shen shrugging. Abbot lingered.
“Hey, I wanted to ask you something about your patient in Two.”
You glanced up, realizing Abbot’s question was directed at you.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
Abbot cocked his head to the side and you got up, following immediately. He walked you past Two and you frowned, confused.
He stopped with you next to a supply closet.
“You’re off tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah,” you murmured slowly.
He smirked, rocking a little from side to side.
“Is Dr. Robby off, too, or -?”
Abbot shook his head. You felt your face flush for the umpteenth time in his presence. It felt like every second you were with him, all you did was physically react, unable to control yourself.
Whatever he meant to say, to explain the real reason he pulled you aside - it had to wait.
“Motor vehicle collision. Unrestrained driver, hypotensive, altered, with abdominal tenderness-”
You barely had time to put on your gloves before the gurney slammed into the bay, paramedics rifling off vitals while Abbot assessed with that unnerving calm he always seemed to possess.
“BP’s dropping,” Mateo called from the monitor.
“FAST is positive,” you said. the ultrasound probe gliding over the patient's abdomen. Dark fluid pooled on the screen. Blood.
Abbot was already moving.
"We need access now."
The patient's peripheral lines had blown en route. He was circling the drain, skin waxy and pulse thready.
Abbot looked at you.
"You're doing the cordis."
Your stomach dropped.
A large-bore central line. Femoral. On a crashing trauma patient.
You'd assisted before. Never led.
"Dr. Abbot—"
"You're ready."
There was no doubt, which somehow made you believe it too.
The room narrowed around the two of you. Nurses moved in your periphery, hanging blood, preparing rapid infusers, but your world centered on the sterile field and Abbot at your shoulder.
He guided your hands into position.
"Landmarks."
You swallowed.
"Femoral artery here. Vein medial."
"Good. Needle."
Your gloved fingers were steady, though your pulse hammered. You advanced carefully, aspirating as instructed.
Dark venous blood flashed into the syringe.
"There it is," Abbot said, low and approving. "Beautiful."
Heat flared through your chest.
"Guidewire."
You threaded it smoothly.
Abbot leaned closer, one hand braced on the bed beside you, the other hovering near yours but never interfering.
"Perfect. Keep going."
Dilator, then the catheter.
The patient groaned weakly as you advanced the line.
"Flush."
You did. The blood returned immediately.
Abbot secured the line himself while blood products surged through the tubing.
Pressure began climbing.
"BP's up to ninety systolic," Mateo announced.
The entire room seemed to breathe again.
You stared at the line, hardly believing it.
Abbot tugged off one glove with his teeth, then the other, eyes fixed on you.
A grin spread across his face.
"Textbook."
Your heart nearly stopped.
"You got clean access first pass on a hypotensive trauma patient," he continued. "That's not beginner's luck. That's skill."
You ducked your head, trying and failing not to smile.
His gaze remained on you, warm and intent in a way that made your pulse misbehave all over again.
"You've got excellent hands," he said. "Confident. Precise. You trust yourself."
If only he knew. The praise hit like a drug, sinking deep beneath your ribs.
You felt taller somehow, stronger.
He seemed to notice exactly what his words did to you, because one corner of his mouth lifted.
"Remember that feeling."
You nodded.
The patient was whisked upstairs to surgery minutes later, leaving behind the usual chaos of wrappers, discarded packaging, and adrenaline.
As you stripped off your gown, Abbot lingered beside you.
"Seriously," he said, quieter now, meant only for you. "That was impressive."
You met his eyes. Coming from anyone else, it would have been nice. Coming from him, it felt electric.
"Thanks, Dr. Abbot."
-
When morning came, everything had changed, in a way that was nearly undetectable from the outside.
You found one another by your car, Abbot moving towards you like he always meant to.
“Hey,” you breathed.
“Hey.”
“Do you… want to go to my place?” you asked.
Your heart hammered. You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder, knowing you were mirroring him. He didn’t question you.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
You drove him home. Your apartment wasn’t in the best condition, but it would do. You felt like you’d waited long enough for this. You wanted this, you almost shook with it.
You were hyper aware of his body in relation to yours at all times, placing your bag on the floor by your discarded shoes. He copied you, that steady gaze meeting yours.
“I know what this means, that I invited you back here,” you murmured. “I… I don’t know what better words to use…”
You stepped closer, feeling the heat of him that close to you. You looked down at your hands, nearly touching his. He’d stood this close to you many, many times before. Now, it was so charged. So deliberate.
“You make me so wet,” you whispered.
“Fuck,” he said, and you took your opportunity, kissing him.
You hadn’t kissed anyone in a while. You were frightened you were rusty, brushing your lips delicately with his, and then he pulled you into his arms, to properly hold you.
You closed your eyes, his head tilting, mouth moving over yours. His tongue nudged at you and you gasped, letting him in. Your stomach was molten, your hands gripping his arms.
He was so solid, real. He tasted nice.
“Shit, is this okay?” you whispered, and he nodded, smiling at you.
“I promise,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered back. “Kiss me again-”
He cut you off with something rougher, all-consuming. You moaned then, unadulterated. You couldn’t help it, wishing you’d stay dignified. He made you so needy.
You tussled, and he backed you against the wall. Pressing up against you, you felt it - or thought you did - his erection straining towards you. His eagerness was flattering, still so unexpected.
You grabbed his hair, fingers threading through his greying curls. He moved down, to your cheek, your throat. He grazed your skin and you whimpered.
“Jack…”
It was the first time you’d said his name, ever. He whispered yours back, moving back up to kiss your lips. Slow smacks, tongues tangling.
“Please, I want to touch you, please…”
He nodded, pulling you away from the wall, cuddling you. You wrapped your arms around his middle.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded.
“I just… don’t want to disappoint you,” you said, words tumbling out awkwardly.
He shook his head, as if what you were saying was ridiculous. You pulled him by the hand down the hallway, to your room.
Your blackout blinds were still up and you switched on your bedside lamp, sinking onto the mattress. He sat next to you, pulling you into another kiss.
You felt bold, your hand on his thigh, inching upwards. He smiled against your lips when you shifted closer, pressing your hand against his crotch.
“I…”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he murmured.
“I haven’t touched one before. Except patients…”
“Do what turns you on,” he said.
“You,” you whispered. “You turn me on…”
Your noses brushed, more kisses. Your lips were going numb.
“Can you take your clothes off?” you whispered.
He chuckled. He pulled back, taking off his shirt.
You gulped, watching as he got rid of his pants, too. His underwear, black and tented, had a wet patch in the middle. All that from kissing you.
“Okay?” he asked, and you nodded dumbly.
You knew it was your turn and you hesitated anyway, hands still in your lap. You looked down, at his prosthetic leg, before looking back up at his face.
He was watching you, trying to gauge your reaction. You’d only seen him without his leg once or twice, but never for this long.
“I really like you,” you said, and his face softened. “And when Ellis asked me about hooking up with you – I wished I could take back what I said, but I didn’t want her to know…”
He kissed you, gentle and lingering. He pulled back, your foreheads together.
“I really like you, too,” he said.
You decided then to strip, fast enough to just get it over with. He watched, your face burning as you stood there by your bed, only your underwear left.
You tossed your bra aside, taking a deep breath.
“C’mere, sweetheart,” he said, beckoning you. “God, look at you…”
You tried not to think about what you looked like from the outside, what sagged, what was dimpled and not quite right. You tried to be in the moment, but you weren’t until he touched you again, skin to skin.
He pulled you into his arms, so that you sat on his lap, his foot still planted on the floor. You rubbed against his crotch, cotton to soaking cotton, your whimpers undeniable.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, kissing your bare shoulder.
“Stop,” you whispered.
“Sorry, I like to talk during sex,” he whispered back, hands tracing your sides, your stomach. He slipped down to grip your ass. He nuzzled your cheek. “Can I touch you?”
You nodded. What came next, his hand down the front of your underwear, felt better than anything you dreamt of. Your clit throbbed with need, your folds audibly wet as he stroked and explored you.
“Fuck,” he whispered, and you tried to hide your face, rocking against him.
You shifted, something coming to life, like when you touched yourself. You chased it, crying out when you found the sweet spot. He wasn’t quite inside you, and it wasn’t enough.
“Can you… can you get a condom?” you whispered.
Rubbing up against him, you itched for him. He nodded, but didn’t stop grinding his hand against you.
“You’re close, right?” he whispered, and you nodded.
It went on for a while, building up and up. You started to pant, riding his hand. He watched you, and you couldn’t bear it, burying your face in his neck as you rode.
“That’s it,” he whispered, and you came undone, crying out.
You lost vision, shuddering over the edge. He held you against him, as the world spun around you. You felt sweat on your hairline, blinking back reality.
“And there she is,” he whispered, and you gave a shy laugh. “You okay?”
You moved away, flopping down on the bed. He looked back at you, moving over to your side. He fished out a condom from his pants.
“Haven’t worn one of these in a while, but I’m sure it’s like riding a bike,” he said, and you laughed, passing a hand over your face.
He shoved his underwear down and off, his back to you. You stared down at what you could see of the top of his ass as he put it on, then he crawled over to you, between your thighs.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathed. “You?”
He nodded. He caged you in, and you kissed his bicep, then his lips again. He hovered.
“Is it gonna hurt?” you whispered.
“It might, it might not,” he said. “It might just feel uncomfortable. Pressure.”
You swallowed. “Okay, yeah. Do it. I’m ready.”
The silence that followed, you held your breath. You waited, glancing down between you as he shifted, aimed, then started to push in.
“Oh-”
He stretched you beyond what you expected initially. You gasped, and it burned. He stilled, and you let yourself relax. He kissed you again, slow and gentle.
“You are squeezing the hell out of me,” he whispered, and you realized you were.
It was automatic, like your cunt was trying to pull him further in, so eager.
“Shit,” he whispered, and you fluttered around him.
It wasn’t like you were coming, but it was like you could if you waited. His cock just felt-
“Fuck, you feel so good,” you babbled.
He began to rock and you couldn’t keep quiet, giving little moans with each stroke. He kept going, becoming lost in you, moving faster.
His rhythm was so precise, so measured, just like when he focused on a patient. He watched your face, eyes blown with lust, and something else…
“Jack,” you mumbled, and caught him in a sloppier kiss.
He let go, and you did, too. It was a sweaty, eager mess. Two bodies together as he raced toward the finish line.
“I’m gonna…”
He let out a groan, gripping you harder. You knew you wouldn’t come like this, not this time. You watched, wanting to see his face, needing to know what he looked like when he came.
He did not disappoint, mouth falling open as he climaxed, his shoulders rolling. You both went still, your thighs spread wide open, your hips still cradling his, one heel on his ass.
“You okay?” you whispered.
You stroked his back, his hair. He pulled away, looking down at you.
The words tumble out of your lips just as Simon's pants drop to the ground. You wish you could take it back, watching him freeze up slightly at your words.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't find the time to say it earlier." You contine quietly as Simon approaches you and sits beside you on the bed. You try not to stare at the cock outlined in his boxers.
"I just didn't expect it. You make a lot of sex jokes for a virgin." Simon points out, one of his hands finding your thigh and giving it a squeeze.
"I think it's funny!" You defend immediately, which makes Simon laugh a little. "It's all fun and jokes to me, but now I'm here. And I don't know what to do."
Simon nods in understanding as he pulls you closer to his side and kisses your lips. "Well... We can take it slow. You've never done anything?" He asks curiously and you shrug a little.
"I've made out before." Simon lets out a little laugh and pulls you in for another kiss.
for the one and only @sammimi19 💖 (thank you for everything)
this one is for the people who haven't had their first times yet, or maybe they did and it wasn't all that great </3
also please do not misunderstand the title, i am not telling anyone to 'wait' or judging those who don't. i simply refuse to write smut containing minors or any characters younger than 20 tbh
word count: 6k
edit: here's a little video i made for this for immersion yay
cw: first time sex, loss of virginity, nipple play, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, condoms, PIV.
“Oh my God, I had no idea you were prom king!” you exclaim with a wide grin, eyeing the framed photo hanging on the beige wallpapered wall.
A hand suddenly sneaks around your head to cover your vision, closing your eyes shut and pulling you back against a hard chest.
“We don't talk about that,” Leon, your college boyfriend, grumbles in your ear.
You giggle, reaching for his wrist to pull away the manmade blindfold that is his palm.
“Hey, let me see! You look cute!”
“I look stupid,” he huffs, finally dropping his hand when you grab it with yours. “I don't even know why I was picked…”
Keeping his palm in yours, you lean closer to inspect the picture where he’s standing awkwardly with his prom date, both adorning a sash and crown that indicate their awarded titles. It makes your heart warm knowing it was probably his mom who insisted on hanging the image in the family home. You can imagine him protesting while she puts it in place and the thought makes you snicker.
Turning to him with narrowed eyes and a sly grin, you squeeze his hand. “Really? You don't know why?”
He frowns, pouty lips growing poutier at your teasing expression and he shakes his head.
“No, I don't know why, and don't give me that look that says you're about to say something ridiculous.”
Your smile widens and you turn to face him fully, taking a step closer so your chest is nearly pressed to his.
“It’s because you're hot, Einstein.”
Leon huffs out a laugh, turning his face away, though you catch the blush creeping up his neck as he does so.
You want to tease him further, but a yank to your intertwined hands pulls you along as he walks ahead towards the stairs.
“Come on, smartass, let me show you my room.”
Following in his steps, you can't help sneaking glances around his childhood home, taking in every detail of the place he was raised in.
You and Leon grew up in the same city, but having never gone to the same schools, you never met until you shared a college class a few months ago, miles away from your hometown. Fate works in mysterious ways like that.
You remember he had sat next to you and asked for a pen, which you gave with a kind smile. It was only later he admitted to you he never needed a pen, but just wanted an excuse to talk to ‘the pretty girl who made it hard to focus in class.’ His words, not yours.
He has always been so sweet. Thoughtful too. From buying you your favorite treats to sending you good luck voice memos for your exams where he gets all sappy and cute, even if it's embarrassing. You still wonder how you got so lucky that your first real boyfriend is such a sweetheart.
After strenuous finals and a hectic schedule, you're both back home for the summer, and you couldn't be happier about sharing the same hometown—it really feels meant to be.
Entering Leon’s room, your eyes twinkle with excitement as you take in every detail of the place where he undoubtedly spent most of his time growing up. The soft glow of his bedside lamp makes everything warmer, giving the atmosphere an added hue of nostalgia.
You comment and ask questions about every intriguing feature. His Star Wars themed comforter, the medals from his track running days, the posters of his favorite bands lining the walls… Everything holds a memory you eagerly want to learn about.
Picking up a small figurine of Tony Tony Chopper to examine it closely, you don't see the way Leon watches you fondly from his spot on the bed, taking in the sight of you in his space.
“You know I’ve never really had a girl over in my room…” he smiles shyly, scratching the back of his neck.
Your heart flutters knowing you’ve never really been in a boy’s room either. Although you've been in Leon’s at campus, it wasn't the same with his roommate constantly around.
With the both of you living in dorms, it's difficult to find a time and place to hang out where it's just the two of you. So this moment feels extra special, and you're excited to have many more like this the whole summer.
Especially if it means you and Leon will finally have your long anticipated first time together.
“Am I the chosen one, then?” you grin, feeling butterflies in your stomach when he stands and walks closer.
“I guess you are.”
Leon stops right before you, taking the old figurine from your fingers to look down at it with a chuckle.
“I think I was a bit too much of a nerd for any serious enough girlfriends to bring home.”
“I disagree. Nerds make great boyfriends,” you argue, tugging at the drawstrings of his hoodie.
He smiles down at you softly, reaching to hold your waist with both hands to pull you even closer.
“Did I tell you my parents aren't home tonight?”
Your eyes flicker from your toying fingers to his handsome face, narrowing your eyes in mock contemplation.
“I think you may have mentioned that five or six times already, but I’m not quite sure.”
He laughs in response, squeezing your sides playfully, “did I now?”
“Mhm,” you hum, pulling the strings tighter to make him bend down enough for you to kiss his cheek.
The feel of your lips against his skin makes his heart flutter, and soon he’s pulling you flush against him to leave a tender kiss on your neck.
Leon hears your breath catch, and he leans back just enough to meet your eyes.
“But just so we’re clear… It doesn't mean anything has to happen, okay? I don't want you to feel pressured.”
“Trust me, Leon, if I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't be here… How else do you think I stayed a virgin until now?” you huff out a chuckle.
“Same way I stayed one too apparently.”
The both of you giggle, appreciating the fact you get to be in the same 'predicament’—something rare among your peers.
You feel another kiss on your jaw, then your cheek, before he lands one on the corner of your mouth with a smile.
“You want a tour of my bed next, baby?”
That makes you chuckle, swatting his shoulder sheepishly.
“You’re such a dork... But yeah, I would, actually.”
In response to your agreement, the arms wrapped around you shift lower to hold right under your butt and hoist you up in the air, making you squeal.
Leon is beaming from ear to ear as he crosses the short distance from his spot to his old twin bed, only to set you the mattress with a thud, your body bouncing on the sheets from the movement.
“Give me a minute, yeah?”
He pecks your nose, making you scrunch your face in amusement, then stands up, leaving you momentarily alone in his bedroom.
You lay your head next to the printed Darth Vader on a pillow as you look up at the ceiling littered with pale green glow-in-the-dark stars—the room not dark enough for them to shine. You always wanted to have these growing up, and the thought of little Leon sleeping under them every night makes your chest warm.
The wholesome image isn't enough to keep your nerves at bay, though, when you realize this is the moment you’ve been waiting for for a long time. Or at least, that's how it has felt.
Ever since you both started dating, with him officially asking you to be his girlfriend on the third date, all you’ve been able to have were some heated makeout sessions and the occasional dry humping. Oh, and you let him feel you up under your shirt a couple of times—that was nice. Very nice, actually.
Your thoughts are interrupted by him coming back into the room with a set of bath towels and a large bottle of water. He awkwardly bunches the fabric in his arms to place on the nightstand along the water, and you can tell he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.
He sits beside you, a bit stiff, and you're hit with the smell of his cologne that he undoubtedly reapplied just now. The act is endearing, but you start to wonder if you should ask for a minute to do some extra pampering yourself too. Not that you would need it considering you had an everything-shower right before you left home to meet him.
You’ve both anticipated this, even if it wasn't explicitly planned.
The scraping sound of his bedside drawer opening captures your attention, and you see him pull out a tiny remote with multicolored buttons. Although he doesn't take the rest out, your eyes catch the brand new, unopened box of condoms and a bottle of lube.
Goodness, it’s really happening.
“Just to, um, set the mood, I guess…” he mumbles and presses the red circle on the remote as he turns off the bedside lamp.
You’re suddenly plunged in a crimson hue shining from the LED strips lining the junction between the ceiling and walls.
“Too much?” he asks nervously when he takes in your surprised expression.
You chuckle, watching his now scarlet lit features. “Maybe try something cooler… Perhaps purple?”
He nods, pressing the indicated color with a click, and watches as the light turns into a violet glow.
When he sees your smile soften, your eyes looking up to take in the change, he can't help but scoot closer until your thigh is pressed to his.
“You’re so pretty.”
His whispered compliment catches you off guard—not that you're not used to his usual sweet words that boost your confidence like nothing else.
“You're gonna make me blush…” you murmur with a flustered smile.
Leon, cups your cheek tenderly, then leans in to whisper against your mouth, “welcome to the club.”
The press of his lips to yours makes your heart skip a beat, and you return the kiss with fervor, reaching to place a hand on his thigh.
What starts as sweet slowly becomes passionate, and he nips at your bottom lip eagerly just to hear you whine like you do every time. You then feel the swipe of his tongue against the seam of your mouth, and you open up to meet it with yours. Both slick muscles brush against each other in a feverish dance once you establish a familiar rhythm.
His hand moves from your face to your waist, and he moans when you thread your fingers into his dirty blonde locks.
“Come here,” he mutters, shifting you so you’re straddling his lap.
The moment you do, you feel his erection press against your jeans, your own heat increasing as you grind down on him subconsciously.
“Fuck, baby…” his grip on your waist tightens, moving you in tandem with his own hip movements.
Between sloppy kisses, you find yourself bold enough to ask in a murmur, “can I take off your hoodie?”
Leon pauses, then leans back in just to gently bite your lip before answering, “you don't even have to ask.”
With his eager approval, you reach for the hem of his top and pull up both the hoodie and the tanktop he had underneath, too impatient to wait. Your breath hitches when your eyes roam his shirtless form, his fit torso making your mouth water.
He feels his whole body grow hotter under your gaze, and takes your hand to place it on his abs, keen for your touch.
“It’s summer, so you know what that means.” He bites his lip with a smile, his confidence soaring from the way you touch him hungrily.
“What?” you ask half focused, your attention still locked on his body.
“Pool dates,” he chuckles, giving your ass a light tap and grabbing the fat in each palm to grind you down on him again.
You whimper, enjoying the heat of his bold touch. “Are you saying I’ll be seeing a lot more of you shirtless?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
You giggle, bringing both hands to run up and down his sides. “But that also means everyone else at the pool will see you too.”
Raising an eyebrow at your teasing tone, he responds by sliding his own hands under your shirt.
“Don't tell me you’re jealous?”
“Maybe a little bit,” you smirk.
Leon laughs at your playfulness, shaking his head in fondness.
“How about this, I’ll keep an arm around you the whole time so everyone knows I’m taken… Plus, I need to make sure no one is ogling you for too long either.”
You grin as you picture the image of you both by the poolside, lounging in each other’s arms and enjoying the warm weather. The thought of showing off your hot boyfriend makes you tingle.
Feeling more and more worked up, you let a hand skim further down until it’s toying with the elastic band of his briefs peaking past his jeans.
“Mhm, but they don't get to touch… Especially not here,” you whisper, letting your index slip under the underwear hem.
He sucks in a sharp breath in response, and you see the look on his face turn from playful to hungry again in an instant.
“That's right. They don’t.”
Leon crashes his lips on yours, kissing you messier than before with his hands moving to push your shirt up, pacing himself just enough to give you the chance to refuse if you didn't want him to.
When you don't say anything, and instead moan into his mouth, he groans, leaning back just to pull your top over your head and discard it to the side.
At the sight of you topless, he can't resist immediately peppering kisses on your sternum, mouthing hungrily at the valley between your breasts.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts, sliding a hand to grab your left tit through your bra.
You’re trembling in need on top of him, feeling every cell of your body on fire. Every compliment, every kiss, every touch—only seem to serve to grow your confidence and want for him. So, you don't hesitate long before reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.
The moment you slide it down and expose your tits to Leon’s ravenous eyes, you see his brain short circuit in real time at the sight.
“Baby… You’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice strained, then slides a palm to massage your breast with a moan.
“Leon…” you whimper, arching into his touch, and he decides to do the one thing he’s always dreamt of doing.
He latches his lips to your nipple.
The sound that comes out of you is pure sin, and he takes that as approval to keep going, suckling the soft peak in his mouth greedily.
With his left hand, he fondles your other breast, then wraps his arm tightly around your waist to keep you in place as you continue to move your hips against his.
He keeps showering your nipples in attention, licking and sucking while you whine on top of him, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while you clench around nothing.
With wet lips and a mind hazy with want, he lowers a hand to the button of your jeans, meeting your eyes with wide blown pupils.
“I wanna see all of you… please?”
Biting your lip, you nod, “you don't even have to ask,” you parrot his words from earlier.
Grinning at your answer, he unzips your jeans and you shift off his lap to let him slide them off you, leaving you in your white, thin panties.
The fabric is so soaked it's become transparent, and Leon can't peel his eyes away from the outline of your dripping nether lips.
“Baby, I’ve wanted you like this for so long, I can barely think.”
“Maybe, take off your pants too?” you answer with a sheepish smile.
He chuckles and complies, kneeling between your legs on the mattress to unbuckle his belt. The sight of him looking down at you as he does so has you gripping the sheets.
Once his fly undone and his jeans lowered and off, you're awarded the view of his straining briefs as they struggle to contain his hardened cock. But what gets you even more turned on, is the wet patch of precum indicating just how desperate he is already.
Leon feels the searing heat of your gaze on him, and though he feels nervous, he doesn't let that stop him from hooking his fingers on your panties’ waistband.
“May I, my love?” he asks in an overly formal tone that makes you giggle despite your own nerves.
“Yes you may, my good sir.”
That's all he needs to pull the fabric down as you lift your hips, biting his plump bottom lip when it catches on your wet cunt from the stickiness. A final tug lets him lower them completely to reveal your glistening folds.
“Fuck.”
If his pupils were dilated before, they might as well be fully black now. He’s never been face to face with a pussy before, let alone yours, and he feels like he might drown from how much his mouth is watering to have a taste.
You reach to place a hand on the one he has on your thigh, seeking comfort from the vulnerability of being completely exposed to him for the first time. Only then does he take in a shaky breath to reassure you.
“Baby, I don't even know what to do with myself. You’re so fucking beautiful and sexy… I mean, fuck, look at you.”
He brings a tentative thumb to brush over your puffy lips and watches you shiver at the contact.
“Listen, I don't really know what I’m doing, so, uh, please tell me if I do something wrong,” he murmurs nervously, his hands trembling slightly against your skin.
“Actually, I have an idea…”
You adjust the pillows behind you until you're propped up in a half seated position, your legs bent at the knees. He lays between them, on his stomach, staring at you mesmerized.
“I’ll show you how I do it.”
You reach down and take his hand in yours, just to place his digits on your needy clit, barely breathing as you guide him. Your face is so hot you can feel your temples throbbing, your heart beating so fast it might stop. It’s that mix of excitement and nerves that makes you lightheaded.
With your guidance, Leon is able to circle your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb, watching you intently for every reaction. When he hits a particularly nice spot and you moan, he feels his hips buck against the mattress under him before he can even stop them.
“Shit… Is this what you do when I call you at night? Tell me, baby, please.”
“Yeah, Leon… This is what I do when you get me worked up.”
He makes a sinful sound at your admission, the thought of you looking like this when he’s whispering in your ear about all the things he wishes he could do to you, making him twitch.
“Can I taste you?” he asks suddenly, unable to pace himself anymore.
When he sees your wide eyed, shy expression, he quickly starts blabbering nervously.
“I-I mean only if you want me to! I just— I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, and I know I’ll probably suck b-but I watched a lot of videos to learn, and, um, I can maybe try, unless that's not—”
“Yes,” you cut off his rambling with a shy voice, “you can do it… I-I want you to.”
Leon’s breathing stutters, grateful that the purple lighting is hiding his intensely blushing face.
“Okay. Just tell me what feels good.”
With that, he leans his face closer, his breath hot against your quivering cunt. Then, he sticks out his tongue and licks a broad stripe along your slit that makes you jerk with a whimper.
Looking up to meet your eyes, he does it again, tongue deliberately slow as he groans, taking in every twitch and tremor while savoring your taste.
Your breath hitches, your fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. “Fuck, Leon—”
He gets greedier with every sound you make, lapping at your juices like they're the sweetest thing he’s tried.
“R-right there!” you whine when he licks over the hood of your sensitive clit.
“Yeah? Like this?” he mutters against your folds, giving another eager lick.
When he sees the way you react he tries something he’s seen many times in porn in hopes you like it. Gently, he holds your lips apart with his thumbs, then seals his mouth over your bundle of nerves.
He begins to suckle the delicate flesh experimentally, keeping his eyes locked on your face for any hints of discomfort. The moment you mewl in approval, though—bucking your hips into his touch—he tightens his hold on you to steady you, and starts sucking and licking more confidently.
The new sensations make you dizzy, the pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before. You’re not experienced enough to know if he’s doing it correctly, you just know it feels good and that’s enough of an indicator he’s doing something right.
Any lack of skill is made up for by his intense enthusiasm, and soon enough, you’re getting closer and closer to orgasming with every swipe of his tongue, the very image of him between your legs already bringing you close.
“Stay right there, fuck, d-don’t change anything,” you whimper when you feel yourself about to tip over the edge.
Leon keeps the fast strokes of his slick muscle that appear to be pushing you to climax, not stopping to rest despite his jaw starting to ache. He does not care, because seeing your undoing under him is everything to him at the moment.
A few seconds later, and he’s making you cum for the first time, your hand flying to your mouth to try and muffle the loud noises leaving you uncontrollably as you writhe under his greedy mouth.
“Leon…” you pant once the high passes, looking down at him to find him smiling up at you softly between your trembling legs. “That was… Holy shit.”
He chuckles and kisses your mound, sliding his palms under you to give your ass a squeeze.
“You taste so good. I could keep going if you want.”
The proposition makes you whine, though as tempting as it is, you can't wait to feel him inside you.
“Come here, please.”
You open your arms, beckoning him closer, and he doesn't hesitate to crawl up your body to kiss you feverishly as he settles on top of you. The taste of yourself on his lips is sinfully addicting, and you don't hesitate to sloppily collect every trace of it off him.
Grinding his hard cock against your heat, you feel gentle hands roam your body, touching everywhere like he can't get enough. You do the same with your own fingers grazing up and down his broad back, tracing every muscle, mole, and freckle on his warm skin.
“I almost came just from watching you fall apart… You looked so sexy, I was humping the mattress like a dog,” he whispers with a small laugh.
You bite your lip with a smile, tightening your hold on him. “That would’ve been really hot.”
“More like really embarrassing,” he huffs sheepishly, then lets his fingers trail down until they reach your sopping cunt again. “I wanna feel you first.”
Breathless, you open your legs some more to grant him easier access, the movement making an obscene, slick noise.
“Y-yeah, me too… Do you wanna try fingering me?”
Leon groans in pleasure at the sound of that and nods eagerly. He readjusts to lay next to you on his side, one hand brushing your hair while the other stays on your waiting pussy.
You reach down to guide his middle finger into your entrance slowly, your shaky breaths making your chest move in tandem with your breathing.
Once his digit is inside up to the first knuckle, you let go of his hand and watch him bite his lip as he slowly pushes inside, pausing every other second to check your reaction.
“Shit, babe— you’re so fucking warm,” he can't help but moan, mirroring your own whimpers at the feel of a part of him inside you.
“Keep going… It feels nice,” you whine.
When his finger is fully nestled inside your slippery hole, he leans his head down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples again, and begins to gently move in and out of your cunt. The moans you make only spur him to continue, slowly picking up speed the more your walls relax.
Leon can't believe your pussy feels this soft, wet, and tight on his finger alone, and he’s already losing it imagine that feeling around his neglected cock. But he knows he needs to prep you first. He’s learned as much as he could about first times from the internet, and even posted on r/AskReddit to seek every bit of advice he can get. He wants to make this good for you more than anything else.
When the slide of his lone finger is easy enough, you stroke his hair and murmur, “I think you can put in a second one.”
He nods, still mouthing at your breasts, before slipping a second digit inside you just like you asked. When you moan at the feeling, your tight walls hugging him, he can't stop himself from pressing his lips to yours again just to swallow every sound.
“You feel so good, baby. You’re so soft and so fucking wet.”
Every whispered word makes you whinier, your pussy greedier, until he’s steadily finger fucking your slick heat without hindrance. He even tries a slight parting motion inside you to stretch you a bit more, and his hips buck instinctively against your thigh when you moan louder at that.
After several minutes of prepping your hole, sucking your nipples, and making out with your whiny mouth, you feel that Leon has done enough to prepare you for his patiently waiting dick.
“Okay, babe… Let’s try. I think I’m ready.”
He releases one of your peaks he was suckling with a wet pop, meeting your eyes with hungry ones.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Your assured tone has him suppress a moan as he nods in return. He slowly slides his fingers out, making you whimper, and he doesn't hesitate to bring them up to his mouth for another taste of your cunt he’s already become a fan of.
Reaching for the waistband of his now ruined briefs from the precum wet patches, you watch him lick every drop of your slick as you lower his underwear slowly.
He groans, immensely turned on by your initiative, and he watches you peel off the last layer separating your naked bodies. He kicks off the garment once it reaches his ankles, and holds his breath when your gaze drops down to his now sprung free, hard, leaking cock.
“It’s, um… big.”
Your nervous, candid comment makes him choke on his own saliva. He hides his face in the crook of your neck to let out a shy laugh that slowly has you relaxing to join him with a chuckle.
“Sorry, I sounded like a bad porn actress.”
Lifting his head to look down at you, he smiles sheepishly, squeezing your waist.
“You kinda did. But hey, I’ll take the compliment…” he grins, voice trailing off before his expression morphs into something more serious. “Unless you’re worried or something, which I understand… I mean I can just use my fingers again, we don't really have to do the full—”
His words are cut off when you wrap your fingers around his throbbing length, making him hiss out a low ‘fuck’ as he looks down at where you're touching him.
“It's softer than I thought,” you comment with a small, reassuring smile.
“Y-yeah?”
“It's soft, and warm…” you whisper, using your second hand to stroke the back of his thick head of blonde hair. “Feels nice… Maybe I can taste you too?”
His eyes snap up to yours, lips parted in surprise.
“That would be—fuck—that would be so hot… But I’d definitely cum too fast, babe. I’m already feeling a lot with just your hand. Shit.”
You can't help but feel a bit disappointed you won't get to have him in your mouth, but you understand why he would be reluctant to let you do it.
“Okay. Next time, then?”
Leon shakes his head out of pure disbelief at how perfect you are. He’s never felt better about waiting for the right girl, despite always feeling like an outcast amongst his peers who constantly bragged about all the dirty sex they're having. Though, he doubts most of it is true knowing how locker room talk tends to be a pissing contest half the time.
“Yes, baby. Definitely next time.”
With one more peck to your lips, he reaches for the condoms and lube in his left-open nightstand drawer. He then quickly tears open the box and takes out one of the foil packets, and prepares to tear it open.
You stop him mid movement with a playful grin, taking the blue square away from him.
“I’ve always wanted to do this.”
He raises an eyebrow, then laughs when you rip it open with your teeth, putting in more effort than necessary. You then pull out the rolled up latex circle and look at it curiously, before you look at your waiting boyfriend again.
“I wanna put it on you.”
“Please.”
Leon has to stop himself from humping the air like an animal in heat when you sit up to grab his veiny cock again.
You begin to fiddle with the condom, only to realize you’re attempting to unroll it around him in the wrong direction, and the both of you giggle as you fix it for a proper fit.
Once the protective barrier is on, he kisses your cheek as a ‘thanks,’ then grabs the bottle of lube that he flicks open with his thumb.
“Maybe now’s a good time for the towels,” you mutter and reach for the fluffy fabric that you place under you before repositioning yourself on your back.
Leon then squeezes the lubricant with a loud squelch like ketchup, directly onto his bobbing dick, that he then lathers with his free hand.
That makes you snicker, finding the sight amusing, and he huffs out a laugh in return before squirting some more directly onto your waiting hole, the cold sensation making you gasp.
“That's what you get for laughing,” he teases, then kisses you again just because he can.
Finally, he positions himself between your legs once again, bracing himself on his elbows and shuddering when his sensitive tip brushes your inner thigh.
“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he whispers with a hand moving to hold his erection, the other stroking your hair.
“I know.”
With your sweet smile, you help guide him towards your entrance until his tip is aimed correctly at it, before moving your palms to rest on his waist.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he mutters.
Then, slowly, he presses in just enough for his cockhead to notch into your opening.
You both let out needy noises at the pleasurable feeling, but it's only when you nod that he pushes in a bit more, his fingers twitching in your locks.
“Still okay?”
“Y-yeah, don't stop.”
You take slow, deep, breaths with every inch that he slides in deliberately unhurried, your virgin cunt hugging his own virgin cock so warm and tight he feels like he’s dreaming.
“Holy fuck— y-you feel so good.”
Pressing his forehead to yours, every ragged breath of his fans on your lips as he continues to steadily breach open your untouched pussy. It's overwhelming how full you feel but the pleasure overshadows any discomfort, and you know the reason you’re not experiencing pain like so many of your girlfriends warned you about, is thanks to his loving and caring approach he’s shown from the start.
“Leon… I love you,” you whimper, suddenly feeling overtaken by emotion when he manages to fully settle inside your clenching heat.
“Oh, baby…” he whispers, a hand moving to cradle your face. “I love you so much… You have no idea.”
Intertwining your fingers with his, you give him the okay to slowly start moving after a moment. Just enough to get you adjusted to the new feeling of having your walls penetrated.
You tilt your chin up to indicate you want a kiss, and he complies with no hesitation, the both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.
“Fuck, I’m not gonna last that long, babe.”
Leon knows the fact he’s managed to not burst after who knows how long spent in the sheer presence of your naked body, let alone touching it, is already a lifetime achievement for a first timer like him.
“Do it. Wanna see you cum, wanna feel it,” you whine under him, moving your hips the slightest bit to meet his shallow thrusts.
“Fucking hell—”
Your words and movements break him, and he can't hold on anymore.
On more thrust, two, three, and then his cumming with a drawn out moan, his fingers tightening against your skin as he loses himself. Spurt after spurt of creamy spend shoot into the latex barrier of the condom while you shake under him. You only wish you could preserve this moment forever, just to rewatch how beautiful he looks on top of you.
He finally stills, panting, and doing his best not to let himself crush you with his weight, then gives you one more peck on the lips before slowly starting to pull out.
You make a small noise at the feeling of being emptied, and you watch him carefully remove the filled condom, just to tie it up and let it drop in the small trashcan under his desk to deal with later.
“Pro move,” you grin sleepily, feeling exhaustion catch up to you.
“You know me, the expert condom handler,” he laughs.
Leon uses the second towel to clean your inner thighs then himself from any mess as much as he can, while you lay there feeling like a drowsy princess.
But before you can get too sleepy, his hands find your thighs again, and he smiles down at you.
“Do you think I could give you one more? I can use my fingers.”
You bite your lip and nod, feeling giddy at the idea of getting to cum by him again, especially after already getting so worked up from him inside you.
He lays next to you like before, but instead of letting his fingers in, this time he focuses on your clit, watching your breathing slowly get more labored again.
You give him a few adjustments, until he figures out where to press to elicit the loudest moans out of you, and he keeps going with no intention to stop until you climax.
In addition to the steady strokes, a few tweaks to your nipple with his free hand and a wet suck of his mouth to your neck, and you’re cumming again. This time, you don't cover your mouth, letting him hear exactly what he’s doing to you.
When you’re finished, body trembling and exhausted, he immediately moves to cuddle you, peppering kisses on your forehead and temple.
“You're so perfect, I can't believe I got this lucky to be your first…” He pauses in his words to hold you tighter, suddenly feeling a surge of protectiveness. “I hope it went well for you like it did for me… I didn't hurt you or anything, right?”
“No, Leon. Trust me, I would've told you if you did,” you caress his cheek reassuringly before leaning in to kiss him again. “It was perfect. You are perfect.”
He smiles softly at that, feeling himself relax at your gentle assurance.
“I love you, baby. More than anything.”
“I love you too, Leon.”
Reaching a finger to boop his nose playfully, you can't help but tease in a playful tone.
“Can't wait to spend all summer learning how to be freaky together.”
He laughs sliding a palm down to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze.
daddy robby talking you through masturbation like he would teach a medical procedure at the hospital
“that’s it, baby, start very, very gently and very, very slowly.”
watching intently as you circle your clit with your slim fingers, giving you proud nods as you figure it out
“sensitive, isn’t it? keep touching it. try a few different angles to see what you like. you might like circles.” he murmurs as you play with it. he’s right, you do like circles. “just don’t touch it—
you gasp when it’s overly sensitive to touch your clit directly
“—like that,” he finishes, giving you a smile and an encouraging kiss. “keep going, touch yourself more on the clitoral hood”-he grabs your hand to guide you himself-“that part there. that’s better, isn’t it?”
watching your bare cunny get all wet and aroused for him as you squirm beneath him, going feral for it
“now insert two fingers… mmm, perfect. good girl. you’re doing great. you’ve got this, little one. we’ve got to get you ready for daddy” he loves teaching you how to fuck yourself on your fingers before he rails you with his big cock
omg brendon park x reader where the reader IS inexperienced, a virgin perhaps cuz #soami, and maybe they’re on a date and reader doesn’t go on a second date cuz she IS inexperienced and is like “we’re just not a good match since i’m inexperienced” and brendon is already down bad and.. reassures her? idk something like that im just projecting 😭
OMG. This could be such a good series let me like try a short one real quick rn. I need to see how this can play out but YES. You're on to something anon ily. Oh and this is not proofread, so lmk of any mistakes in here. So so so sleep deprived.
CW: MDNI 18+, suggestive content, smut probably, PinV, reader is a virgin/inexperienced but knows her stuff obviously, reader is AFAB and younger than Brendon (she's 25~, he's 37~, there's a larger age gap) some angst(???), this is going to get away from me so fast oh lord
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Brendon Park x Virgin+!AFAB!reader
It's not very pretty, Brendon finding out you're a virgin.
The dilemma comes after a night out with Brendon at The Yard on Fifth Avenue in Pittsburgh, where he'd taken you on a date right after your day shift at PTMC was over so you could finally swap those scrubs for a shimmery little dress and heels. It's the first date you two have been on since you met a year ago.
He's sweet—pulling out a chair for you when you're seated, a hand on your lower back, and he'd later pay the bill and drive you home. Home, where you two are making out before you can even punch the code into the door to your small apartment (you can thank god that you live alone). But you stop when you're against the wall of the entryway, and Brendon's holding you, those deep blue eyes full of confusion since you pulled him off of you.
"I.. Can I take a rain check for tonight?" It's quiet, the voice that comes out of you.
"A rain check?" Brendon is taken aback, letting you set your feet back on the floor. "..What? Why?"
Maybe it's just too much. This is the first date—is it normal for your date to be making out with you and ushering you to the bedroom like it's his last day on earth, when you don't even know enough about him? You spiral, and he must pick up on this because Brendon says your name.
"..We don't have to do this now," Brendon hums, putting your nerves at ease. It won't stop you from replaying this interaction over and over again in your mind when he's gone, though. It's that simple—you take the rain check, goodnights are exchanged, and all is well.
Until Monday.
Nobody likes a Monday. At 7 AM, you clock in for your shift in the ER, and Robby is already on your ass for different things. There are rounds, night shift hands over patients, all of it. It's around noon when things have slowed down a little for you, and you find yourself catching up on some charting at a desk near the nurses' station. While you don't understand Tagalog, you do understand the name "Brendon Park" and "Park the shark" coming from Princess and Perlah's animated conversation across your monitor. Luckily, Ogilvie seems to join the conversation, and they switch to whispered English for his sake. You keep your eyes on the chart, pretending not to listen.
"—I'm telling you, he had three last month alone."
Perlah snorts.
"Three? That's a slow month for Brendon Park."
A pause. Papers shuffle. Someone laughs under their breath.
"He doesn't date," Princess adds, dropping her voice like it's a secret that isn't a secret at all. "He cycles."
"Roster," Ogilvie corrects, amused. "Full roster. Like a starting lineup."
"Mhm. And he's picky too," Princess says. "Not just anyone makes the cut."
You try to focus on your screen. The cursor simply blinks back at you.
"He's intense," Perlah goes on. "Like... not the sweet, take-you-out-to-brunch type."
"No, he'll take you out," Princess laughs, "just don't expect breakfast after."
"Or sleep," Ogilvie mutters.
They chuckle a little at that.
"You ever seen him in the gym?" Ogilvie adds. "Man treats everything like a competition."
"That doesn't turn off," Princess says. "Not for him."
There's a beat.
"Why, you interested?" Perlah teases.
"Please," Princess scoffs. "I like my life peaceful."
Another pause, and you can barely hear Princess over the noise of the ER anymore—
"He doesn't repeat, either. Not unless it's convenient."
Those words land like an anvil, down your throat and into your stomach. You don't realize you've stopped typing until your screen goes idle, and the pixels have become "Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center."
That conversation weighs on your mind for the next two days, until Wednesday, at 3:14 PM, when Brendon texts you—
Brendon:
You working late tonight?
You:
Why?
Brendon
Wanted to see you again.
Properly this time.
Well, fuck. You're not even supposed to be here—sitting on a toilet seat lid in the women's bathroom of the ER, sneaking away like a teenager taking nudes or something. But you type. Delete. Type again.
You:
I don't think that's a good idea
Brendon:
Because?
You:I just don't think we're a good match
The anvil in your stomach feels like it's doubled in size.
Brendon:
You're gonna have to give me more than that.
You:
I'm not experienced
With sex, I mean
I'm a virgin.
I think you want someone who knows what they're doing, Brendon.
Brendon:
And you got that from one night?
You:
I got that from you
You debate telling him the next part, but your thumbs are faster.
You:
And from everyone else, apparently
Brendon:
You’ve been talking about me at work?
You:
I’ve been hearing about you
Brendon:
And that’s enough for you to decide?
You:
Isn’t it enough?
Brendon:
No
You don’t know me like that
If I wanted something easy, I wouldn't be texting you again
Its been seven minutes in the bathroom, you've certainly got Robby looking for you right now. But Brendon keeps typing.
Brendon:
You think I didn't notice that you were nervous last week?
You:
I don’t think I can be what you want
Really, Brendon
It takes a while for you to see his last message, because you've turned on the do-not-disturb mode on your phone. You don't see him after your shift ends because you took another exit out of the hospital.
Brendon:
You're wrong.
It all stings. You don't want to be his second choice. Or his third, fourth, fifth, or however many women have come before you by now. Brendon Park cannot be sweet. He cannot be the sweet man who takes your virginity, because apparently, he fucks anyone he wants, and he isn't capable of slowing down to love you.
You'll mourn this man until the early hours of the morning. Thankfully, you have today off, so nobody has to see you in this state—puffy eyes from sobbing your way through the night and spiraling, in your ratty pajama pants, a The Beatles T-shirt, and no bra, and—
Brendon Park is standing outside your apartment door with a bouquet of lilacs.
Your doom is inevitable, so you open the door almost as soon as he rings the doorbell.
Brendon exhales, like he's been holding it in the entire drive over. His eyes sweep over your features, and you know he's analyzing you. He's seeing the most raw, bare version of you. Drinking it in, almost. But his eyes don't look at you like you're another flower he wants to pluck on his roster, fuck, why is he looking at you like—
"I need you to hear me out." Too fast. Too direct. Very him—but there's something off about it. Less polished, maybe.
You shake your head immediately. "Brendon—"
"Five minutes." His voice drops. Not commanding, not like before. It's controlled, careful. "That's it. If you still want me gone after that, I'll leave."
You hesitate. He holds the flowers out, awkward now. Like he doesn't really know what to do with his hands.
"I don't—" he huffs out a breath. "I don't do this. You know that, apparently."
That almost makes you laugh.. almost.
"You showed up at seven in the morning," you say, and you take the lilacs. "I think I gathered that."
"Please," he says, quieter this time. That's what gets you. You step back, opening the door wider for him. "Five minutes."
He steps in, glancing around. He's curious. Intrigued. By you.
You don't invite him to sit. He doesn't sit anyway. You stay standing across from him with your arms crossed as he awkwardly shuffles his shoes off in the entryway. "Okay," you say. "Go."
He nods once, and the man looks nervous. "I know what people say about me."
No denial. No deflection. You don't respond.
"I know how it looks," he continues. "And I'm not gonna stand here and tell you it's all bullshit, because it's not." That surprises you. "I don't do relationships," He says. "Or—I didn't. It was easier. No expectations, no... anything complicated."
You swallow, gaze dropping to the lilac bouquet in your hand. They smell good. "Yeah," you murmur between sniffs. " I figured."
He steps a little closer. Not crowding you, but just enough to keep your attention. And you meet those deep blue eyes. "But that's not what this is." he says softly. His words are soft. You never thought he could be this quiet. Park the shark, they call him. This is not the same man.
You shake your head, a small, frustrated laugh slipping out. "You don't get to decide that, Brendon."
"I know," he says immediately. "That's why I'm here."
You pause.
"I don't get to decide it," he repeats, softer. "But you don't get to decide it for me either."
The silence stretches between you two; it's agonizing.
"You think I didn't know you're a virgin?" he asks.
Your head snaps up. "That's not—"
"I noticed," he cuts in. "The way you hesitated when we kissed. The way you kept thinking, like you left your body for a second."
Your face burns. Maybe he notices that, too.
"I wasn't judging you," he adds quickly. "I was trying to slow down."
"...You weren't very good at it." You blink at him.
Maybe your ears are tricking you, but you think you hear the faintest huff of a laugh.
“Yeah,” he admits, stepping closer. “I’m not used to it.”
“I would’ve stopped,” he says. “At any point. You just had to say it.”
“I did say it,” you whisper.
“And I listened.” he's right. It's so quiet. The sun is starting to shine through your living room curtains, spilling into the apartment slowly like thick honey.
“You think I want someone ‘easy’,” he says, voice lower now, less defensive. “Someone who already knows everything about sex.”
He watches you for a second before continuing—
“If that was true, I wouldn’t be here.”
Your throat tightens.
“I’ve got something at two,” he adds abruptly, almost like he’s reminding himself a little. “I don’t have time to stand here and bullshit you.”
There he is, Park the shark. But he's still softer at the core.
“I came here because I didn’t like how that ended,” he says. “And I don’t like that you think you’re not—” he exhales, searching for the word. “—worth the effort.”
“I didn’t say that,” you murmur.
“You didn’t have to.”
He’s close now. Not touching you, but he's close enough that you feel the whisper of his exhale from him breathing through his nose.
“You’re overthinking this,” he says quietly. “Everything.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“You are,” he counters, softer this time, and he cocks his head a little. “You decided how I feel without asking me once.”
“Then tell me,” you frown. “What do you want?”
There's no hesitation. “You,” he says simply.
“But on your terms,” he adds, quieter. “Not mine.”
His eyes flick down for a second, then back up to your eyes.
“Can I..” he starts quietly, then stops himself.
“…Yeah,” you whisper.
He closes the distance slowly.
Yeah. His lips fall into place on yours, and you almost want to kick yourself for giving in this quickly. Fuck.
Brendon leans into you, a hand at your back and one snaking between you to grab the lilacs and put them on the kitchen counter so you don't crush them when you pull him closer.
Surprisingly, it's you taking the lead this time. Not him. You guide him to your couch, gently shove him down, and straddle him. Your mouths are all over each other. He says your name gruffly. Once. Twice, and you look up at him.
It's obvious he's in need from the way that his erection pokes your cunt through the barriers of his jeans and your pajama pants. Your hand palms it, eyes never leaving his.
He says your name again, this time it's nearly a rasp. "Let me," he huffs. "Let me take care of you. Slowly."
You hum. "Slowly? Brendon—"
"Let me make love to you," Brendon takes your hand away from his crotch, but he never breaks eye contact with you.
"...You're sure you can—"
"Yes," Brendon huffs, "I can be slow. I can teach you. Please—"
You can't hide your grin, and this time you palm his erection through his jeans again, slowly pulling his fly down. He lets you. It's not the first time you've seen a cock—you're a doctor in the ER, you've seen it all—but it sure is large. And hard. It's leaking at the pink mushroom tip, where you run your thumb from the bottom of it, up to the top, and circle the leaking slit gently. Brendon rasps your name again, there's a short pause before he holds you to him and flips you underneath him.
To be fair, he said he could teach you. Your back is on the couch, Brendon is leaning over you—at this angle, you can see the way the morning sun hits his eyes, making them look like small lagoon pools.
"You're okay with this?" Brendon hums, and he kisses your wrist. His fly is still undone. You nod.
"Use your words, lilac." He says it so quietly that you almost miss it.
“Lilac,” you repeat. “Why that?”
“You flush,” he says, almost distracted. “Right here—” his thumb brushes your cheek, “—it’s not red. It’s… lighter.”
You stare at him.
“Lilac,” he finishes.
Brendon doesn't expect the fit of small giggles that escape you. He can't help but smile softly, and then his hands are under your shirt, palming your breasts gently. It feels so, so good.
"M'gonna to make love to you," he says quietly, helping you out of your shirt. There's a soft "yeah" that slips past your lips.
From there, his mouth is all over you again. He takes a pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucks. You can't help the moans that escape you. He's attentive—both breasts get his attention until they're slightly swollen, when Brendon moves down your ribs.
Almost counting them as he goes, you watch as he leaves a mix of soft and bruising kisses down your flank. It's so smooth, the way he slips your pajama pants and panties down your legs, dropping them down in a pile on your rug along with his own shirt and yours.
He finds your clit in a matter of seconds.
"S'that good?" It's almost mocking, but you know he doesn't mean it like that. Nodding, you're a moaning mess under him as he works his tongue deftly over your sensitive bud. He pauses slightly, slows down a little as he gently slots his middle and right fingers along your slit. Up, down, testing the waters, before finally gently coaxing a finger in your hole.
He mutters a soft "fuck" before pressing a gentle kiss to your clit and looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes, working his finger into you slowly.
He's incredibly attentive to where your sensitive spots are—when he finally gets his finger in your tight cunt, he makes a curling motion. Again, and again, again. Now his middle and ring fingers are deep in you, his mouth sucking your pretty nub so hard there's no way it won't bruise, and you break. Shattering back into his arms, which come up to hold you after you ride out your high. Brendon sucks on his fingers for a second, savoring the taste of your orgasm. It's not your first, but it was one of the best. For the first time, it wasn't your fingers or your vibrator getting you off.
You've been stripped of all your masks, shields, and armor. You're so bare in this moment, Brendon knows it. Maybe that's why he holds you to him for so long, wrapping you up in those beefy arms, your nipples are sensitive to the coarse hair on his pecs. It feels like Klimt's "The Kiss," it feels so... safe. This is the most vulnerable you've been with someone else in your life—physically, mentally, emotionally.
He tells you you're beautiful. You're his beautiful lilac, he hums, working to push his own jeans down while fighting to keep eye contact with you. He's kissing you, your wet cheeks, bare-faced and all raw for him.
"I'm going to put it in," Brendon says, kissing your breast. He's all over you, and now fully nude himself as he pumps his aching cock slowly. "Lilac,"
"Okay," your throat feels thick and congested.
It's a stretch. Of course, it's a stretch. You handled his member earlier, and it was large, but this feels so filling. Brendon looks pained, even, taking small and short thrusts to inch his way into you. The entire time, his hands never leave your body—they're on your ribs, breasts, or gently holding your cheek. It's not painful, maybe just uncomfortable for a second. His tip hits your cervix, and he bottoms out.
It's the closest anyone has ever been to you. Fuck. Brendon gives you some time to settle and stretch on his member. He's kissing you again, though you're unable to completely kiss him back through your moans, as his thumb is resting on your clit. Slow, careful circles. It feels so good.
"Let me know when I can start moving," Brendon murmurs, his eyes are full of reverence and love for you. Not in the way actors play people in love on TV, because this love isn't superficial; this love is real. This love is all yours, you realize, and you give him the go-ahead to move.
He's slow at first. In and out in short thrusts that barely graze your cervix and sweet spot. Agonizingly slow. You grin at him, "Faster, Brendon."
The pace picks up a little more. Your hands find his broad shoulders, and his hands are firmly holding your hips down. It ramps up again, and you can hear the squelches where your bodies connect.
"Doing so good," Brendon grunts, "So—Fuckin'—Fuck, you're so tight—" Though he moves faster, and this time he hits your G-spot and cervix. His tip starts kissing those amazing spots again, and again, and again, and you're a whimpering mess under him.
"Come for me," your name is a plea on his lips, "please, come—" Brendon's thumb finds your clit again, his other hand holds your hips in place as he pummels his cock into your cunt. Circle, circle, rub, changing the pressure of his thumb on your clit in a rhythmic pattern that your body craves.
You do as he says, your body convulses with the strength of an orgasm under him. Back off the couch, head thrown back, moaning in pure ecstasy. Hips meeting his, Brendon grunts through his last few sloppy thrusts.
His orgasm is just as beautiful as yours. Hot ropes of his come shoot through your channel in that moment, he digs his face into that juncture where your neck and collarbone meet.
"You're on the pill?" Brendon asks meekly, his voice rumbling through your body. He's still inside you.
You laugh. "Yeah. No surprises anytime soon."
Brendon kisses your cheek. "M'gonna pull out,"
Nodding, there's not a big stretch that makes it uncomfortable for him to pull out of you. But you catch the smallest whimper from Brendon's mouth as he does, because he's sensitive. He, too, is coming down from an orgasm.
Brendon lifts you to his chest, flipping you smoothly so that you're on top of him. He snatches the throw blanket off the arm of the couch, gently wrapping you both in it.
His hands are on your lower back and the back of your head as you snuggle into his chest, legs intertwined.
Brendon says something, but you can't remember. The two of you fall asleep like this. On your couch, the morning light spilling over you. It really is like The Kiss.
✧ tags: virgin reader, lotssss of teasing, oscar is kind of a menace, first time, oscar begs, aftercare, dirty talk, established relationship, thigh fuck!!, sex, pnv, unprotected sex
✧ yap: honestly haven't written smut in a bit so i hope this is enjoyable and good but i neeeeddeddd to write an oscar that begs to fuck so yeah! i hope y'all enjoy and please ignore any mistakes it's currently 3:25am lol
✧ word count: 6.2k
It started with a simple hand on your thigh.
Innocent, technically. You were curled up together on the hotel bed, lights dimmed aside from the table lamp, some half-forgotten Netflix show playing in the background. Oscar had his usual calm about him, an arm slung around your shoulder, the other tracing idle patterns along the bare skin on your thigh. Every movement left a trail of fire in its wake.
You weren’t naive, you knew exactly what he was doing. Oscar had a way of teasing that never felt overly dirty, but it always lingered, always left you feeling flushed, thighs pressed together. Words that didn’t cross a line, but danced right on the edge.
“You’re tense,” he said, voice low against your ear. His fingers had started to move, inching higher up your thigh, tracing a lazy path from your knee up through the inside of your thigh, only to trail back down before they got too far. “Something on your mind?”
You swallowed hard, eyes returning to the TV, attempting to focus again on the show. “No.”
He grinned like he didn’t believe you.
That was the thing with Oscar. He didn’t push, but he loved to see how close he could get before you’d squirm. And you always did, not because you didn’t want it, god no, but because you were still figuring this all out. You hadn’t been with anyone before him, at least not like this, and he knew that. And oh, was he so respectful about it.
Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a menace.
“You sure?” His head leaned down closer to you, breath skimming your neck, hand dipping just a little higher. Just enough to make your heart stutter.
You leaned into him instinctively, legs shifting against each other in the smallest, most telling motion, his smile widening against your skin as he placed a soft kiss against your neck.
“Oscar,” you warned, voice barely above a whisper, tone falsely threatening
“Hm?” He hummed innocently, nuzzling into your jaw, peppering light kisses, momentarily flicking his tongue across your skin. “I’m not doing anything.”
But he was, he always was. Maybe not always with his hands, but with the way he looked at you. Like he could see straight through every layer of hesitation, of nervousness, and he wanted to unravel it all, softly, slowly.
He was patient, too patient, and somehow that only made the waiting worse.
And hell if he stopped teasing you.
-‘๑’-
You were making a quick coffee the next morning, setting up a cup for Oscar’s tea as well, wearing his t-shirt and nothing else. The sun poured in through the hotel blinds, warm and soft, casting long golden lines across the dull colours of the hotel room. You didn’t hear him pad out from the bathroom, now barefoot behind you, his arms circling your waist.
“You always wear my shirts like that?” he murmured, voice husky with sleep, his head leaning down, his chin resting on your shoulder as he tucked his head into your neck.
“Like what?” You asked, stirring a pack of cream into your coffee.
“Like you’re asking for trouble.”
You rolled your eyes, flicking a pack of sugar before dumping that in as well. “It’s laundry day.” You excused.
Oscar chuckled against your neck, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. “We’re in a hotel.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed again, quietly and knowing, his hand grazing the bare skin of your thigh under the hem of his shirt, lifting it daringly. Lingering. He was far taller than you, his body nearly caging yours from behind as he was bending down towards you.
“You know,” he added, lips brushing just behind your ear now, your body shivering at his contact. “You could just say the word.”
You turned your head to get a better look at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “I thought you liked the anticipation.”
His mouth curled, “I love it, but don’t pretend it doesn’t drive you insane,” he teased, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.
Touche.
-‘๑’-
Later, you lay in bed, reading on your Kindle while Oscar mindlessly scrolled his phone next to you, one hand absentmindedly resting on your lower back. He liked to keep in contact, just enough to keep your body aware of him. It didn’t help that now and then, his fingers would trace small paths, sometimes grabbing you a little tighter. Always random enough to throw you off.
“You’re quiet,” he said, without looking up.
“I’m reading something,” You mumbled, mind focused on the warmth of his hand on your back.
“You’re flushed,” He said, finally glancing over.
“No, I’m not-”
He rolled over on top of you before you could finish, pushing your Kindle to the side, pinning you gently to the mattress, straddling your hips. “You think I don’t notice what I do to you?” He whispered, breath fanning your face as his eyes darkened.
His fingers hooked into the bottom of your shirt, well, his shirt, and lifted it slightly. His hands roamed the skin of your waist, hands warm and rough. “I think you like it when I take my time, darling.”
You shivered underneath him, hands coming up to rest on his neck, lightly playing with his hair. His weight on you, the soft graze of his thumb along your stomach, left your body squirming.
You exhaled shakily, “I hate you.”
He smirked before leaning down to kiss you, his lips latching onto yours roughly. You let out a whimper. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, tugging your lips open, his tongue slipping into your mouth hotly. His tongue swipes against yours as you whine, hands tugging his hair, Oscar groaning at the pull.
He pulls his head back, lips glossy and cheeks flushed as he began trailing kisses down your neck, wet and sloppy, sometimes pausing to suck a light mark into your skin.
“Osc,” You whimpered, tugging a little harder on his hair as he groaned, lips trailing lower, leaving a wet trail of kisses.
Reaching his head back up, he placed a light kiss on your lips before tapping your hip. His eyes were blown with want, his lips upturned deviously. “Alright, time for bed.” He spoke, your body slightly relaxing from disappointment, a teasing smirk covering his face.
You pouted at him, cheeks flushed bright red, lips bitten raw as he climbed off of you.
Calling him a tease was an understatement.
-‘๑’-
The next evening, you were both running late, on the brink of missing a team dinner with the grid. Your hair was still half done, dress zipped halfway, the strap nearly sliding off your shoulder as you finished your makeup, face as close to the mirror as humanly possible, trying to get the best possible liner wing.
Your mouth was slightly open, forming an ‘o’ as your hand shook a little. You saw Oscar come up behind you, his eyes looking at your reflection adoringly, a small smile stretching his face. You yelped quietly, feeling his hands grab the arch of your ass, rubbing over it a few times before resting one on your hip and the other still palming your ass.
You could see your cheeks redden at the action, feeling Oscar’s hips press against your backside, his arousal pressing into you. His eyes darkened as you watched him behind you, his eyes stuck on the shape of your hips in the dress, entranced.
You huffed out quietly, deciding the wing was the best it was going to get as you straightened up, pressing completely against Oscar as you put away your makeup.
His knuckles brushed the bare skin your unzipped dress exposed, sending a shiver down your spine as you bit your lip. “Need help?” He asked, full well knowing you did.
“Please,” You requested, tone soft and nervous. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, trailing a few further down as his hand slipped up towards the strap, gently pushing it off your shoulder. His knuckles trailed lower, nearing your tailbone, then back up again.
“I don’t know if I wanna zip it up,” He murmured, the strap of your dress sitting idly off your shoulder, threatening to fall completely.
“Oscar,” You warned, tone stern, knowing you both had somewhere to be.
He chuckled lowly, the sound thrumming through your chest. “Okay, okay.”
The zipper slid up slowly, torturously. His lips brushed against your shoulder as he brought the strap back up.
“You have no idea how hard you make it to behave,” he whispered, lips brushing against the back of your ear as you pushed your hips back against him, his hands tightening on you.
You swallowed, “Maybe that’s my goal,”
His hands paused at your waist before he let you walk away.
Barely.
-‘๑’-
You woke the next morning to his fingers tracing your arm. You’d fallen asleep tangled together, as usual, limbs warm and overlapping in a way that made it impossible to tell where you ended and he began.
“Do you ever think about it?” you asked softly, voice less than a mumble.
Oscar’s finger paused. “Think about what, darling?”
You turned over to face him, your voice quiet, a little nervous. “Us, that night. You know, when it does happen.”
He blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, “Every night.”
Your breath caught.
“But I don’t imagine it for me,” He added. “I imagine it for you. What you’ll need, how to make it not scary, how to make you feel good, how to make you want it again, what I can do for you.”
That was the thing about Oscar. Sure he could be cocky and shameless all day, but when it came down to you, the real thing, his teasing quieted.
He kissed your forehead lightly, “No rush, baby, I don’t mind. I’m ready whenever you are. I’ll wait.” He reassured.
You smiled, heart bursting, “Even if it drives you mad?”
He grinned, a huff coming out lightly. “That’s the best part, darling.”
-‘๑’-
Oscar had a sponsor event coming up, and of course, he had wanted you to be there. Your stylist had sent over a few options for you to try.
Oscar insisted he help you decide, and so you found yourselves sitting in the quiet hotel room after a long media day, cycling through dress options that were best fit for the event.
He watched intently, offering his opinions when he deemed necessary, ensuring he always complimented you regardless.
You stepped out in a navy dress, tight, strapless, and fairly short, cinching your waist in essentially accentuating your hips. You couldn’t even make it to the mirror to look at yourself.
Oscar’s gaze snapped to you, eyes dragging across every inch of your frame. He sat up slowly, inching towards the edge of the bed, jaw clenched. “No.”
You blinked, a hand running across your body, smoothing any wrinkles. You gave a slight twirl, presenting your backside to Oscar, a small look over your shoulder catching his eyes staring. “No?”
“You can’t wear that.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Why not?”
He stood up, walked over slowly, and circled behind you. “Because,” He murmured, mouth brushing your ear, “If you walk around in this, I’m going to get into a fight.”
You laughed, lighthearted, your head falling back slightly onto his chest. “You’re not the jealous type.”
“Not usually,” he said, voice low, his hand sliding up your thigh towards the hem of the dress. “But right now I’m thinking about how easy it would be to slide this dress up.” He teased, his fingers pushing up the hem of your dress, dangerously close to exposing you. “Or off. No zippers, no buttons.’
You bit your lip.
He smirked. “What’s wrong, baby?”
You glared at him through the mirror, watching his hand roam your hips in the reflection. “I hate you,” you tried, your knees slightly wobbling when you said it. He tugged the edge of your dress, completely exposing you. His foot pushed your ankle, spreading your legs a little as your breath caught.
“I don’t think you do, baby.” He said quietly, fingers grazing your inner thigh, seeing your arousal drip down slightly, his fingers catching it as he rubbed his fingers against your core teasingly. Your body shook, feeling his rough fingers spread your arousal.
“You knew what you were doing. Knew I’d lose my mind the second I saw you in this, or that I’d want to ruin it, didn’t you?” He teased his finger teasing your entrance softly as he lightly fucked his fingers into you, your knees buckling, his arms around your waist being the only thing keeping you up. You whimpered, he was giving you enough to tease you, but not enough to actually feel good just yet.
“Osc,” You whined out, body buckling from pleasure as he held you up, his fingers hitting a spot deep inside you.
“Take it so well, can’t wait to see how you fit me, baby.” He teased, quickening his pace, your stomach tightening. “Look at yourself.” He demanded, his other hand reaching up around to grab your throat, not so hard that it was painful, but enough to limit the air to your lungs, brain fogging at the intensity.
You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushed red, eyes blown wide with need, tears brimming in them from pleasure. Your lips were parted, breathy and glossy. Oscar’s hand looked obscene around your neck, veins bulging as he tightened slightly. His eyes were dark, glazing over your body wantingly.
The sounds of your arousal mixed with gasps and whines as Oscar continues mumbling sweet nothings encouragingly to you brought you closer to your release. His fingers slowed, teasing, pulling out before slowly fucking back into you, your mind dizzying at the stretch.
“Oscar, please,” You begged, needing just a bit more. He chuckled from behind you, placing a soft kiss on the back of your head, his fingers plunging deeper, hitting exactly where you needed, a breathless moan escaping your throat as you crumbled. Your body clenched, writhing against Oscar, and he slowly eased his fingers out, a teasing pump making you whine.
You exhale a breath, body slumping as he circles his arms around you, pulling the dress down to cover you. “You did so well, darling.” He praised, kissing the top of your head, mumbling ‘I love you’s’ into your hair as you caught your breath.
“Now you definitely can’t wear this dress or else I’m gonna spend all evening thinking about doing that,” He mumbled, placing one last gentle kiss against your head as he tapped your bum. You lightly slapped his arm jokingly, walking towards the bathroom to change back into your clothes for bed.
You heard Oscar chuckle behind you as he watched your legs tremble slightly from the aftermath of his actions.
A menace.
-‘๑’-
It had been a hectic day, lots of physical activities, and simply exploring the city with a few of the other drivers’ girlfriends. Tennis, a bike ride along the boardwalk and coast, a pretty hike and picnic, and my god, so many pictures.
You had come back home to Oscar in the shower, the sound of water running mixed with the heat of the bathroom making the home feel cozier. After changing, your body needed a stretch to loosen all its muscles. You heard the shower turn off as you nearly flopped onto the floor in your bedroom. You laid out a few dynamic stretches, letting your body relax, sighs of relief leaving your mouth. You stood up, bending forward, your hands reaching for your toes, hamstrings burning at the pull.
You closed your eyes, exhaling a deep breath as you heard the bathroom door open, footsteps padding closer. As you go to stand up, a hand steadies itself on your lower back, pushing your body back down as Oscar pushes against you.
You immediately regretted the choice of stretch, vulnerable and exposed. He straddled your legs from behind, his other hand gripping your waist.
“Need help?” He asked, far too innocently, for the way his hands were roaming your hips and his hips were pushing against you.
“No,” You stuttered out quickly, unsuccessfully attempting to push yourself back up.
“Adjust your posture. Back straight, hips forward.” He instructed, his voice breathy. “Breathe, baby.”
You nearly died on the spot.
“I’m trying to stretch,” You muttered, muscles tensing up as your heart hammered against your chest.
“I’m helping,” He said, fingers splaying wide against your back. “This is very technical work.”
Momentarily, you ground your hips back into him, Oscar groaning at the movement. “You’re the worst.” You mumbled, a smile still evident in your tone.
“Correct,” He chuckles, “but look how deep you’re stretching now.” He spoke, his tone sultry with innuendos.
You couldn’t even respond, just exhaling exasperatedly. He knew exactly what he was doing.
He always did.
-‘๑’-
It was a particularly hot day this weekend in Miami. You were sitting on a curb outside the garage, licking a near-melting ice cream cone while Oscar stood next to you, sipping water. It was a few hours before free practice 2, his suit undone, sitting at his hips as his fireproof clung to his body.
He watched you for a second too long.
“Baby,” He sighed, cheeks lightly flushed from the heat or the sight of you.
You looked up at him, eyes alight with energy.
“You can’t eat it like that.” He groaned, tone almost a warning.
You blinked at him, taking another slow lick before asking, “Like what?”
He raised a brow, arms crossing against his chest. “You’re lingering, it’s obscene.”
You rolled your eyes, mind revelling at how easily you could also get him riled up. “It’s just ice cream.”
He sat down, leaning in close to you, his voice low, meant for only the two of you. “It was ice cream. Now it’s a public indecency charge.”
You took an extra slow lick, simply to spite him, your eyes not leaving his. Oscar made a strangled noise, running a hand over his face and looking away. “You’re going to kill me.” He said, voice muffled by his hands.
“Good,” you said, smiling at him as if you hadn’t just made him hard.
He reached a hand out, swiping a bit of melted ice cream from the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate. His thumb dragged just enough to make your stomach drop a little, heart pounding.
“You missed a spot.” He said, eyes heavy as he brought his thumb to his mouth, suckling the ice cream off, eyes glued to yours.
Your breath hitched at the sight, his tongue swiping over the pad of his thumb momentarily. You didn’t speak for a full minute after that.
-‘๑’-
You were sitting on the floor in front of a mirror, testing a few different hairstyles for fun. It had been a slower day, Oscar mostly out training for the day, as you stayed at home. He wandered in a bit later, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He leaned against the doorframe, simply admiring you as you fiddled with your hair.
After a while, he walked over, squatting down behind you, placing a soft kiss on the back of your head. He twirled a finger through your hair before gathering it whole in his hands.
“So pretty like this,” He said softly, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Then he leaned closer, voice warm against your ear. He tightened his hold, pulling your head back slightly as your breath hitched at the pull.
“D’you ever think about what I’d do if I had your hair in my hands like this for another reason, baby?” He asked, tone deep, vibrating through your chest as your heart pounded against your ribs.
You nearly choked on your breath, cheeks flushing.
He just walked out, satisfied with himself at the red on your face.
-‘๑’-
The hotel room was quiet, the low hum of traffic and the soft rustling of bedsheets filling the room. You weren’t asleep, nor was he.
Oscar was lying on his side, one arm tucked neatly under his head, the other resting gently across your waist, a comforting weight. His mouth was warm against your neck, trailing slow, reverent kisses.
Your shirt had long since been pushed up, panties pushed aside as his hands roamed your body as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands were everywhere, on your hips, your thighs, the sides of your neck. He kissed you as though he was trying to keep it gentle, but you felt it, his control hanging on by a thread.
He pushed himself up and on top of you, his weight welcome and warming, as his lips found yours, tongue desperately swiping over yours as you whimpered, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other trailing down his chest towards his waistband.
His hips bucked forward, your fingers pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, his cock springing up, flushed and aching as your hand pumped him. You spread your thighs a little, feeling Oscar nibble on your lip before smoothing it over with his tongue. Your hand trailed back up his abs, nails lightly scratching along his body as he groaned.
His hips pressed forward, and you felt it, him. Hard against you, not inside, but nestled perfectly between your thighs, slightly coated in his arousal mixing with yours. The thin friction, skin on skin, made you gasp. He lifted his head from yours, eyes watching your face as he pushed his hips.
You clenched your thighs, wanting to make Oscar feel good too as he moaned. This, by far, had been his favourite way to get both of you off without crossing any lines. He bucked his hips, groaning at the wet slide between your thighs.
He exhaled shakily, forehead pressing to yours, his eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck.” He let out breathily as you looked at him, wide-eyed and cheeks flushed.
You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails slightly digging into him as his name spilled from your lips. You felt his warmth slide against your core, body begging for him.
He rocked slowly, getting used to feeling as you clenched a little tighter, his hips faltering a little.
You nearly fell apart watching him stutter.
He shuffled back, sliding off his sweatpants and boxers, dropping them off the side of the bed as his hands stumbled to throw off your t-shirt. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling it higher to rest upon his waist as his hips moved again, slow and controlled, dragging the full weight of his want between your legs, watching your arousal coat him.
He groaned, eyes locking with yours as he spoke, “You feel…” he whispered, teeth grazing your jaw. “So fucking soft, baby, unreal.” He continued, voice shaky with need.
You moaned softly, back arching. It was overwhelming, but you craved it. Every press of his hips sent sparks ripping through your spine. Although he wasn’t inside, it felt like he was claiming every inch of you anyway.
“Fuck baby, please,” He begged, although you weren’t quite sure for what. “Please let me fuck you, please I-” He exhaled, his voice whiny as you moaned his name. “Need to fuck you.”
Your heart pounded, nails clawing up his back as his cock throbbed between your thighs, your arousal’s mixing messily. “Oscar…”
“Please, you feel so-” he gasped, hips rutting into yours especially hard, “so warm, so fucking perfect.”
His tip slid between your folds, catching at the entrance momentarily as it slid, you whimpered at the feeling. He placed a shaky kiss to your lips, shuddering at the feeling.
You moaned softly, eyes blown wide with want as you watched Oscar huff with need. His mouth hovered over yours, hot breath spilling across your lips. “All I can think about is how good you’d feel around me.”
You whined softly, you were right there with him, burning up with need.
He kissed you, hard and messy, full of want. He pulled back, his face looking as though he was breaking.
“Please,” He breathed. “Let me fuck you,” He begged, his voice raw and torn.
You stared up at him, breathless, heart pounding in time with his.
“I want it,” You whispered, his eyes closing at the words, a low groan rumbling from his chest. He exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for months.
“Say it again,” He begged.
“I want you.” You whimpered.
He kissed you again, slow this time, like the desperation from before was folding into something deeper. He leaned his forehead against yours, one hand trailing down between your thighs, the other cupping your check like he was in awe of your words.
His fingers slipped between your thighs, pumping lightly, your thighs dripping with arousal as his eyes caught sight. You groaned at the slight stretch, heart clenching with nerves. He
“I’ve got you,” He reassured, noticing the worry on your face. His fingers curl, hitting a deep spot, body arching at the feeling before he slid them out. He spread the arousal across himself, pumping his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.
“You’re everything,” He spoke, tone soft as he pushed in. Just the tip, your breath hitched, and he did too. His mouth fell open, eyes squeezed shut like the sensation wrecked him instantly. The stretch was unreal, your body shuddering.
“Shit,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You feel-” he groaned as you clenched around him. “Fuck, baby.”
He hadn’t moved yet, simply just held it there, letting you adjust, watching you carefully through blown pupils and clenched teeth, his tip pulsing inside you.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing a soft thumb over your cheek.
You nodded, words caught somewhere in your throat, “Yeah.” You let out breathily, eyes brimming lightly with tears. Oscar bent down, kissing your forehead then your nose, then your lips, soft, slow and grounding. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered. “Tell me if you need anything.” He spoke, gently and caring.
You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body closer as you curled your leg a bit tighter around his waist in response.
That was all he needed.
He pressed in deeper, the stretch making your head spin as he slid in, inch by inch, until he was fully there. Oscar breaths landed heavy into your neck, one hand on your waist and the other gripping the sheet beside your head like it was the only thing keeping him together.
“God,” he groaned, “You’re fucking soaked, dripping all over my cock.” He spoke, the words making your tummy turn. You were clinging to him, gasping softly, overwhelmed by how close he was, how he fit like he was meant to. You could hear the slick drag of him between your thighs.
He rocked his hips gently, rolling in slow careful waves. Not hard, not fast. Just intentionally, every motion is a promise. You moaned softly, body arching up into his, matching the rhythm.
“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, “You’re okay. You’re perfect, so perfect, baby.” He reassured, his tone gentle with love.
You tighten your grip around his back, feeling his cock throb inside of you, vision blurring at the feeling of him pumping inside you. “Oscar, fuck.”
“I’ve got you,” he breathed again, one hand tangling in your hair, holding your forehead to his. “You’re mine baby, I’ve got you.” His words emphasized with a thrust.
“More,” You whimpered out brokenly. His thrusts quickened slightly, the sound of your arousal and skin slapping against each other fucking filthy in the air.
Your head spun at the feeling of him, nails scratching along his back as he whispered sweet nothings. “Fuck you feel so good, you’re so tight.” He whined head falling to your shoulder as he fucked into you. “Gripping me like you were made for me.”
“You’ve fucking ruined me,” Oscar groans, hips rocking into you. He angles his hips, hitting a better angle as you whimper. You’re babbling at him, lips bitten raw as you look at him, eyes blown to filth.
You clench around him, your body needing release. And fuck, Oscar nearly cums feeling you tighten around him. “Look at yourself, baby. Clenching around me like you’re fucking desperate for this, hm?” He teased, sitting up slightly as he fucked into you, watching your body rock up with each thrust. His hand reached up, thumb tweaking over your nipple as you whimpered.
He hissed through his teeth. “You feel that, baby? Right there?” He spoke, hand pressing down against your lower stomach, the pressure making your chest ache. You cry out, feeling his cock bulge inside you. You whimpered, nodding desperately.
He buried his face in your neck, breath hot and shaky. “You’re fucking melting around me. So wet-” He swore, voice shaking as he groaned. “I can feel everything.”
His hips snapped into you, rougher now, and the sounds it made, skin on skin, soaked and absolutely filthy, only made you clench harder. Oscar exhaled, grabbing your hips to keep you where he wanted you, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.
“You like it when I fuck you like this?” he growled, teeth dragging against your skin. “Like I can’t help myself?”
You moaned, arching beneath him, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, fuck Osc, please.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes glassy and dark and completely undone. “Open your eyes, darling, look at me. I want to see your face when you come.” He demanded, your stomach churning at his tone.
You did, barely able to keep your eyes open as he slammed into you, again and again, hitting that perfect spot, your tummy bulging at how fucking well he was filling you. Your body went tight, heat building until it snapped.
You shattered under him with a strangled cry, legs trembling, your cunt clenching around him so hard it made him swear, loud and filthy.
“Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby, just like that. You’re so fucking good”
You were still fluttering around him, overstimulated and gasping as Oscar’s thrust slowed slightly. His pace stuttered, hands flying to your thighs to hold you open as he drove in deeper.
“Where- fuck, where do you want it?” he gasped, barely coherent. “Tell me where you want me, baby. I’m not gonna last, fuck, I’m so close.” He begged, his thrusts getting sloppier.
You clenched impossibly tighter, a tear spilling from your eye as you whispered, “Inside, I wanna feel it.” you whimpered.
That broke him.
Oscar let out the filthiest sound you’d ever heard from him, a half groan, half moan, as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep, his whole body going rigid as he came with a choked moan against your mouth.
You felt it. Every hot pulse, deep and perfect, his cock filling you with warmth.
He didn’t move at first. Just held there, twitching inside you, breath heavy, chest heaving against yours. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours.
He kissed you then, slow, open-mouthed, filthy, and tender all at once. And when he finally pulled out, you gasped at the loss, feeling disappointingly empty. “You’re perfect.”
He looked down at you, watching himself drip out from between your thighs, and let out a shaky laugh. “Look at you, fucking filthy baby. Look at what I did to you.” He said, running his finger through the slick mess between your legs pushing it back into you as you whine.
He leaned in again, kissing your shoulder, dragging his lips down your chest lovingly before whispering, “You’re mine now, every fucking inch.”
You whimpered, hips twitching at the pressure. “Oscar-” you gasped.
“You think I can stop now?” He growled, voice low and rough, his body sliding down against yours. “When you’re this wet, this open for me, when I can see what I’ve done to you?”
He sat back a little, spreading you open again. He knelt between your legs, eyes fixed between them, lips parted like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to ruin you with his fingers of his mouth.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. “You let me know if it’s too much okay, baby?” He reassured, his eyes hungry with want.
He dipped his head and licked a striped through the mess he left inside you, groaning low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you.
You sobbed, a hand flying to grip the sheets, the other threading through his hair, body jolting at the overstimulation.
“You taste like me,” he said, almost smug, tongue dragging over you again. “So fucking sweet, how the fuck am I supposed to be gentle, hm?” His eyes running over your body hungrily, peering up at you from between your legs.
His hands pinned your thighs wide as he sucked your clit into his mouth, rough and hungry, pure filthy, wet, need.
You were already close, too close. “Oscar, I- please,” Your voice cracked, hips bucking up.
“Yeah baby,” he groaned into you, “I know, gimme another darling. Let me hear how pretty you sound with my cum still dripping out of you.”
That pushed you straight over. You came hard, again. Your whole body shaking, breath catching on a scream as he worked you through it with his tongue and fingers, relentless and soaked.
He pulled back only when your thighs were twitching, lips slick and shining, eyes glazed with lust.
He looked wrecked.
And hard again.
“Turn over,” he said, voice hoarse, wrecked and commanding. You blinked at him breathless.
He reached down, slapping your ass once, just enough to make you jump. “On your knees. I’m not done with you.” a tone of ferality to him.
You obeyed, barely able to hold yourself up, Oscar’s arm coming around your waist to support your body. He lined himself up behind you, dragging his cock through your folds teasingly,
“Gonna fuck you one more time okay, baby?” he groaned, hand gripping your hip like a vice. “And you’re gonna take it.”
You moaned, shameless and needy.
“Such a good girl,” he whispered, voice strained, “Opening up for me again, you’re mine.” You nodded, barely able to breathe.
“Say it.” He commanded, sliding into you slowly.
“I’m yours,” you gasped, face falling onto the pillows.
“That’s right,” he muttered darkly, sliding in and out, deeper and rougher, more possessive now. Filthy, and in love, and completely fucking obsessed.
And it was quite safe to say he didn’t stop until you were crying into the pillows, shaking, and ruined all over again.
“You okay?” he asked, your body collapsing forward into the pillows, legs trembling, heartbeat still fluttering somewhere in your throat. Your body felt wrecked in the best way, used, filled, warm.
You barely registered the sound of the sheets rustling behind you until you felt Oscar’s hands on your hips again, softer this time, thumbs pressing light circles into your skin.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice rough from the use, but gentle now. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”
He eased out you slowly and carefully, you winced at the loss. Oscar leaned forward, kissing the top of your spine, then the back of your shoulder, his lips lingering. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, baby.”
He disappeared for a moment, you heard the tap running, the sound of a warm cloth being wrung out, then he was back, sinking onto the bed beside you, gently coaxing you onto your back.
His eyes flicked across your body, his work. The redness on your thighs, the marks on your neck, the mess between your legs.
He swallowed hard.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said softly, in awe. “Completely mine.” You shivered at his words.
“Too much?” he asked immediately, eyes snapping up to yours, alert. “No.” you whispered, “Not even close.” A small smile crossing your face.
Relief washed across his face, and he kissed you, without any hurry. His hand cradling the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, you leaned into him, your body aching but weightless now, as if everything inside you had finally settled.
He cleaned you gently, his touch light but focused, whispering quiet apologies every time you flinched.
When he was done, he pulled you straight into his arms, blankets pulled up, limbs tangled. You tucked yourself into his chest, cheek against his warm skin, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heart.
He kissed your forehead, then again, and again, like he couldn’t stop.
“You okay?” he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper now.
You nodded into his neck. “I’m fantastic.” you let out lightly.
His arms tightened around you. “I love you.” he murmured, burying his face in your hair. You smiled, half-asleep already. “I love you.” you mumbled happily.
There was a long pause. Just the two of you, breathing together.
“You know I’m never letting you out of this bed again, right?” he whispered. “Like… we live here now.”
You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You say that now.”
“I mean it,” he mumbled, already pulling you impossibly closer. “You’ve got me obsessed.”
And with your body against his, the smell of skin, sweat, and something softer between you, you fell asleep with him wrapped completely around you. Safe, warm, and entirely his.
