tinycryingsnail

Latest Posts by tinycryingsnail

LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door. 

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.

note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often. 

Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you. 

A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality. 

But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run. 

Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty. 

But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok. 

He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay. 

It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff. 

Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship. 

Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it. 

You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile. 

He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it. 

He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together. 

And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested. 

It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion. 

An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours. 

His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water. 

You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you. 

And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last. 

“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.” 

Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of. 

You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.” 

Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you. 

Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common. 

All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you. 

And it no longer shall. 

If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life. 

“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.” 

And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps. 

You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch. 

So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself. 

But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up. 

Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service. 

The first kind thing he’s ever done for you. 

He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take. 

You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore. 

You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening. 

You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were. 

And the process soaks your panties. 

So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore. 

“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches. 

He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age. 

And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you. 

Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea. 

You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste. 

“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him. 

It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex. 

“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you. 

He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.” 

The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about. 

The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body. 

And you might as well give him what he asks of you. 

Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them. 

“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours. 

He didn’t expect that. 

Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly. 

Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.” 

The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.

If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you. 

And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable. 

He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet. 

Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over. 

The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better. 

Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him. 

And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now. 

“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.

Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back. 

The man likes feet.

You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you. 

And you let his following question consume you just as much. 

“Were you in love with him?” 

It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out. 

No need for long nights of overthinking. 

No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.

“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?” 

Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst. 

“What’s it to me?” 

There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers. 

Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him. 

“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face. 

A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore. 

How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin? 

You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation. 

“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?” 

He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it. 

“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.” 

He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.” 

He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about. 

And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back. 

“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?” 

He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?” 

Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will. 

“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.” 

What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead? 

A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment. 

How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick. 

“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer. 

“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.” 

He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.” 

The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety. 

But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release. 

A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.” 

Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.” 

Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak. 

He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”

You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.” 

He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt. 

Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at. 

The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water. 

And you do. 

He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out. 

“Did you cry for him?” 

Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.

“Stop fucking—”

Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?” 

Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.” 

He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.” 

And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his. 

The life in you throbs. 

His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that. 

“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.” 

You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again. 

“Touch it, please.” 

Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged. 

He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain. 

Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing. 

And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him. 

Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.” 

He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants. 

You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with. 

Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally. 

“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.” 

You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume. 

Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit. 

And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body. 

And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it. 

You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away. 

He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.” 

Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”

He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out. 

“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him. 

There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once. 

“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”

He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.” 

He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity. 

He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?” 

You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off. 

And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth. 

Your poor heart skips a beat. 

“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?” 

He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you. 

Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.” 

You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils. 

“That’s so hot.” 

He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.” 

Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his. 

And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too. 

And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle. 

“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.” 

He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon. 

You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty. 

Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.” 

“Then, have it.”

And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” 

You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—

“Lay back down.” 

You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.” 

Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.” 

Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it. 

“I want that so bad.” 

He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.” 

You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him. 

“I didn’t bring any condoms.” 

You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.” 

Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing. 

“I’ll give you a big load.” 

You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.” 

Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face. 

“Good girl. Such good manners.” 

And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime. 

“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.” 

Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.

“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity. 

He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.

“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin. 

“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.

And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you. 

“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.” 

Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish. 

“Say that again.” 

Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.

“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one. 

“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out. 

But only one thing is clear. 

“I’m yours.” 

And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp. 

Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg. 

“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.” 

And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines. 

Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him. 

Blood-hot. 

And you feel as though you deserved every drop. 

Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see. 

Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning. 

They cease to exist. 

You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—

“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?” 

His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him. 

But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head. 

“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.” 

He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again. 

Again and again. 

Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb. 

And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world. 

Hoseok is that life. 

And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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OG Shadow and Amy Rose voice actors autographed funkopop! For the Ship!

Happy Valentine's Day~! 2025

Cowboy & Piggy

Story Summary -> No, Adrian had not been crushing on his colleague. That's just, like, not true in the slightest. It's not as if the moment she became available, he said something he could never take back.

Tags -> Idiots in Love, Violence, Fluff, Fights, Butt Dialing, Break Up, References to Supernatural (TV 2005), Identity Reveal, Co-workers, Self Confidence Issues, Punching, Smut

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Fennel Fields wasn't a good restaurant. It didn't have the funding franchise restaurants do, nor did it have the homegrown passion of a family-owned business. It just existed to make money for the boss, who wasn't even there most of the time. The food was cheap and unhealthy and often covered in cheese, so whoever was eating it was far more focused on that cheesy goodness than the fact that the meatballs tasted a fair bit like horse.

All of the employees were underpaid and underappreciated by their bosses, so why the hell did Adrian Chase work there? As of late, he'd been earning a steady income thanks to Task Force X so it wasn't a financial decision. It wasn't to conceal his identity either - if anything, he'd almost revealed his secret at Fennel Fields too many times to count. Why, oh why, did he work a menial job with an awful wage when it mainly consisted of being ordered around and shouted at by customers and managers alike?

Well, he wouldn't get to see Y/N if he left.

The best part of his day was when she rushed through the double glass doors and, as soon as she looked up to find him standing at the counter, she'd do a little half smile and greet, "Hi Ade, how late am I today?" He'd check his watch and tell her the exact time, often adding a little comment like 'it's your new record', or 'not as late as yesterday', or 'you missed the bus, didn't you?' Adrian was down bad. He memorised her shifts whenever the rota was posted and swapped so she wouldn't have to go too long without his presence. It was stupid and a little stalkerish, but it kept him going.

Half - if not more than that - of all of his shifts were spent watching her with big puppy dog eyes, just admiring from across the room as she worked. It was pathetic, he knew that. And even if he didn't know that, their other coworkers were more than willing to point it out to him.

"Drooling over Y/N again?" Taylor jeered as he slapped Adrian on the back of the head to snap him out of the trance he'd been in ever since she started bending over a table to clean it. Hey, she had a great ass! Was he supposed to not look? It's human nature to look.

"Ah, no. No, no, no, of course not. I wouldn't... I don't..." He spluttered helplessly, flustering himself into an even deeper blush at the implications. "We are just friends. Pals. Buddies. Y'know, all platonic and shit."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Sure." He said sarcastically, unaware that Y/N had walked up to them at the moment he teased, "You're a lost cause, man. I'd give up. She'll never like you. You're, uh... you."

"That's not very nice." Y/N gave Taylor a stare that told him exactly what she thought about his comment and turned to Adrian, placing her palm gently on his forearm as she assured him, "Any girl would be lucky to have you, cowboy."

He smiled shyly and nodded, feeling incredibly grateful for her words because they'd given him some kind of hope that the thought of them, yeah, maybe it wasn't so outlandish. She thought he was dateable. Maybe not dateable for her, but at least she saw enough qualities within him that she believed he had the ability to be dateable to someone. And if he was cool enough in her eyes to get a nickname like 'cowboy', there must be someone else who thought the same and was available.

Though, the term had come from their first shift together when Adrian got so nervous meeting her and his mouth decided to talk about the movie 'Cowboys and Aliens' the entire time. By the end of the day, she may not have known his name, but she did know that Robert Downey Jr was originally set to be the lead but there were scheduling difficulties because he was filming on the 2nd Guy Richie Sherlock Holmes movie and had to be replaced by Daniel Craig.

The next time they worked together, Y/N tried to get Adrian's attention but couldn't since he'd never told her his name. So, she called out, "Cowboy guy!" and, surprisingly, Adrian turned around. He pointed to himself as if to say, 'Me?' and came running as soon as she nodded.

"You didn't tell me your name." She tilted his name tag so she could read it. "Adrian."

"That's me."

"That's you, cowboy."

That, as they say, is history. Not only did a hot girl give him a nickname, but she continued to seek him out whenever the job got boring and she wanted someone to talk to. Or someone to ramble on and on about useless stuff at her. Adrian was that guy™️.

"Come on, Y/N. Don't give him false hope." Taylor remarked with a sly smile. "The girl he's drooling over is way, way out of his league."

Whatever Y/N had planned to do was cut short. She stopped in place.

"I didn't know you liked anyone." Her head tilted as she surveyed Adrian's entire flushing face. "I thought you told me everything?"

That was mostly true. Adrian did have a habit of spilling his guts to Y/N. So far, there had only been two things that he managed to keep under wraps - his secret identity and his secret crush - yet every other thought he had, she had been told about it.

"I, uh, I.. I gotta keep some cards to close my chest." Adrian mumbled out, glancing away before continuing, "But, uh, it's okay, y'know. She doesn't like me like that."

Scoffing, Taylor confirmed, "No, she certainly doesn't." Y/N slapped his arm for being so rude, so he was quick to justify himself by adding, "She's got a boyfriend, doesn't she, 'cowboy'?" and left the kitchen as quickly as he could.

As much as it killed him to say, yes, Y/N had a boyfriend. He was cool and handsome and a total dickhead. That wasn't Adrian's jealousy talking; Steve was just like all the jocks that had beat up Adrian in high school - all macho and womanising - and if he had to try to quantify how many times Steven had cheated on Y/N, Adrian wouldn't even begin to know what two-digit number to guess.

Y/N sighed, "Oh, I'm sorry, that sucks. There's plenty more fish."

"Yeah... Maybe. I don't know." Adrian shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant about it as he possibly could - he probably wasn't very convincing given that she was still looking at him with so much sympathy on her face - and he didn't feel like elaborating further. "How's Steve? Is he coming in today?"

The quick change of topic was noted by Y/N, yet she simply replied, "Nope!"

"Oh?"

"Told him not to. If you do see him though, tell me so I can hide."

"Why'd you wanna hide from your boyfriend?" He wondered out loud curiously, tilting his head as he examined her. Then, his eyes went wide as he realised what he'd said. "Shit, don't answer that. Unless you want to. It's up to you. Obviously. You can tell me if you want to. Not that you should. You can. I want to know. Not in, like, a creepy way, but in a 'I'm your friend and I'm here for you' way..."

He proceeded to spiral into a nervous ramble that overexplained everything and had at least 4 completely irrelevant tangents, none of which made any sense whatsoever, while Y/N stared at him in amusement. His words were coming out at a mile a minute, and they just kept coming, and she had learnt that it was best if she just waited for his breath to run out.

His rants always went in a weird direction. And unlike other people, Y/N liked his weirdness. It was her favourite thing about him. Well, that and his dimples. Or how easy it was for him to make her laugh. Or that mole on his cheekbone. Or the way he'd push up his glasses with his middle finger and forget that he was technically flipping her off, only to realise and purposefully flip her off playfully.

Or his biceps, which she hadn't seen often as he usually kept to baggier, unflattering clothes, but she had seen them once when a customer spilt their drink on her and she hadn't brought a spare top. Adrian had offered his cardigan to her, and she finally got a small glimpse of what he looked like underneath it. It's safe to say she was impressed.

Adrian was cute when he was rambling - he was always cute, but especially so when his brain had no control over his mouth - so all Y/N could do was to beam at him and softly laugh every time he'd start to babble nonsense. After a few minutes, his breathing finally calmed down; he blinked twice, cleared his throat, took a few deep breaths, then looked up at her.

Thanks to his rant and how wildly he gestured, his glasses were slightly crooked on his nose. Y/N fingers hovered by his ears as she scrutinised his glasses and tilted them back into place and gently brushed her fingertips through the hair just above his ear so it wasn't so unruly. Adrian swallowed. It was an audible gulp that caught Y/N's attention, and she met his eye.

He seemed somewhat uncomfortable, so Y/N was blurting out, "Sorry, cowboy. I should've asked before I did that. Consent and all, y'know?" to apologise and smooth things over.

"You can touch me whenever you want to."

Shit. That was a little too obvious. 'You can touch me whenever you want to'? That's what his mouth came up with? In his head, it sounded innocent enough, but as soon as it left his lips, he scrunched his eyes up in embarrassment. That is not something you say to a girl with a boyfriend.

A blush came to Y/N's cheeks. She knew he was awkward and often said things without thinking before they came out. He hadn't intended that sentence to sound the way it did, she was aware, but there was a hint of hope that maybe, just maybe, he did mean it exactly as he said it.

"I'll, I'll be sure to remember that next time I invade your personal space," she joked with a sheepish smile.

All of a sudden, doing the washing up became very appealing to Adrian. He needed to be doing something; he needed to have something to split his focus in order to remain in one piece. Any more slip-ups with Y/N and he would become a mess. He made a big deal of turning the tap on and squidging far too much washing-up liquid into the sink.

The sound of the rusty pipes and gushing water almost overwhelmed Y/N's voice as she uttered, "Steve and I, we, uh, broke up."

Adrian immediately switched off the tap. It took him a second to register what Y/N had said. "What?"

"We broke up. I called it quits with him."

Boom. A bomb had been dropped. This was huge news. The biggest news ever. They had broken up. Like, officially. It wasn't everyday that something so great happened in Adrian's life, so he was ecstatic.

"Thank God!" he cheered, completely forgetting to put up any facade or pretend that he wasn't over the fucking moon.

Steve and Adrian hadn't been the best of friends, but in the limited interactions they had had, Adrian had been polite to her ex-boyfriend. Y/N raised an eyebrow at her friend's display of excitement.

"I thought you two got along?"

"He was an asshole, Y/N! Seriously!" His grin was almost manic, and his hands shook as he clapped them together a few times. "You're so much better off without him."

"Hell yeah, I am!"

His happy mood was infecting Y/N. Before, she'd been going back and forth on whether breaking up with Steve had been the right thing to do or not, but now, thanks to Adrian's support, she knew it was 100% the right choice. Yeah, they'd been together for a year or so, and giving that up instead of working on it could be considered a waste, but...

"He didn't deserve me. That cheating asshole didn't deserve a single minute, no, second of my time!"

At that, Adrian remembered one time when he caught her boyfriend ogling their coworker Jennifer, who had a very prominent chest. She was a provocative person. All her clothes were a little bit small and slutty - not that being a slutty was a bad thing since Adrian was a big advocate of women being sexually liberated and having the ability to fuck whoever they wanted to. Jennifer wasn't the problem, far from it.

The way Steve caught eye contact with him and gave him a look that screamed 'I'd hit that ass' turned Adrian's blood into pure fire. In his mind, Adrian couldn't fathom ever wanting to leer at other women when Y/N - his literal dream girl - was right beside him. Steve had a smoking hot 10/10 on his arm and still wanted to play the field.

Fuck that guy!

Still, it sucks to be cheated on. Despite the brave face Y/N was putting on, it still sucked to have your trust betrayed over and over and, as far as she knew, at least another 17 times again.

"I'm really sorry, dude," Adrian said, and meant it. He wanted to comfort her in some way but didn't know how without looking weird, so he just half-heartedly pinched at her arm, trying his best at reassuring. Y/N let out a tiny chuckle. It wasn't as bright as usual, but it was more than sufficient to reassure Adrian.

"Hey, it's all good. My plan now is to stay single until Mr. Right comes knocking at the door."

"Yeah? That's a good plan," Adrian nodded eagerly. "He's around; I'm sure of it."

"I hope he is. I haven't had an orgasm in the past - Jesus, how long? - year, I would love one right about now," Y/N laughed. Then, her brain caught up with what she'd said. "Not that you needed to know that. That was TMI, wasn't it?"

Was it? Was it really too much information? Maybe it was a little private, sure, but it was information that Adrian wanted to know. Well, he didn't want her unsatisfied and unhappy, but he now knew that he was capable of something that Steve hadn't thought about doing in an entire calendar year.

"I could fuck you better than he ever could."

There was a level of confidence in Adrian's voice that Y/N had never heard before. Her mind briefly blanked out due to the shock of hearing such words come out of Adrian's lips, and thanks to her dazed state, he got the wrong idea. His shoulders slumped, and his ears became bright ruby red.

"What?" she mumbled.

"What?" He parroted back, his voice raising into a panicked squeak. Maybe she hadn't heard him. At this moment in time, he wished she hadn't heard him. "I didn't say anything. Did you hear something? Could've been Jennifer. I think I heard her saying something like that the other day."

Y/N's imagination was going wild, and every single image that popped up was appealing to her. It would be a lie if she tried to say that she hadn't thought about it before, that she hadn't thought about him before. He was so nice and cute and had big biceps, and was one of the only reasons she stayed at her shitty paying job.

"I heard you, cowboy." His eyes shot to meet hers. "You finish at 6 today, right?" He nodded. "Are you doing anything after that?"

No fucking way! Jackpot! He grinned to himself and looked at his hands in the soapy water. He simply couldn't help it.

"I have a few errands to do."

She attempted to not sound as disappointed as she felt. "...Oh, maybe another day then."

"No! No, I mean, I'm totally free after 7. Once I do my shit, I'm, like, totally not doing anything, so if you wanted to - only if you want to. Seriously, no pressure or anything - we could watch a movie, or I have a bunch of video games we could play, or, I don't know... do something together and hang out and stuff? Anything you want, really. If you'd like?"

He cringed at how desperate he sounded when he finished his sentence. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin his chances. Yet Y/N wasn't dissuaded by his words at all. If anything, she was more than tempted.

"I'd really like that, Ade."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"...Okay. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Very cool, very nice. I'll text you my address."

Time flew by as Adrian couldn't wait to finish work. They continued chatting as they worked, but both knew they were subconsciously focused on what would happen later that night. It was like some kind of gravitational pull that was making it difficult to keep them away from each other for more than a few minutes, and it was driving both of them crazy.

6pm hit, and Adrian was speeding to his 'errand'. He pulled up a few streets away, yanked on his Vigilante suit, and was stalking his way towards a suburban house. Steven had posted an image of him next to his car (that wasn't even particularly fancy, so why he showed it off like it was, Adrian didn't know) whilst outside this very house.

Be careful what you post, folks, or somebody might use your images to find where you live so they can beat you up.

Technically, cheating isn't illegal. But it is a sin - not that Adrian was religious in the slightest - and Adrian thought Y/N should have the world, and this guy, this Steven, couldn't even provide her with basic human decency? Vigilante would be willing to expand his usual set of rules tonight. Steven deserved it.

Vigilante whistled to himself as he knocked and waited for Steven to appear. Once the asshole did open the door, Vigilante swung and hit him straight in the nose. "What the fuck, man?" The bastard grabbed his nose to stop the bleeding and stared angrily up at Vigilante. "Vigilante does house calls now?"

"This ain't a house call. This is a message." Adrian paused for dramatic effect. "You're a cheating scumbag! I should chop your shrivelled dick off for being such an ungrateful cunt."

"Who sent you? Was it Tina?"

"Not Tina."

"Abby, then?"

"No."

"Liz?"

"Liz, no."

"Penny?"

"Dude, are you for real?"

"Emily A?"

"Jesus christ."

"Emily L?"

"OMG, you're the whoriest whore to ever whore!

Steven stood there, mouth opening and closing a few times before his pea brain managed to say, "No, you," and despite how lacklustre of a comeback that is, Steven seemed proud of himself.

It was quiet.

Then, because both of these men will ultimately try to solve everything with their fists, the boys lunged at each other. Steven had never been smart - he knew Vigilante was adept at hand to hand and had killed people before and still tried to fight the guy - so as he saw an opening, he drove his fist into Vigilante's stomach. He was a beefy dude, so Adrian was aware that there was going to bruise there for a few days, but Vigilante had been in hundreds of fights. One blow to the stomach was not going to slow him down for long.

If anything, it urged Vigilante to be more vicious. With two quick punches - one to the groyne and another to the neck directly on his Adam's apple - Steven was crumpled on the ground in severe pain and having a hard time breathing.

"You hurt Y/N, you jackass!" Vigilante yelled, giving his reasoning away. Shit. He hadn't meant to divulge that. He'd been so caught up in the moment that it slipped right out. And so, before anything else gave away snippets of his identity, Vigilante left the scene and rushed as fast as he possibly could back to his apartment building.

It was 6.56 when he finally got home. He had 4 minutes - well, probably around 9 because of her tendency to be late - and he spent most of that time throwing his suit off. Did he smell like he had just beaten somebody up? He didn't really have time for a shower but could give himself a quick wipedown, a whore’s bath.

The punch patch on his stomach was something he couldn't do anything about. He could hide it with his shirt for the time being. If things went well and there was some under the clothes type action, she'd definitely see it. Would she care? Would she stay long enough to notice? The night would have to go either really good or really bad if it ended with him with his shirt off. In the best-case scenario, they would make sweet, hot, passionate love, and she'd become totally beguiled by his moves. Worst-case scenario: a fire. Or a battle. Or a war. Or maybe she didn't like him that way, which would be crushing, but he'd still pine from afar.

So, with the hope that he would be shirtless at some point tonight, Adrian began brainstorming excuses he could use. He'd never been a great liar, but he had to try. Got headbutted by a baby goat? Nope, he doesn't look like the sort of guy who'd do well on a farm. Walked into a bookcase? Fuck, that made him look clumsy as shit (which he was), and clumsy is not sexy.

What if he told her the truth? Would she believe him?

Three gentle knocks cut his workshopping short. Y/N was here. He took a deep breath, sprayed some cologne, and opened his front door.

"Hi."

"Hi," he said back, a crooked smile plastered onto his face. His heart was beating faster than a hummingbird. "C-come, come in."

She walked through the doorway, and her eyes were immediately scanning his place as she slipped her shoes off. His apartment was mostly bare, apart from the geeky accoutrements littered here and there. There was a poster of Hellboy on the wall, his bookcase was filled with Dungeons and Dragons books - both guidebooks and the accompanying novelisations - he had multiple Critical Role figurines, and an old-looking gun on a stand.

"Is that the colt from Supernatural?" Y/N asked, walking towards the revolver.

"Yup. Yeah, it is," he leaned against his desk and rested his elbow over the surface. "It's one of the ones they used in the show. I got it at an auction on eBay. Pretty awesome, huh?"

"So awesome!" She knelt down a bit to read the inscription on the gun stand, and her eyes lit up a little when he casually lifted the gun up and handed it to her. Her fingers closed around it and gently touched the smooth, cold metal. "Do you like guns? Like regular ones?"

"Uh, yeah, I think they're pretty cool."

That was an understatement.

"Do you like gunslingers? Like, Dean? Or Percy de Rolo? Or Rambo, even?"

"I love Rambo!"

Something in Y/N's demeanour changed. "What about Vigilante? Do you think he's cool?" she asked, trying not to sound too eager for the answer.

Adrian looked back at her. He felt nervous about all this before she asked that, and now it had only increased. Y/N kept her eyes locked on Adrian, watching for any slight change in his face or body language as she twirled the gun between her hands. "Vigilante? He's cool," Adrian replied carefully. He tried to sound nonchalant and casual like nothing happened, but his voice cracked slightly upon saying his last word, and he cursed himself out mentally. "Do you think Vigilante is cool?"

Y/N looked down at the gun. "Steven called me before I got here - I don't know why I picked up but I did - and he was screaming down the phone at me. He kept saying that I was such an asshole for telling Vigilante to beat him up, but I've never met Vigilante," she explained slowly, her brows furrowed a little as she frowned. "Steven was certain Vigilante said, 'You hurt Y/N, you jackass!'"

The walls felt as if they were closing in.

"Weird," Adrian commented dryly.

"Yeah, it is weird." Y/N put the colt back down on its stand. "I only told you about my breakup."

A pin drop could be heard. It was so silent for far too long. The silence was so thick that Adrian wondered whether or not time had stood still and they were frozen in the moment.

"Either you told a stranger my personal information -"

"No, no, I would never do that."

"So, if I only told you and you didn't tell anyone else..." Y/N trailed off as she got closer and closer to Adrian until he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheeks. Her eyes flickered down to the hem of his shirt, and her fingers soon followed.

Fuck. He couldn't breathe. He didn't want to breathe. His brain was going wild. His lungs couldn't keep up with its demands to keep inhaling air because every breath was so shallow. Every gasp was so sharp and desperate. Every intake was so painful. Everything was hurting.

All Adrian wanted to do at that moment was run. Run. Just fucking run.

He broke from her grasp and crossed the room. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. What was there to say? 'I put on hockey pads and beat up criminals when everyone else is sleeping'? That made him sound kinda insane.

"Adrian, I'm not going to tell anyone." She said softly, her tone completely devoid of judgement as she reached out so he'd come closer. "C'mere, please?"

Historically, he'd never been able to deny her, and his streak wasn't going to end today. Though he was reluctant and slow to move, he let her take hold of his hand and was tugged closer and closer until the very tips of their socked toes were mere millimetres apart.

"You're doing good. Real good. Not that save the turtles corporate bullshit. There's a lot of bad people who slip through the cracks. And, yeah, maybe I'm not fully on board with all the murder and violence thingy going on, but..." Y/N's hand came up to cradle his cheek and gently stroked it. "You help me sleep at night; did you know that? You're a good man and a great friend, so please don't pretend that you're some monster."

And with those final words, her soft lips found his, and everything seemed to explode in sparks. It was like everything he'd ever imagined and more. He pulled her in by the waist as he deepened the kiss, his thumb drawing circles on her hip bone. Everything became a blur of sensation: her body, her hair, the scent of her perfume, and the faint taste of cherry chapstick on her lips.

Before he knew what was happening, he'd lifted her in his arms, and her legs were wrapped around his waist as he pressed her back against the nearest wall.

"I should've dumped him months ago," she muttered against his lips. Her breathing was ragged, and he could feel her heart beating fast against his chest.

That sentiment was something said in his mind for the entirety of Y/N and Steve's relationship. They weren't a good fit. Literally everyone could see that. So, Adrian had to ask, "Why didn't you?" as he dragged his lips down her neck while his hand slid underneath her sweater and started roaming over the warm skin of her lower back.

"Because..." Y/N breathed his name. "... I don't know. I genuinely don't know. He was obnoxious and lazy and I always imagined it was you whenever we got intimate -"

She stopped midsentence when Adrian groaned at her words. "Oh my God, that's so fucking hot," Adrian moaned, finding her pulse point and sucking directly on the skin there. She was like putty in his hands, completely unable to pull away even if she wanted to. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she tilted her head back, giving him easier access to her neck.

"You wanna fuck me, yeah?" he felt the need to confirm.

Just because she was grinding herself onto him, her hips rolling against Adrian's crotch, didn't necessarily mean she wanted to go all the way.

"Yeah, I wanna fuck you."

"Hell yeah, fuckin' sick."

If those hours in the gym were used to lift Y/N to his bedroom, then it was time well spent. They were a mess of tangled limbs and kisses, hands wandering freely as Adrian walked them to his room. The bed creaked as Y/N was set down upon it, her head falling backward onto his pillow with a soft poof. Adrian climbed above her with a knee on either side of her hips.

"Hi," he beamed.

"Hi baby."

His face softened at the nickname, and his lips formed into the widest smile his face was capable of, making him look as stupidly happy as he felt. With Y/N beneath him, everything just seemed perfect. Nothing was wrong with the world, and the universe had agreed to give him the most almighty of wins.

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip and begging entrance without a second thought. Y/N eagerly opened her mouth for him, granting him permission as her legs widened to allow him to slot himself between them.

"Can you take this off? I wanna feel you," she urged, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. He complied, shrugging it off casually and throwing it somewhere, and was immediately bombarded with the feeling of Y/N's palm drifting down his abs. "Jesus christ! You're shredded, dude!"

Adrian got a smug little look on his face as he watched her explore every inch of his body. But the way his eyes widened made her realise that he wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to people being nice to him and wanting to be around him. She could change that. She would change that.

"You're so hot." She ran her finger down his stomach and then along his navel, pausing momentarily to brush her fingers through his happy trail, before her hand continued its path even further down. "Do you want me to-"

"Fuck, do whatever you want to me."

Y/N could feel herself falling in love with him even more each minute. And she knew it would only get worse when undid his trousers to palm the bulge in his boxers, and he let out the most pitiful whine she'd ever heard. She laughed a little at the sound of it, kissing his bare shoulder briefly as her hand slid underneath his underwear and wrapped around him.

"Shit," he hissed, bucking up against her touch. He sounded desperate, and when she looked into his eyes, his pupils were dilated in arousal. His cheeks were splotches of red, his bottom lip hooked on his teeth, brows scrunched together, his chest moving dramatically and his gaze focused on the ceiling as he tried desperately to control himself as she jerked him off.

"Baby," she spoke lowly. "Look at me."

Slowly but surely, he tilted his head to focus on her, his green eyes meeting hers for a split second. She smiled and brought her free hand up to cup his cheek. "Your eyes are so pretty, cowboy," Y/N cooed. "It's almost impossible for a girl to look away."

"I watch you all day," he began, his face scrunching up when he realised how stalkerish his rant had started. "I mean, whenever we're in the same room, I can't help it. Part of me wants to make sure that you're safe, happy, and comfortable, and the other part just can't resist. I'm a moth, and you're the flame, y'know? You're bright and beautiful - you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen - and I can't help myself."

Her hand stopped. His chest heaving for a completely different reason now.

"Do you mean that?" Y/N asked in disbelief.

The only answer Adrian could give was an exhale and a "Yeah."

That was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. And since it was so nice and she'd been in a relationship with a prick for so long, Y/N didn't know how to respond.

"Fuck, uh, forget I said that. I understand if -"

"Why would I want to forget?" she asked, surprising even herself with the firmness in her voice.

Adrian gave her one of those tight-lipped smiles that he usually gave whenever people made fun of him at work, and he just had to stand there and take it. "You know, you're you," he eventually explained, sitting up and gesturing excitedly, his hands brushing up and down her body. Then, his voice quietened when he added, "And I'm just me."

"Adrian, 'just you' is my favourite thing in the world."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. The gears in his mind were whirring furiously until his brain finally caught on to Y/N's words. In an instant, he was surging forward, kissing her hard and possessively with a vigour that left Y/N breathless. The smooch was long and hot and wonderful, and she wound her arms around his neck, holding him close as they continued to deepen their kiss.

When the need for air overwhelmed her and she had to break apart from him, they simply rested their foreheads together and giggled, both of their chests rising and falling rapidly as they struggled to catch their breaths. Adrian's thumb stroked her cheek, and Y/N couldn't help but notice that he was watching her with such affection it made her heart flutter.

That's why she had no qualms urging, "Let's get naked." Adrian grinned wickedly at her suggestion, leaning down to place another searing kiss on her lips as his fingers fumbled with the zip of her trousers.

They were both down to their underwear in five seconds and completely naked a few seconds after that. After the initial shock of 'holy shit, the hottest person I've ever seen is naked in front of me', Adrian got to work and pressed his mouth along Y/N's thighs, kissing his way up towards her centre.

But before the real pleasure could start, Y/N felt the need to warn, "It's just, uh, could you take it easy on me, cowboy?"

"Been a while?"

"You have no idea."

So, he started off slow. Very slow. He kissed the inside of her thigh softly and brushed his nose against the sensitive skin there. He traced light circles on her waist as he went further and further inwards until the very tip of his tongue made contact with her clit. She jolted at the sensation and bit down on her bottom lip, his name falling from her lips as she did so. Adrian kept going, and soon his tongue was swirling around the tip of her clit. It drove her wild, made her moan, and made her lose herself completely in his touches and tastes.

Previous partners had told him he was particularly good at this part and he was going to use that to his advantage. What if he ate her out so good that she never left and fell in love with him and became his girlfriend? Wouldn't that just be great?

Locking her into place with an arm locked around her stomach, he took her clit into his mouth and sucked so she was grabbing at his hair again, a string of whimpers coming from deep within her throat with every stroke of his tongue. "Oh my God, oh, Jesus fucking Christ," she swore as Adrian slipped two fingers inside of her and curled them as he sucked.

Her whole body tingled, a pleasurable ache taking over her stomach like someone was pulling a rubber band until it snapped. Y/N's eyes crossed, and she arched her back and cried out Adrian's name, her whole body shaking uncontrollably beneath his mouth. Steve had never been this attentive. He had never paid attention to her needs. Even when they'd been intimate, he'd been focused on his own pleasure. This was new. This was brilliant.

And there was no going back.

"You good?" He chuckled huskily, lifting up his head and looking at her with those captivating green eyes. Y/N nodded, unable to speak for fear of her voice cracking and giving away that she wanted him so badly, she felt like she might combust. "That was literally the hottest thing I've ever seen. Steven was, like, a complete dumbass because I'm gonna do that as often as I can.... Is that cool? You down for that? It's totally okay if not -"

"You can do that whenever you want."

"Cool."

"I can't believe I've been so stupid." Y/N huffed out a laugh and straddled his thighs. "You can fuck me better than Steve ever could. We could've been doing this months ago, and I wouldn't have wasted my time on him."

"Wish we could rub it in that asshole's face."

A light bulb appeared above Y/N's head. She momentarily got off his lap to search through all her clothes pockets, and once she found what she wanted, she returned to her previous position.

"Why don't we?"

"What?"

"A buttdial will make him furious." She waved her phone around, but she insisted, "If you don't wanna be on the call, it'll just be me. Or if it makes you uncomfortable all together, we can forg -'

No hesitation. "Put it on speakerphone."

"Yeah?"

"That's hot as shit, yeah."

Giddy with excitement, Y/N gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, gently placed Adrian's glasses on his bedside table, and found Steve's contact before putting the call on speaker. The prick didn't pick up, but they could still leave a voicemail.

"Oh God!" She moaned as she lowered herself onto Adrian's cock, her fingers gripping his shoulders when he was fully buried inside her, her body feeling deliciously stretched.

"Feel good, pretty girl?"

"So full." She breathed. "Never been so full."

In response, he gripped her hips and pulled her down onto him harder and deeper, making her whimper into his mouth. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he ground himself against her slowly, causing her to cry out and hold tighter. "That's right, baby," Adrian crooned in her ear, his voice low and seductive. "You sound so sexy like that... so sweet. So fucking beautiful."

Y/N bit her lip and closed her eyes, letting the vibrations of his voice send her higher on cloud nine. All thoughts of being mad about Steve completely vanished. Steve was nothing. Adrian was everything.

Sweat soon started trickling down their bodies, dripping between them as she reached for him to help him finish, and the sounds they exchanged sounded almost animalistic, needy, and dirty. And Y/N couldn't help herself. Her tongue drew a line up his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin and making him go feral.

He manoeuvred her back against the mattress, her phone squished between the duvet and her back, and held her wrist above her head as his hips thrust. His face was contorted as he rode her relentlessly, the muscles in his abdomen tensing as he fought to contain himself and not cum before she did.

"Think if I rub this pretty clit, you'll cum so fuckin' hard?"

"Please, Adrian. Please, please, please -" She chanted like a prayer while she writhed under him, though her throat let out silent screams when he did exactly as he said.

Once she felt her orgasm approaching, Y/N wrapped her legs around him and panted, "On the pill. Don't worry." If Adrian was honest, he hadn't thought of that - even though he should've - but he wasn't complaining. Not one bit.

"Come on, baby. I want to hear you," he coaxed. "You gonna cum for me?"

Filled with awe, he watched as Y/N clenched around him with a look of pure ecstasy on her face, tears brimming in her eyes, and that was it. It was the hottest thing he had ever witnessed, and he couldn't hold it back anymore. Adrian jolted, and his vision blurred even more than normal as he came.

Y/N smiled crookedly at him as he flopped his weight onto her, burying his face into her neck as they got their breath back. Now things were a lot more peaceful and slower paced; Y/N could feel her phone poking into her back and wiggled it out from under her, hanging up the call without saying anything else.

The pair cuddled together, neither one speaking or moving much for a few minutes. As he lay atop her, Y/N ran her hands lightly over the strong planes of Adrian's back, smiling at the soft sighs escaping from his lips.

"I gotta pee before I get a UTI." Y/N nudged Adrian's shoulder. "Where's the bathroom, cowboy?"

He gave her the directions and checked out her ass as she left the room. Then he turned onto his back and began excitedly fist-punching the air. "Fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah. Me and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," he began to sing to himself, unable to keep in his glee any longer. And he was still smiling at the ceiling when Y/N slid underneath the duvet beside him.

"Do you wanna watch a movie?"

"Yeah."

"Sick, lemme find my glasses."

Before he could shoot his hand out and knock his lamp off the bedside table, Y/N lifted his glasses up and delicately placed them on his nose. "There we go. How do I look? Like a sweaty pig, right?" She joked, brushing her thumb along his jawline.

"The sexiest pig I've ever seen."

"How many sexy pigs have you seen?"

"So many," he playfully replied. "Peppa Pig is my dream woman."

"Not Mrs. Piggy? She's hot as hell."

"Too high maintenance."

To further the joke, he took his finger and gently pushed the tip of her nose up so it would look more like a snout. She couldn't help but laugh. Well, she thought it was going to be a laugh, but it actually came out as a snort.

Calling the girl he was hopelessly in love with a piggy was not where he thought his night was going to go. But that's obviously his nickname for her now.

"See? My little piggy."

She gave him a halfhearted slap on the bicep, then snuggled into his side as he lifted his laptop from under his bed and onto his lap. Adrian picked some campy horror movie, and they barely paid attention to it since they alternated between makeout sessions and bouts of playful teasing.

An hour into the movie, Y/N's phone began to blow up with notifications.

Steven: Adrian?

Steven: You fucked that guy from work?

Steven: Slut

Steven: Absolute whore

Steven: Fucking 4eyes?

Steven: You fucked him?

Steven: Him? Of all people?

Steven: You fucking piece of shit

Steven: Tell me it's a joke

Steven: You're fucking with me

Steven: Baby, I know you didn't

Y/N: Did you not hear me on the voicemail?

Y/N: I thought I made it very clear that I did.

Together, they laughed at all the messages that came through. Y/N eventually blocked Steven and closed that chapter of her life forever. "That problem is solved," she reassured with a smug smile, earning a cheek kiss from Adrian.

He played with her fingers and wrongly declared, "If you think about it, we are the perfect pair. Me being a cowboy. You, a pig."

"How so?"

"Cowboys herd pigs. Duh."

Their romantic relationship officially started in hysterical laughter since Y/N cackled at his comment, and it would continue in the exact same way. They were devoted to not only each other, but making each other laugh, and from that moment on would ensure that their romance was fun and hot and exceedingly loving.

*Click here for my masterlist*

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Imagine hating on me but i spend my free time maladaptive daydreaming about getting raw dogged by fictional men

Change of Plans

Pairing: Adrian Chase (Vigilante) x F!Reader ++ Word Count/Rating: 5.4k / E

Summary: You know Adrian is Vigilante. Now you just have to prove it, but things don't pan out like you expect them to.

Warnings: Sex pollen (there's like inherent dubcon bc of that, but they're both so into it), vaginal sex, light angst, honestly this is so fluffy and emotional bc I can't ever help myself lmao

You knew it. You fucking knew it. 

You’ve had your suspicions – Adrian’s unexplainable injuries, him bailing on you with short notice all the time, his complete avoidance of any and all questions. At first you thought he simply didn’t want to be friends anymore and this was his shitty way of ending things. Then you started to notice the pattern.

Anytime Adrian Chase is unavailable, someone reports a sighting of Vigilante.

Tonight’s the final straw. You were looking forward to hanging out with Adrian and watching bad movies all week, only for him to send a text at the last minute saying can’t hang. have to stay late at work. 🧜🏻‍♂️😿

Except when you called Fennel Fields to fake a family emergency so he could get out early, you learned that Adrian wasn’t on the schedule today and he certainly wasn’t pulling any extra hours. Then you saw the video on twitter. 

It was short, just a few seconds long, but it was enough. His voice. His stupid, infuriating voice. You’d know it anywhere. Combined with your already suspicious mind, you have to prove it – which leads to now. Sitting in the dark of Adrian’s apartment, waiting for him to get home.

You've come prepared. Bringing all the snacks and drinks you originally picked up for movie night, you have no reason to get up from the chair you've chosen to camp in. Tucking yourself into your favorite blanket, you're in it for the long haul.

Movies never show how boring it is waiting in the dark for someone to show up. They always skip to the good part and provide the immediate pay off. Seconds pass like minutes and minutes pass like hours. You could pull out your phone, but you don't want to chance alerting Adrian of your presence in any way.

Part of you is still having a hard time reconciling this. Despite all the evidence, there's still that voice whispering doubt that you've made this all up and are going to look insane once Adrian gets home. Adrian will laugh at you for your crazy theory and then either kick you out or relentlessly laugh at you. Either option is not preferable.

Another option crosses your mind. You try not to dwell on it, but it's impossible to ignore in the dark. What if Adrian isn't alone when he comes home? What if he's been spending time with someone he likes more? You don't want to fully consider the fallout of that – likely copious amounts of ice cream and a romcom marathon.

Enough time passes that you eventually begin to nod off. After a long week it's only natural. You drift into the weird liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, consciousness bobbing along like a ship without a motor.

Jarring is an understatement when you're woken by Adrian loudly returning home. He storms in through the sliding glass door, slamming it so hard that it pops back open again slightly. It's a rude awakening, but the adrenaline now running through your veins is a great boost.

He's hunched over the dining table, arms extended with his hands flat. You can see his heavy breathing from here. You don't need to be an expert in body language to tell that he's upset about something.

It's not until he tears his mask off, fully confirming what you already know to be true, that you gasp. You can't help it. Despite every suspicion, seeing him there is a shock. The fear of losing Adrian to someone else melts and is swiftly replaced by a fear of losing him in a far more permanent way.

Adrians's eyes go wide and you yelp as a knife suddenly arcs through the air at you. Acting purely out of instinct, you duck and the knife embeds itself into the chair where your head previously was.

“What the fuck?” you yell, frantically looking between the knife and Adrian. “You could have fucking killed me!”

Adrian stares at you. “You aren't supposed to be here.”

That stupid fire in your gut that convinced you this was a good idea in the first place sparks again. “Actually, this is exactly where I was supposed to be tonight until someone bailed on me. Again.”

You're not even sure Adrian realizes how often he's been bailing on you these past few weeks. You know how he works – completely single minded when he wants to be. Whatever he's been doing as Vigilante has kept him busy.

“You aren't supposed to be here,” Adrian repeats again. The look in his eyes is wild, his breathing still erratic. It doesn’t even seem like he's put the pieces together on you figuring out his secret identity. Whatever footing you thought you had has been swiftly pulled out from under you.

You take careful steps towards the dinette like you're approaching a scared animal. “Ade? Are you okay?” You lift your hands, showing him that they're empty. The last thing you want is for him to think you're a threat.

He doesn't move. It's unnerving. Adrian is always moving, fidgeting, talking. Some days you want to strap him down to keep him in one place. If it weren't for the continued heave of his chest you'd think he became a statue. 

A half a step away, he speaks again. “You have to go. Now. Otherwise I can't-”

“I'm not leaving you, Adrian. You're scaring me.” As angry as you are over all this, your concern for him overrides it.

His hands ball into fists. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for wha-”

You don't get to finish your question before Adrian is on you. His mouth crashes onto yours, all teeth and desperation. You feel every hard line and contour of his costume pressed against your body. His hand engulfs your jaw, keeping you firmly in place.

So this is what kissing Adrian is like. You never imagined it quite like this, but you aren’t complaining as he overwhelms your senses.

He tastes faintly of mint – a sharp contrast to the rubber and cordite smell of his suit. His hands are seemingly everywhere all at once while all you can do is hold onto him. There's a fuzz in your ears as every sound except for those coming from Adrian gets blocked out. 

The burn in your lungs finally forces you to break the heated kiss. It doesn't stop Adrian. He simply moves down to your neck, sucking and biting it in ways that are sure to bruise. He's mumbling into your skin the whole time but it's nothing you can make out.

“A-Ade?” He doesn't stop. You want to sink into this. Give in completely and let Adrian have his way. It's not right though. Adrian isn't quite right and you need to know something, anything before this can continue.

“Ade.” He bites a little too hard on your neck. “Adrian!”

You push and shove his concrete wall of a body, not stopping until he finally does. It's a small consolation that he looks abashed.

“What the fuck is going on?”

To say that Adrian looks delirious would be kind. His eyes are glossy, hair sticking up in all different directions, and a deep flush running down his neck. Whatever is happening, it's impacting his ability to think straight.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles. “I got hit with some kind of dart and I feel like I'm on fire. I came home to deal with it myself but then you were here and you said you wouldn't leave and-” 

His explanation gets caught in a high pitched whine. Adrian pulls you flush against him, nearly crushing you in a hug as he clearly attempts to restrain himself. You realize that the stiffness you felt before was not an athletic cup in his suit.

“How can I help?” you hear yourself ask. This is probably, definitely, stupid. 

You're still pissed at him for not telling you about his double life. You're still trying to process the fact that he has a double life. Despite all of that, he's clearly suffering right now and you can't walk away. He's still Adrian. He's still your best friend. 

He's still the idiot you love.

“You don't-”

You cut him off. “Well I'm going to, so tell me how to help.”

Adrian looks like he could cry. Whatever he had expected his night to be, it clearly wasn't this.

“Need you to touch me.” His words come out as a whine. Whatever this is affecting him, it seems to come in waves as Adrian's control start to slip again.

“You're sure? This isn't just whatever was in that dart?” You have to know there's some real part of Adrian that wants this. If it's just a drug controlling him, you can't do that to him or yourself.

Adrian pulls your hand, marching in the direction of his bedroom. “I've jerked myself off to the thought of you since the first day we met.”

Well. Not exactly poetic, but you certainly feel better about the current situation. 

The moment you step inside his bedroom Adrian is on you again. His tongue presses into your mouth while his hands work on removing your clothes. It's desperate and ungraceful, but you'd be lying if you said it was a turn off.

You know part of it is just the drug. Its effects are evident in Adrian's shaky hands and nearly possessed need to remain in contact with you. You know Adrian well enough to know the parts that aren't. He's making a valiant effort to ramble between kisses, trying to convey how beautiful you are and how long he's thought about this. Although all lights are clearly green he still checks in before he tears your underwear off and mumbles a quick apology.

You're suddenly off your feet, falling backwards onto the cushion of his bed. Shock is replaced by a wave of heat rolling through your body as you take in the new view.

Adrian is standing above you fully clothed in his Vigilante suit except for the mask. He looks imposing, the armor only making him that much bigger than he does without. He's palming his cock through the thick fabric in a futile attempt to take any of the edge off. 

You never would have considered it, but Adrian in his getup while you're beneath him completely bare is certainly doing something for you. You wonder if he'd ever fuck you in the mask. The thrill of it would likely be worth missing out on his gorgeous face.

The stare he seems to be caught in is more than a little flattering. Gears are clearly whirring in his head, but it's like he can't decide which is the next best step to take. He looks like he wants to eat you alive. 

You drag a hand down along your body, thrilled as Adrian’s eyes quickly lock onto the movement. It’s a leisurely pace, even circling back up once or twice before finally making the descent towards the apex of your thighs.

You barely graze the short curls there before Adrian drops to his knees and bats your hand away. 

“No fucking way am I letting you do that.” He tears off his gloves with his teeth and unceremoniously sinks a finger into your core. You feel even better than he imagined and you both groan in a filthy harmony.

Adrian doesn't have much tact – falling somewhere between what would be ideal and jackhammering. You've certainly experienced worse. You know he's not some blushing virgin, nor is he a selfish asshole, so you're willing to chalk this up to the desperation of the drug in his system. It's only confirmed when he speaks.

“I'm sorry. Fuck - I want to take my time with you but I need-”

“It's okay, Ade. Let's get you feeling better first, yeah?”

Adrian groans, the word first ringing between his ears. He's not lucid enough to parse out what that could mean, but it sounds promising. “You're too good for me.”

His head falls against you, which quickly turns into him mouthing at your inner thigh. You really hope it's not just the drug that's made him so oral-focused. 

There's the jingle and snap of a belt coming off. You prop yourself up on your elbows in time to see Adrian pulling his pants down just far enough to let himself free. If you had any shame left at this point, you'd be embarrassed by your gasp.

Precum leaks freely, sliding down his considerable length. The head of his cock is red and clearly bordering on, if not actually, painfully aroused. “Thimble” your ass. 

Before you can give his dick any further consideration, Adrian grabs your hips and drags you to the edge of the bed. The need pulsing in his veins is reaching a fever pitch.

There isn’t much ceremony as he presses into you, folding over in a bout of sheer ecstasy. You wish you could bottle the moan that’s pulled from his chest. Tears catch in the corners of your eyes and you’re not sure if it’s from the perfect burning stretch of him or if it’s from the overwhelming feeling that this is finally happening. 

“So good for me. Knew you would be. Oh fuuuck, you're squeezing me so well…” Adrian rambles. 

Being inside you seems to have taken the edge off for the moment. He’s as gentle as he can be, trying his best to give you time to adjust. His mouth laves over your skin, finding your breasts and making your back arch up into him. It provides exactly what you need.

“C'mon, Adrian. Fuck me,” you say. Whatever control he was clinging to shatters. 

Adrian sets a devastating pace. He regrets not being able to take things slower. He'd always imagined being able to tease, slowly working you up and making you laugh, until the moment where he finally got to ravish you. 

The regret doesn't last long. Not while he feels the heat of you wrapped around him, your clear sounds of pleasure beneath him. The worry that he's somehow taken advantage of you lessens with each stroke.

You look heavenly laid out beneath him. Your fingers dig into his scalp, sending tingles down his spine. He's already addicted to your little moans and whines, knowing that he'll die if he never gets to hear them again after this.

He's imagined this countless ways and countless times. None of them ever involved highly unregulated and experimental sex drugs, but then he supposes that's on him for not being more creative in his fantasies. He still didn't come close to how good this would feel.

“I can't- I'm not going to last,” he grunts.

You tug the hair on the back of his head lightly. “That's okay. Let go, baby.”

Adrian unravels at the pet name. His brain and baser urges can't fathom pulling out at this point, instead pounding deeper in as he lets himself go. It's almost enough to push you over the edge with him.

His body is heavy on top of you, half collapsed and boneless. “Holy fuck.”

“Better?” you ask. 

“Mhmm,” he hums.

Your breath hitches as Adrian begins to slowly rock his hips again. You expected he would need a moment to recover, but he feels just as hard as when you started. Thrill mixes with concern as you wonder just how long Adrian will be in this state for.

“Not done with you yet.”

His hand slips down between your bodies. His thumb gently swirls over your clit. This slow and sensual pace is so different from the violent pounding you were just receiving that it's dizzying. It's not long before you’re back on the edge of ultimate pleasure.

Adrian nips at your neck, immediately soothing it with his tongue. “Your turn. I need to see how pretty you look when you come. Please, please, please,” he begs, still breathless from his own release.

His sweaty forehead presses against yours, locking eyes with you. With that, one more swipe of his thumb, and one more please, you're crying out as your cunt clenches around him. He continues his gentle rock, working you through the intense orgasm.

Adrian’s wild grin greets you as you reopen your eyes. He leans down to give you a messy kiss as he ramps his speed back up. “You're so fucking hot. I nearly came just watching you. I know you're not on any sex drugs but I'm going to make you do that as many times as I can. Hottest thing I've ever seen.” 

You have absolutely no idea how long these drugs are going to last in Adrian's system. What you do know at this point is that you need to be ready for a long night and you're going to need to get creative. Who knew you'd be speedrunning a number of fantasies with him on the first night you're together? It's like taking a crash course in each other’s sexual proclivities.

At a certain point you lose track of the positions and angles you find together. You take him in your hand or mouth when your pussy needs a break, but draw a hard line at your ass. There's no world in which Adrian has enough patience for that to be a pleasurable experience.

Thankfully, each orgasm seems to take the edge off for longer and longer. After this, you expect that Adrian will be drained for days. If you didn't know about the drug in his system you'd be terrified by his stamina and recovery. The human body should not be able to produce that much cum in one night.

You're completely exhausted. There's no world in which you won't be limping tomorrow and potentially for days after. The discovery of lube in Adrian's nightstand halfway through your marathon was an absolute godsend but could only do so much.

The bottle now lies empty on the floor alongside the pieces of Adrian's Vigilante costume. Those came off at random, whenever he felt too restricted by them remaining on. You're not sure what to think about the jolt that ran through you looking at all his weapons laid out on the floor. You really hope he was too delirious to notice at the time.

Adrian is currently pressed into you from behind, spooning you. He's not moving, just taking pleasure in being buried inside you. His face is pressed back into the crook of your neck, very obviously smelling you and your hair. It's sweet.

You find his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. You'll ruminate more on the size and feel of them when your brain is more operational.

“Feeling better?” you ask, voice thick with fatigue.

“So much better. I thought my dick was going to explode earlier but now it just feels normal.”

You chuckle. “I'm glad your dick didn't explode.”

“Me too! I can't be the guy with the exploded dick. How would I pee?”

Your body relaxes further into his arms as sleep begins to pull you under. “I dunno. I'm glad it didn't,” you tell him. “You have a really nice dick.”

You can feel it flex inside you at the compliment. You don't think he did that on purpose. You'll have to investigate that more at a later time. 

“You really think so? You're not just being nice?”

You snort. “Yes. Your dick is very nice and has made me very tired. Wake me up if you need something.” With that, you slip off into a deep sleep as exhaustion takes hold. 

Adrian holds onto you tightly, still disbelieving that any of this is real. You're even better than he could have imagined. The two of you never avoided sex as a topic but you also never dove deep into it either, and Adrian’s chest always felt weird whenever he thought about anything past vanilla involving you. 

Despite his want to stay wrapped up and buried in you he also knows he's taken more than his fair share tonight. Adrian slowly climbs out of bed, careful to make sure you stay asleep.

He takes stock of himself as he stands. His head feels clearer than it has in hours and his veins are no longer searing. He has no open wounds or bruises. His dick doesn't even feel that bad. This is definitely not Vigilante’s worst night. He has no idea how he's going to discuss that with you. 

He maneuvers in the bathroom just from the ambient light out of the bedroom. It's good this is his own place or he definitely would have knocked things over and woke you. 

Adrian cleans himself up and wets a washcloth to do the same for you. A single small noise escapes you as he does this, but you otherwise remain fast asleep. He decides it's worth the risk to pull one of his shirts over you as well.

His heart stutters at the sight of you in his bed and in his clothes. Adrian doesn't like reflecting on his feelings often. Years of forced therapy and people staring at him like he'd grown antennae out of his head whenever he tried to express an emotion really stamped that out of him. You make him want to try.

You appeared in Adrian's life unexpectedly and cemented yourself in it quickly. For whatever reason, you were charmed by what others regularly told him was weird and off putting. Faster than he'd admit, he had to reassess his entire BFF tierlist.

From the start, there had been a soft and saccharine hope that this could be something more. The second it was felt, it was buried, but it never went down deep or stayed there for long. Like an annoying but resilient weed he couldn't ignore. You probably wouldn't appreciate that comparison.

Adrian was left stuck – wanting more and not wanting to ruin your friendship. He really hopes tonight changes things.

Your brow furrows, arms reaching out to where Adrian should be beside you. He slips a pair of boxers on and joins you back in bed. He was going to grab a glass of water for when you woke up, but how can he deny that?

You snuggle into his chest and throw a leg over him. Adrian kisses the top of your head and settles in. He's asleep in minutes.

×××

It's early afternoon when you wake. Your body is starfished, left arm and leg splayed over Adrian. His gentle snores tell you that he doesn't mind. 

You reposition and tuck yourself alongside his body. He's a furnace and you're happy to soak up some additional heat. While you move, you realize that you have a shirt on despite definitely falling asleep naked. It's the Fargo shirt you got him for Christmas. You smile.

It's not long before Adrian is waking up too. He's quick to pull you in closer and kiss your forehead. “I'm not dreaming or dead, right?” he asks.

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“Okay, good, cool. I just thought I'd make sure. I've had a few dreams like this and it really pisses me off when I wake up for real and you're not here.”

You tilt your head to look up at Adrian. You may need a pinch of your own to make sure you're not still sleeping.

“What?” Adrian asks. “Is there drool on my face?”

You chuckle. There is actually, but you don't tell him. Instead you shift so that you’re now laying directly on top of Adrian and lean down to give him a soft kiss.

He responds immediately, arms wrapping around you and one hand finding your ass. You end the kiss prematurely. “Don't even think about it. I'll be lucky if I can walk today.”

You could frame the grin on Adrian's face. He sneaks in another quick kiss and then holds your face in his hands, seemingly inspecting it for something.

“What?” you ask between mushed cheeks.

“You're okay? I didn't hurt you, right?”

You roll your eyes. “No. You just fucked the shit out of me and now I'm tender.” The shit eating grin returns to his face.

You spend some more time in bed, poking fun at each other and goofing around. It feels no different than any other time you've spent with Adrian except for the new level of affection and the teal colored elephant in the room that you both dutifully ignore.

Eventually, the need to pee surpasses the joys of staying in bed. You take one wobbly step before Adrian is lifting you into his arms. You let out an undignified yelp.

“You looked like a baby deer,” Adrian tells you happily as a way of explaining his reason for the sudden lift. It's an embarrassing comparison, but you'll take the help. If he doesn't actually see you waddle, it may prevent Adrian from singing “Side to Side”.

He's more than happy to carry you out to the living room after, even offering a pair of his boxers to make up for your ruined panties. You'll steal some money from him later to replace those.

You demand Adrian bring you the blanket from the chair you camped out in last night and some of your snacks. The knife is still embedded in the back of the chair. You look away and busy yourself with locating the remote.

You're quick to find a movie, choosing something at random. Netflix original that had no marketing and no one has ever heard of? Perfect. Something to fill the room with noise.

Adrian drops the blanket over your head. 

“Hey!” you yell indignantly. By the time you have it off your head he's disappeared into the kitchen. The hum of Adrian’s keurig machine starts up, eventually turning into a spitting whir and two watery cups of coffee. 

He settles beside you on the couch and focuses on the movie. You aren't. Leaving the bedroom popped some kind of bubble in your mind, bringing you back to last night. 

Adrian is Vigilante. There's no denying it. You thought there would be a euphoric feeling along with the discovery – the absolute satisfaction in being right. Instead there's a pit in your stomach. Adrian is Evergreen's most wanted. A person who you once heard laughed while chopping a guy's arm off. Someone any normal person would be terrified of. So why aren't you?

You take a sip of your coffee. It's exactly how you like it. 

He's quiet, which is starting to freak you out more than anything else. You've only seen him go completely silent while watching Fargo or the Planet of the Apes movies. This random garbage is certainly not capturing his attention like those do.

Looking around the room, you catch a glimpse of his mask on the ground where it was discarded last night.

“So, can we talk about it?” you ask tentatively, still not quite looking at him.

“Talk?” Adrian says. “What do we need to talk about? How great this movie is? Because if you want to talk about that we should probably finish it first.”

You roll your eyes. Unsubtle as always. How he even kept this secret for so long is a genuine miracle. 

Your legs are unsteady but you do just fine in getting up and grabbing the mask. You throw it at him, somewhere between gentle and hard. 

“That.”

“Oh right! This old thing. Not much to talk about there.” He tosses it onto the coffee table. “Let's just go back to this amazing movie. I think we're coming up on a big action sequence.” 

You move to stand directly in front of Adrian, tilting his head up so that he's forced to look at you. The look he gives you doesn't help your conviction. He's nearly begging to not discuss this. Unfortunately for him, there's no amount of puppy dog eyes that can get him out of this one.  

“I won't pretend like I'm not upset, but I'm also not walking out the door either. I just want to talk, Ade.”

Hearing his nickname seems to at least somewhat relax him. It's quiet for a moment, both of you struggling with where to start.

“How long have you known?” he asks.

“I've known for a while. I finally gathered enough courage to confront you about it last night.” You sit back down beside him. 

“How?”

“I'm not stupid. You would bail on me and then there would be a new post online about Vigilante. I listened to a few videos of you talking to confirm and voilà. I know Vigilante’s secret identity.”

“Fuck! If you figured it out then someone else definitely has. This is so fucked. What am I going to do…” Adrian continues his worried monologue, sinking his fingers into his hair. You didn't realize how important the secret identity was to him.

“Adrian? Hey. Ade, look at me.” Your voice is commanding enough to stop his spiral. “First of all, that was rude as fuck. If I've figured it out then others definitely have? I am relatively smart, I'll have you know. Second, no one else is going to figure it out.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because I've spent a disgusting amount of time paying attention to everything about you. In and out of your suit. It would take a miracle for someone else to have paid the same amount of attention to you and put the pieces together.”

Adrian pulls his head out of his hands to look at you. “Now who's rude as fuck?” His tone is teasing. “Other people look at me. Plenty of other people want a piece of this.”

He gestures down his body. Your gaze gladly follows, which only makes you burn with embarrassment when your eyes meet Adrian's again. You want to hate his cocky grin, but you're also enjoying this new form of confidence from him.

You're not quite sure where things go from here. You have a million questions to ask, but you don't know if you're ready to hear the answers or if he's ready to share. Starting with familiar territory should help you think.

“So um, what exactly happened last night?” you ask, hoping for more details about how he ended up getting dosed with sex drugs. Or how those are something that's apparently real. Do you have to worry about that now?

A panicked look overtakes Adrian. It's a good thing he wears a mask as Vigilante – he's far too expressive and pretty to scare someone without it. 

“Why? Are you-? Oh fuck, I wasn't trying to-” he blurts.

“No, no! I'm not regretting it or anything like that. I hope you don't-”

“No! I don't either. It was great, you're great. Best sex I've ever had not even including the drugs, although they really enhanced the experience.”

You can't help but laugh. The absolute absurdity of all of this has finally and fully caught up with you. You don't know why you ever expected a normal confrontation or a normal confession with Adrian. Instead you're discussing sex drugs and reassuring each other that neither of you feels taken advantage of. This chaos feels fitting though, like it could have never gone any other way with him.

Adrian starts laughing with you, awkward and clearly forced. “Why are we laughing?” Adrian asks through his fake guffaws.

You reach out, placing a hand on Adrian's arm. “I'm- I'm sorry. I swear I'm not laughing at you, Ade. This is just- it's a lot.” 

You manage to calm yourself back down. “I don't regret last night and I'm glad you don't either. If this is going to work though, I have a lot of questions I need answered.”

Adrian sits up straight, eyeing you closely. “You mean you're not afraid? You want this? Me?”

It's probably a bad idea. After all, Adrian is no longer just your friend, the lonely busboy. Adrian is also a wanted and dangerous vigilante. Getting involved with him could result in things worse than a broken heart.

You look him over. His bright green eyes, nothing like you'd imagine the eyes of a killer. The light dusting of freckles that cover his skin, far too soft for some psychopath. The strong line of his jaw and neck, begging to be traced and kissed. His strong arms and hands, which managed to hold you with care even while not in his right mind.

Logic be damned, you know what you want. “Yeah, Adrian. I want you.”

Adrian pounces, knocking you back along the cushions and covering you in sloppy kisses. “Where do you want me to start?”

Thanks for reading!! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💕

adrian chase being super whiny and talkative when you can’t get a word in with how good he feels please help me (he whimpers, can confirm first hand)

oh MY GOD yeahhhhh YEAH!!!! saw this ask and immediately went feral, please send me more nasty adrian thoughts i love to see it. Hope you all enjoy this lil piece of filth <3

insult to injury

adrian chase x reader, vigilante x reader warnings: smut, dubcon elements, swearing, dirty talk, unprotected sex. Obviously the content is 18+, Minors DNI. as always comments and reblogs are super appreciated xoxo

It was supposed to be a one time thing, you had sworn not to get involved with people in your line of work. Made sense, since a lot of those people were either assholes or criminals anyways.

And yeah, maybe Adrian was both. But none of them were as pretty though, nor had such incredibly persuasive puppy dog eyes.

He only needed to breathe into your mouth a desperate and high pitched "Oh god, can we fuck?" after making out for only a few minutes outside a dingy bar for you to be disarmed immediately.

"Yeah? please? Fuck, I'll let you do anything you want-" He asked, filling up the space you could have used to answer him with his inpatient words and then his needy tongue slipping past your mouth.

You could have tried to answer him properly, but all you could do was nod and hum in agreement, growing desperate yourself with the way he was already rutting against your leg like a dog in heat.

It's not like you stood a chance, really.

Now the air in his shitty car suffocates you, its humid and hot and you really should have thought about cracking a window open before hoping on him in such a hurry to unzip his pants.

Your mind is fuzzy due to the lack of air, but the filthy and obscene noises Adrian makes are only adding insult to injury.

He's not only loud when he fucks, he's whiny.

A particularly deep thrust inside you makes him cry a pathetic and tortured “o-ohh fuuuuuuck” that stretches for long enough that his breath leaves a heated and moist print on the side of your neck. 

Your eyes roll back and your hand pulls at his hair to try and get his attention."Adrian, s-slow down-"

Its been a few times yet its embarrassing how much his noises still affect you, and how much effort it takes to not come in the first few minutes of him being inside you.

"But i thought you liked it like this." He says with a petulant look, his voice tight with the effort to say it. "Fuck, I know you do. I can feel it, its spilling onto my pants. Hhhnnng-" He whimpers around his words, and then his head falls back on the seat to let out a strained and broken moan that surprisingly turns into a laugh when your body reacts to it. "See?Just like that!"

He's right, you do like it.

But you cant speak, you cant even look at him directly knowing how fucked out he probably looks with hair sticking to his forehead and veins popping from his neck.

You dont know how to tell him that everything about this, that everything about him overwhelms your senses so much its almost scary.

That he's so - "Good. Adrian, you're so-" You try and say, but its barely a squeak of a sound.

"Shit thats fucking hot!" He interrupts, not giving you a chance to finish your own sentence. "You sound so hot! I'm for s-sure gonna be thinking about this next time Im tugging one out."

The image alone of him doing exactlythat makes you let out a frustrated moan that he instantly reciprocates with a seemingly bashful chuckle. You dont believe it for a second though.

Because of course he has to continue, he has to tell you all the details you aren't asking for.

"I used to jack off right here after our meetings in HQ so i could have your voice fresh in my head, but this is so so much better than spilling into my hand. Oh fuck its so much better-" He babbles, like its an easy task. Like he's not struggling to keep up his pace with how much oxygen it takes to not be quiet.

And you just gape at him, your peak catching up with you so fast that its hard to absorb all the implications of what he is saying or how your body is going limp from use.

Theres only the glassy look in his eyes and the sweet and filthy noises he makes in response to every stuttered movement you make against him.

You realize now that you can act all frowned upon or roll your eyes at him in disdain as many times as you like in front of Peacemaker, Harcourt, Economos or Leota, but in private...

Adrians making you seize up inside, as much as you try to block out his voice and pathetic noises they alone will soon cause you to tighten around him in a vice grip.

That he will inevitably spill inside you with a loud, whiny and lewd rendition of your name. Just how he likes it.

So much for keeping things professional in the work place huh?

"I notice i start getting nauseous in the morning and my period is a week late"

Girl i need to fantasies with a hot man that i don't have a chance on, not with a baby,please kill that thing

Shadamy YURI!!!

will post shadamy yaoi later

LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

10 things I hate about you.

Logan Howlett x fem reader series. Part one

Warnings! No smut yet but Age gap! Enemies to lovers! Logan is extremely Grumpy! Only one bed! Logan is in his late 40s and reader is late 20s!

“Don’t get any ideas. Don’t touch my radio. Don’t put your feet on the dashboard and do not adjust the temperature.” Logan growled and gave you one of his signature scowls as he turned the keys.

This was not ideal.

You were stuck in this situation with the world’s grumpiest man. Logan Howlett aka Wolverine. You did not want to go but Charles Xavier firmly believed you both would be the best chance to investigate what was happening. Rumors of a particularly powerful mutant roaming about.

You rolled your eyes as Logan mumbled around his cigar he chewed on.

“Yeah, I think the radio is the least of your concerns, Logan.”

“Don’t call me that.” He said sharply and you crossed your arms.

“Oh sorry, do you prefer asshole? Maybe dickhead? Fuckwad?” You challenged.

“You can call me Wolverine like everyone else does, girl.” He snapped and you purposely rested your boot covered foot on his dash.

“Some people refer to you as your real name.” He reached over to swipe your leg but you dodged his attempt.

“What did I fucking say? Put your damn leg down.” He barked and you smirked.

“Or what?”

“I will pull this car over and leave you there. I swear to God.” He snarled and you leaned in towards him.

“And then I’ll just find you again, Logan.” Instead of answering, he clenched his jaw and jerked his focus back to the road.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” You asked and he snorted.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” His question was filled with unbridled annoyance and you shrugged.

“Most people are.”

“Well, I’m not.”

You grin and take the opportunity to further push his buttons. “You’re not afraid of me but you’ve surely thought about me naked, huh?”

“Jesus Christ.” Logan slammed his head back against the seat. “If the entire ride is going to be like this, then turn on the fucking radio. No more talking.”

You turned the volume up triumphantly and looked out the window. A metal song played in the background and several minutes went by without either of you speaking.

“You never told me what your power was.” He stated. You turned your head towards him.

“No, I didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel harder. “Hmmm.”

An hour later, Logan jerked his head and you gestured to a sign on the road. “We need to stop for the night. You’re about to fall asleep.”

To your surprise, he didn’t tell you to fuck yourself and instead he silently drove to the motel that was displayed on the navigation sign.

He parked and exited the car. You silently followed him, jogging to keep up with his long legs and you moved inside the building.

“We need two rooms.” Logan huffed and the worker shook his head.

“Sorry, man. We only have one available.” Logan turned to leave but you quickly set a hand on his arm.

“We’ll take it.”

“The hell we will-“ He argued but you threw a wad of bills on the counter as the worker turned to grab a key.

“Put it under my name,” You told him as Logan furiously sniffed and tightened his lips.

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, little girl but I’ll be damned if I’m about to share a room with you.”

You chuckled loudly and firmly smacked his chest. “God, he’s such a jokester! Come on, honey.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Logan hissed as you attempted to drag him off but he jerked out of your grip and stomped to the room you were both given.

Your body temperature increased in annoyance as you stomped after him and slammed the door behind. Logan was already making himself comfortable and stretching out on the small bed in the room. The only one.

“Oh? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“On the floor like any puppy.” He answered without opening his eyes.

You went over and kicked the mattress but he didn’t budge.

“Throwing a tantrum. Cute.” Logan turned over on his side and you decided to be petty.

You climbed in next to him and he squirmed. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist like a sloth. “Mmm, goodnight, Logan.”

“Get the fuck off me, girl.”

“Nope. You’ve decided to be an asshole. I need my beauty sleep.” He untangled your limbs and growled deeply.

“I’m not sharing a goddamn bed with you.” You simply pulled up the blanket over yourself, still fully clothed.

“Then sleep on the floor like any feral creature.”

“I’m not arguing with you.”

“Me either.”

Logan rolled over to the edge of the bed, slamming a pillow in the middle. “Don’t fucking cross this line. First thing tomorrow we are leaving, we’re gonna find out what we need to know and I’m taking you the fuck back to Charles.”

“Good to know.” You replied and shut your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Logan.”

So far, you were losing the bet you made with Bobby that you could make him like you. But you weren’t one to give up. This was just day one.

Tagging @olivia-moo @marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @usergeta @nemesyaaa @taintandviolent

Dividers by @cafekitsune

there's a split second in the honda odyssey scene where deadpool has wolverine pinned down on the back seats and like, stabs him in the ribs, blood splattering everywhere, and mr jackman decided that exact moment, face bloodied, is the perfect moment to make the most delighted million watt we're-having-fantastic-hate-sex face that i just. i have genuinely watched gay porn less erotic than this

Hugh Jackman INVENTED babygirlism

Strong heart, strong body

Welcome to my first time ever writing something on Tumblr.

In this universe Jean is alive because if she dies it would ruin the story that i already made up in my head lol so suck it up and have some imagination.

English is not my first language and oh god i am trying so hard to choose words that aren´t simple or cringey because of my poor fucing english. Any how, please enjoy.

╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .

You really did loved him. No. More than that, you were obsessed with all of him, admired him, your heart was beating only for him.

At first it was pure admiration, he was strong and even though sometimes he was too grumpy and stuborn, he cared, he cared for Rouge, Strom, Charles even Scott (he probably will never admit it) and he cared the most for Jean. Oh boy how much he cared for her, the first time he saw her was like love at first sight for him, he didn´t give a shit that she was with Eric, he didn´t care about trying to flirt with her in front of her boyfriend, he was so submerged in all of Jean´s existance.

But as some time went by, you and Logan started getting along, at first you were only teammates, working together at training your students, but you grew fond of each other, spending time together alone, having really private conversations and emotional talks every night.

Damn he sometimes would even put his arm around you, kiss the top of your head and even gave you compliments, ( they were kind of suggestive too your liking but a compliment at the end of the day) he was just so touchy with you, you wanted to just melt in his hands and live as a melted being so he could take care of you.

¨Aye¨ his voice made you react, you were out in the balcony watching the sky, it was already kind of late and windy but it felt so fresh that you stayed maybe too long out.

¨You scared me¨ he walked next to you, he had the grey hoodie he took the first time he met the Professor. ¨Sorry kid¨ He still referring to you as kid, yeah you were younger than him but you were a grown woman and a teacher, so that nickname gives you a weird feeling since you were a bit too old to be called kid. ¨Just because you are more tha a hundred yeard older than me doesn´t mean im still a kid¨ He chuckled a bit ¨Well, can´t help it, i have a right to call everyone kid¨ You raised one eyebrow ¨Even the Professor?¨ He paused for like two seconds and look at the sky ¨Maybe not him¨

You stared at his profile, the wind hitting his hair and he just looked so ugh so beautiful and hot, he had his hoodie a little bit unzipped so you could see a bit of his chest. His musuclar chest.

¨You are going to drill a hole if you stare that intense¨You swear you were discreet enough, you felt a little embarrassed but there was no point in denying it. ¨You look like a whore, can´t help it¨

He raised his eyebrow and contained a smile ¨Look who is talking¨ you placed your hand in your heart faking an offended tone ¨Excuse you? i dress properly in every situation while most of the time you have your chest naked for everyone to see¨ He stared at you ¨I only see you looking¨

You were looking at each other eyes, too much for your liking and you start to feel your face hot, was he always this close? you felt this he was standing really close to you, too close to your embarrassed and stupid in love face.

¨I guess i just don´t know how to hide it¨ You were talking about the looks you give him, but you know it also meant you could´t hide your feelings very well.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him to his side. You rested your head on his shoulder, enjoying the breeze on your face and his hand caressing your arm.

Oh god his hands, big and strong, masculine and long. His hand caressed your shoulder and then travel to your arm, the tip of his fingers made you had goosebumps, you breathe staring to change a bit in rhythm. His finger travel to the side of your neck to caress it. You felt your heart about to explore, this felt to erotic and personal, it was kinda funny ( or pathetic) how just the touch of his fingers could make you feel.

His placed his hand in your chin to make you look at him but before he could you moved your head to avoid it. Having him touch you is one thing but looking at him was different, you didn´t want him to see your ready-to-explode face, what if he notices? If he founds out how you actually think about him?

Getting rejected was NOT going to happen, you preferred a bullet, one in your heart and another one through your brain.

¨Look at me¨ No.

You didn´t know what to do, what to say. Fuck! your face was still burning up and your stomcah felt like throwing up a million of dead butterflies.

You decided to look at him, if he questions something about your face or your actions you would just lie or throw yourself through the balcony in hopes to die.

Your eyes met and you felt you whole body, even your hands and legs burning up, he was so close to your face, his eyes so intensely watching you, looking at your lips and eyes.

¨Do you hate this¨ You didn´t exactly understand what he meant ¨Hate what?¨ His hand travel to you lower back to pull you closer to him, both chest pressed to each other ¨This¨

You were 100% going to throw up any second in that man´s beautiful face.

¨No, not at all¨

His other hand cup your cheek and you let yourself enjoy his touch, his hands were big and strong, you could feel it.

His thumb touching your lower lip, guiding you to open your mouth a litte bit. He got closer, just milimiters from your face, he stuck out his tongue to lick your lower lip. Fuck.

¨You know that if you want me to stop, just say it and i will¨ You nodded but that was never going to happen.

You cupped your hands to his face and pulled him closes to finally kiss. He pressed you closer to him, his hands on your back with a strong hold on you so you can´t separate from him. So you don´t go away.

You could feel how desperate the kiss was, his tongue licking your lips and then entering your mouth again and again. You were getting so weak, so consumed by lust, your brain was off, not a single thought, just the feeling of Logan´s hands on your waist, your neck, on your ass, breast, back, he was feeling all of you. His vocie would grunt from time to time, his deep voice just giving you hints showing how much he was enjoying having you. Feeling you.

How much time has passed? For how long have you been kissing? 5 minutes? 10? Just pure kissing and touching each other frantically was enough to make all your sensitive spots hurt, palpitate for some kind of relief. For him.

Finally your brain turned on, where you going to have sex? Was this going to escalate more? Would he like it?

You started getting nervous, scared by the idea that what would happen if he doesn´t like it, if he stops kisssing you and to each their own just going to your respective rooms.

What if this was the last time this was going to happen? He maybe just wanted some relief. Oh god, maybe just because he couldn´t have Jean he went for someone who would give in.

Logan pulled away, a tiny string of saliva connected both of your mouths for a second.

¨Let´s go¨

Fuck it. You didn´t care if he was using you, either if it was because he just needed some kind of relief or because Jean wasn´t available, you really desired this, you needed this and you would have it, it this was the last time you could have him then you would make a hell of a time out of this.

It was dark and already late, so both of you stayed silently walking to his room holding hands to prevent any students waking up.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

OKEY so i will make a part 2 of course. BUt thats it and hope you enjoy, any suggestions are more than welcome. Love u.

Edit: i am still editing some grammar mistakes lol

this movie is making me insane

Thinking about older!Logan and how he'd definitely clock the crush you have on him as soon as you meet him.

It's amusing to him, and unfortunately for you, Logan wasn't born yesterday and he absolutely catches your long stares when you think he's not looking or the way you avert your eyes from his whenever speaking to you.

He thinks it's cute and a little stupid on your behalf – a twenty year old something kid crushing on some fifty year old man old enough to be your father.

But it's when the two of your eyes meet from across the room that he knows he's completely fucked because damn if you're not the prettiest thing he's seen in a good fifteen years or so and damn if he doesn't want to treat you the way he knows boys your age aren't

When he finally gets you alone, it escalates faster than either of you could've imagined.

"Shy little thing arent'cha?" He comments from his seat beside you, "Am I really that mean and scary?"

For a moment, you don't realize he's speaking to you until you look up to scan the room before meeting his eyes.

Logan seems to have followed your eyes, scanning each nook and crevice along with you.

"See any ghosts?"

Your eyes narrow slightly in annoyance.

"M'not shy."

Logan hums from his seat, leaning forward to pick up his cigar from the table. Settling back into his chair, he takes a long drag.

"Sure y'rnot." He replies with a smirk, smoke pooling from his lips as he exhales through his words.

You don't break eye contact with him this time, and he's got you right where he wants you.

"M'not." You repeat.

"Oh, I know you're not." Logans voice suddenly shifts to a lighter tone, laced with tease. The switch throws you off for a moment. "Don't think I haven't seen you, do you?"

And there's no need for him to elaborate. You've been caught in your school girl crush that, in reality, you know you won't get in trouble for but it's the fear of disappointing the older man that strikes a chord of anxiety through you.

You don't say anything to that, and the two of you only stare at one another before Logan's placing his cigar back down into the ashtray and motioning for you to come towards him.

You obey without question, partially in response to your training with him and partially wanting to show him how good you can be, how good you are – you have complete trust in him.

Logan seems to sense the slight of your unease, helping to lead you to straddle his lap as you sit down atop him.

His thighs spread out beneath you, helping to keep you balanced.

"That's better, huh?" He asks.

You nod, eyes drifting downwards to where your hands have begun to trace over the detailed lines of his leather suit.

There's quietness to the moment. One that seems as though it could last forever as Logan keeps a gentle hand on your thigh and the other on the arm of the chair, content on letting you distract yourself for the moment.

"Jesus," Logan comments, making you look up to meet his eyes again.

He cups a hand to your jaw, softly turning your head left and right to look you over.

"Can tell you right now," he cuts himself off with a hesitant inhale, the pads of his gloves running along your hips as he slides his hands up and down the shape of your waist to your thigh, "– When I was younger I would've been all over ya'."

Something about the image that draws your mind makes your core ache and your legs weak – imagining a younger version of the older man in the moment, the whitesh grey streaks in his hair bring you back to earth just as fast.

Logan holds your chin with two of his fingers, pad of his gloved thumb stroking your soft skin, and in the same moment, the two of you are kissing.

His lips are soft against your plush ones. His tongue is rough as he takes his time to run the wet muscle up the insides of your cheeks and around your own tongue.

You run your nails through the short of his hair, tangling your fingers in the thick of his tufts.

Logan groans into the kiss, shuffling down the seat to spread his thighs out further beneath you.

His hand comes up to cup your heat, and you gasp into the kiss before grinding your hips into his large palm.

Logan smiles into the kiss.

It only takes him a moment before the pad of his thumb is deftly pressed against your clit through the layers of your suit and you're pulling away from the kiss to moan.

Your brows furrow, and your hands drop from his hair to rest atop his shoulders, letting out soft moans and hums as his finger circles your bud.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw, pulling back to lean against the chair, watching as you relax into his hold.

"That feels good." You manage through a whimper, humming lightly as he shifts his movements to figure eights over your clit.

Logan gives a half chuckle, "I bet it does." His free hand holds you by your hip, keeping you still as you begin to rock into his hand.

"Right there, huh?" He asks, and you nod weakly, rolling your hips into his hand.

"M'close." You breathe.

Logan nods, "Tell Daddy where you want him."

You're quick to obey, dropping your hand from his shoulder to hold his wrist in place, letting out a choked sob when he runs his fingers over your sensitive folds through your suit.

There's not much warning besides a moan that gets caught half way up your throat as you cum.

Logan only continues to run his fingers over your cunt, stroking your folds before your pushing his hand away, swallowing soft gasps for air as you relax against him.

You can feel him kiss the top of your head, his hand stroking up and down the soft of your back while your fingers are tangled with the other.

"Y'okay?" He asks into your hair.

You nod.

NOOOOO I NEED MORE 😭

A Good Man - Chapter 2

explicit, 2256 words

Part 1

He was a different man when he was fucking. A big part of his dorkiness diminished to a few cute but still hot facial expressions when things went too intense for him – while making room for and accentuating his dangerous air touched with craziness.

He took her to his bedroom and told her how he wanted to do it. The pace, the roughness, and the position. There was very little room for discussion since she was more than willing to do every single one of them, and maybe even more.

His patience took its course sooner than she expected but no sooner than her own. When he finally pushed himself inside her, her underwear was still hanging from one ankle, and his jeans were only halfway down. His bed was either very old or very poor quality – it creaked so loud with their movement that she could hear them over the sounds of her own loud whimpers she couldn’t keep in and the groans he let out right inside her ear.

Unlike her, he could talk as he fucked. He praised her and, funnily enough, himself too. He openly admitted his enjoyment, unashamedly begged, and encouraged her to hurt him even more when she started clawing his bare shoulders mindlessly. What surprised her were the possessive phrases he said that sounded like threats rather than romantic mutterings but managed to leave her wetter and warmer between her legs and finally caused her walls to clench on him.

He wanted to bite her, she could tell. The kisses he left on her neck and breasts started to involve more and more teeth, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave even gentle ones. She wanted to encourage him but her stupid brain couldn’t form intelligible words. She tried to urge him with her movements but he didn’t even notice. Finally, she sank her own teeth into his neck – to show him that she was okay with it and sucked a neat bruise, and he suddenly came with a muffled groan.

She ran her fingers on his dimples – he was smiling now and staring at her triumphantly. Maybe he was going to send her back to the streets now that he was done with her. She had to find a way to make him let her stay. She could come a few weeks later claiming to be pregnant – that’d be ingenious, proving it with fake reports and doctors, forcing him to spend time with her. She could move in for real. She could even persuade him to–

“Marry me.”

“Aaah, what?”

He got off her and lay on his side, head propped on his elbow. “We should marry. Then you can stay in the states as long as you want.”

She should have asked something else from the universe – he was making this so easy for her. Uncannily easy. She tried not to jump on this opportunity. She had to think what a normal person, no matter how hopeless they were, would do in a situation like this. If one had nowhere to go, had no money, was an illegal alien and a devastatingly beautiful but a little unhinged man, who also was a great lay, asked them to marry him, what would they do?

“I can’t,” she whispered but couldn’t hide her happiness. “I can’t let you do something like that.”

“I want to do this.”

“Adrian, sham marriages are illegal. We could both go to jail for this.” There. That was the right thing to say. Being Peacemaker’s friend, he’d want to prove himself and show that he wasn’t afraid of breaking the law.

Something flicked behind his gaze. “Uhm. It doesn’t have to be a sham. We’ll live together. I like you. We’ll do this regularly, won’t we?”

“I guess,” she said. It was good sex. The intensity and his possessiveness had scared her a little, even though they were the reason for the good aspect of the sex.

“I can take care of you, protect you.”

She couldn’t hold back her quiet laughter. “Adrian, you’re a busboy,” she said and immediately regretted it. She was slipping, his earnestness made her forget her role.

He didn’t look taken aback, bothered, or even insulted in the least. “So what? I don’t pay rent anyway. I’m going to pay the same bills for electricity and other stuff. It’s just another plate on the table. And you need some clothes and some girls’ stuff, which I can afford.”

He got up without waiting for her response and went to the bathroom. Soon, she heard splashes of water, he must have been taking a shower. What kind of weirdo would offer marriage right after sex and then shower without waiting for the answer?

He came back – hair wet and with a towel wrapped around his waist. “I drew you a bath. I don’t know if you prefer showers but I think a bath would be better for warming up.”

Oh. A bath. For her. “I think I’m already warm now, but I’d love a bath.”

“I left you a towel and a toothbrush.”

“Oh,” she said this time aloud. “Thank you.”

“I put your clothes in the dryer. You mind wearing mine? You can wear my teal sweater. You’d look great in teal.”

She didn’t know what to say. Thank you, that, she said repeatedly. But what else?

“I’ll heat up some soup for you. What you ate at the restaurant wasn’t enough.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, trying to wrap the sheets around her naked body. She didn’t feel comfortable anyway, but if he had some protective instincts regarding her, it was best to create an image of a shy woman.

He smiled. Every time he smiled, she counted more dimples and freckles on his face. “Anything for my future wife.”

“Adrian, I didn’t say yes.”

There. There it was, he wasn’t normal. It was only for a second, but she’d seen the dangerous glint in his eyes. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Why?”

“It’s a big decision. You want us to be a real married couple,” she said, still struggling with the sheets.

“Do you want to break the law?” he asked, his tone harsh.

“N-no, of course not. But–I need to think. It’s all so sudden.”

“Oh. Okay, think while you’re in the tub, then. The offer is only on the table for tonight.”

“Why?”

“It’s my offer, I don’t have to explain.” A smile played on his lips, though it wasn’t playful.

At that moment, she was vulnerable. She had no weapons and was armed with only perfunctory training in martial arts. Adrian was ripped. He must have been spending all his spare time in the gym – few men would be comfortable with their bodies next to Peacemaker. She had to say yes anyway, but what then?

She got up, dropped the sheets and walked up to him. He stood motionless and watched her through his lashes as she rose on her toes and gave him a soft kiss. 

“Why don’t you help me wash my back while I consider your offer?”

***

Adrian was about to take his twenty-minute break. He was going to spend all twenty minutes of his break sitting in his car and just thinking how amazing his life was now. He had a wife. A wife, and only his. She was waiting for him at his apartment. How amazing it had been all week. Every day when he’d come, she’d been there.

Yesterday, he found her asleep on the couch under the soft blanket – all warm and fuzzy. She looked at him with sleepy eyes and smiled when he kissed her cheek. They sat down for dinner and he watched her eat. And then afterward, he forced her to watch him eat her out in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom. Whenever she closed her eyes or looked away from the mirror, he pulled his head back. “It’s too much,” she complained again and again, and Adrian told her that was the point, nipping at her inner thighs. 

She went out and got herself some clothes before the courthouse wedding, but at home, she wore his clothes and he loved seeing her in them. He loved watching her sleep and eat and brushing her teeth. She was always at home and he loved it. His wife.

Sex was getting better and better. He found out that she begged easily, and he gave her plenty of reasons to do so. His pretty stray cat. He was never going to let her go.

 Someone punched the car window and yelled at him to return to work. His break wasn’t over yet, but he wasn’t annoyed. Nothing could annoy him anymore. He couldn’t take out his Vigilante suit to do his routine patrolling for a week now to keep his identity safe – even that wasn’t enough to dampen his good mood.

On his way back home, he thought about what he would do with her. Maybe she could be more open to experimenting tonight. Or they could just curl up on the couch and watch whatever she wanted. He liked keeping her happy, warm, and safe. She purred when she was happy, it’d become his favorite sound in the world.

He was greeted with a kiss and a warm meal. She was more curious now, always asking what he liked. His favorite food, TV show, hobbies (that one led to a string of lies) and friends.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Peacemaker,” she said, obviously surprised.

“You know Peacemaker?”

“Yes. I mean, who doesn’t? He made the news several times. He’s a bit racist, isn’t he?”

“No! Him? No. He’s wonderful. I mean, he is great. We’re not very close but, you know, I don’t have many friends.”

She had a weird expression on her face, he hated when people looked at him like that. 

“Am I going to meet him?”

“Hmm? Why? Why would you wanna meet him?”

“I don’t know, shouldn’t I meet your friends? At least for the Green Card interview?”

“I guess,” he said. He didn’t want to talk about Chris. She did have to meet him eventually, but it was still too soon – he wanted her all to himself, at least for the first couple of weeks.

Her hand was stroking his thigh absentmindedly rather than seductively. He put his own hand on hers and stopped the motion. She looked at him, with surprise, he guessed. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“Hmm. No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m too tired.”

She reached up, stretching her neck and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger on his skin. It felt nice, but something was wrong. Usually, he couldn’t notice these kinds of things, and when he did, he couldn’t care less. But compared to their first time, her movements felt practiced, planned and calculated. 

He pulled back and smiled at her as he didn’t want to be rude. This could be all his imagination – after all, he wasn’t the best at recognizing tension. “I’m really tired, even breathing hurts my muscles.”

“Oh. You need a massage!” She didn’t need to be so cheerful about it.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he said when she started rubbing his shoulders. His muscles were fine anyway but still, free massage.

Apart from his moans, they were silent as she continued rubbing his shoulders and neck. After a while, she spoke. “This is nice. It’s nice, isn’t it?” She took his grunt as an acceptable response. “I wasn’t sure about this, getting married to a perfect stranger. But turns out it’s what you are, perfect.”

He was a sucker for praise, and being called perfect would usually gave him an erection in a couple of seconds only but right now, he was almost drowning in some other kind of pleasure. His eyelids closed on their own accord and he relaxed completely. Her hands were so, so gentle but also applied pressure when needed.

“A week ago, I was homeless and didn’t know where to go or what to do. Now, I feel safer and warmer than ever. I really like your company, and I think this could work out.”

That was good. She now started massaging his scalp, and he groaned in pleasure. She really did want to stay, and not just because she was homeless. She liked him. She was kissing his neck now, with closed, cool lips. That was nice too.

“How about we spend this weekend at home,” she said. Now her tone was seductive. “We can just eat, watch TV and chat – learn about each other,” she muttered between kisses.

“That’d be great,” he said, but at that point he’d have said the same thing to anything.

“You should invite Peacemaker. I should start to meet some of your friends.”

He jumped to his feet immediately and looked at her, trying to find some sign of deception.

“What? Did I hurt you?”

“No. No, I just want to, um. I need to sleep. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, I’ll join you after I finish the movie.”

He wanted to tell her to sleep on the couch. He didn’t want her in his bed, he needed space. But that wouldn’t be kind. “Fine,” he sighed and went to her bedroom and forced himself to sleep before she joined him – and failed at that. An hour later, her warm body curled up against his and inhaled his scent from his neck. Weirdo. 

Returning Home

reader x Jungkook

genre: angst + a tiiiiiiny bit of fluff

word count: 1.8k

summary: you and Jungkook were inseparable, but it took the hard way to figure this out

Seguir leyendo

Help me lose weight

How do i start losing weight? I don’t eat or i just throw up but i can’t keep doing that since my bathroom doesn’t work so i can’t flush anything at home, and my mom feeds me a lot and at school i am so upset cuz i don’t eat buy seeing people eating makes me so hungry and i want to cry because i just want to be skinny and wear preety crop tops without feeling grossed out about myself.

HOW LOVE IS MAKING ME FEEL: Day 3

I feel like total shit, not pretty, not skinny, not cute not anything, sometimes i get scared people will know we are together because lf how i look and make fun of me, i get scared and insecure everyday and sad and disappointes everynight, but just for a momento, only for a beautiful momento, i feel pretty and cute when you say to me how gorgeous i am, how you like my body, my makeup or my accesories, how you just love me, and for that tiny second, i feel that u actually love mysel.

30-09-19

HOW LOVE IS MAKING ME FEEL DAY:2

I don’t want anything to end, you do so much for me, even when you are tired and ready to sleep and i tell you to kiss me, you still do it, you start kissing me until i am satisfied because you love me. When i get upset over something you did or say but i try to act like everything is fine, you somehow notice, and you say sorry, you apologize to me even though you don’t know why, and i feel so loved, like you love me and take care of me. You are not good with words sometimes but you are learning and i love you for it.

31-08-19

I really newd help, what i do with my life is not okay, i am so selfish that is just a problem please help i can’t keep this up

THOSE PAWS 😍

well here’s baby

There is a reasonable and logical way to lower abortions.

Hey guys! I’ve finished it faster than I thought so here is the thinspo routine I promised you.

But, please, READ THE RULES! It’s a very tough one and I'm very worried to you guys. It’s okay for you to not handle it, it’s okay to give up. Stop it when you reach your GW. I don't you guys getting sick or whatever. Please, promise me you are going to take care of your health. DON’T DO IT MORE THAN 4 WEEKS!

Let me know what you think about it! Thanks for all the support!