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It’s been so long since you’d been to the ocean. You missed the sea breeze, that familiar and spiteful twang to the air. You missed the ocean, lapping at the tops of your feet as you walk for hours. You missed wandering into the gentle swells of the waves on impulse until the water reached your collarbone. You would only stop your walk into the ocean when you were far enough out that you could hear the breakers crashing behind you. And then you would just stand there — or float, if it were deep enough — and let the rocking rhythm of the ocean moving towards the shore roll through you.
The best part would be that as you fell asleep that night in some hostel bed or in the warm cocoon of a hammock, as sleep began to lap at your consciousness, your body would remember the rocking. The push and pull of water around you. Completely dry, you were surrounded by the water, the careful, pulsating embrace of the sea.
Yoongi promised he would take you.
“Soon, I promise, soon,” he would tell you, gripping your hand and smiling at you after you told him about another dream about the coast. When Yoongi made a promise, it was going to be kept.
But there were things to be done first. After your marriage, life exploded with expectation, with responsibility. Even as you settled into the gentle sway of life in your new home, there were obligations that kept you tied here.
So, in dreams, you chased the ocean. Hunted down the salted air, the sand between your toes, and the feeling of being wrapped up in something so much larger than you.
“What if I told you I wanted you to be able to do… anything to me.”
Yoongi lowers the book he’s been reading, looking up at you over the thick spine. You stand at the foot of the bed, wearing one of your softest, largest shirts. You often wore something like this to bed, only to shuck it off over your head the moment Yoongi’s hands came to rest on your waist.
His brow presses for a moment, mouth opening in that cute little gape.
“What — You don’t mean anything, do you?”
You laugh and plop onto the bed, crawling towards him. Why does it have to be so goddamn big? You think, eager to be in his lap.
Despite being a deep sleeper, you were also a restless sleeper and the reason why Yoongi had invested in such a large fucking bed.
A large fucking bed, he chuckled to himself.
Not only were you wild in bed, you were wild in bed, often switching positions at least six or seven times during the night. It was a frequent occurrence to find you half slumped off the end of the mattress, ass in the air, as if you attempted, failed, and collapsed in the middle of trying to climb into bed. Yoongi often woke to find you starfished across the blankets, a leg thrown across his abdomen and three fingers shoved into his mouth. If he wasn’t such a deep sleeper himself, if he wasn’t so fucking in love with you, he might be annoyed by it. So he just bought a bigger bed and made sure to thoroughly wear you out before you fell asleep. You were happy to oblige with his exercise suggestions, especially when they involved rope, roleplay, or pushing the boundaries of your desire for each other. With Yoongi, it was always safe to explore.
Finally settled in his lap, you take the book out of his hands and toss it towards the nightstand. You reach out for the thick lock of hair that has fallen into his eyes and brush it back, smoothing out the press of his forehead. He softens beneath your touch.
“When I say anything — I mean anything.” Your lips purse for a second, thinking about how to say the next thing. “There’s something that thrills me about the idea that I’m yours, entirely. That I’m here, for you, for every single one of your needs and wants and—” you smirk on the last word, “ — desires.”
“Surely you can’t mean anything.”
“Consider this my blanket consent statement.”
“So if I insisted on cooking dinner every night of the week? You would just let me?”
You frown. “I’ve just offered you a blanket consent statement and your first instinct is to take on more of the household duties?” He chuckles.
“Well, then. That and…” Yoongi shifts you in his lap and you gasp. He’s still wearing his jeans, but you can feel the press of his hard cock through the fabric against your bare pussy. “What if during those dinners, I asked you to crawl under the table, onto your knees. Take my cock out of my pants and suck me dry.”
“I’d happily oblige you,” you say, your voice wavering a little as you press your clit against the rough fabric, seeking any kind of friction to ease the quickly rising ache in your cunt.
“If we were out swimming in the lake and I wanted you there and then.”
“Then you’d have me, there and then.”
His voice drops, becoming quieter, darker, as his hands dip to your waist, underneath the shirt. “If I wanted to tie you up, spread wide and willing in the front room for everyone to see, and fuck orgasms out of you until you couldn’t cum anymore.”
“I know,” you say, brushing your lips against his. “that you’re actively trying to dissuade me of my desire, but instead you’re only convincing me that this was absolutely the right thing to bring up. See?” You take his hand and, lifting the fabric of your shirt, bring it beneath. You guide his hand to the apex of your legs to where wetness has gathered and is now dripping.
“You’re—”
“Not wearing anything beneath this. Do you see how willing I am to be anything for you, my love? To be fucked by you? Used by you?” You let your lips trace the angle of his jaw towards his ear. “To be your pretty little sex toy?”
His breath hitches in his throat.
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll drop it. I won’t bring it up again,” you whisper.
“That’s not it. Not it, not one bit.”
His eyes glimmer with mischief.
“Then where is your hesitation?”
“Just contemplating when and where to begin.”
“What would you say if I told you I wanted you to fuck me while I was sleeping?”
In a moment, Yoongi has flipped you so that you’re beneath him now. Your breath rushes out of you as your back lands on the mattress. He crawls up your torso, an animalistic fire glinting in his eyes. He takes the hem of your shirt between his teeth, guiding it up your chest until your breasts are exposed to him.
“I’d say that sounds like an excellent idea.” He continues to move up ever so slowly until he’s face to face with you. In one swift movement, you feel his clothed erection press up against your cunt and you gasp. “Tell me more. Exactly how do you imagine me fucking you?”
“Good—” You gasp as he presses his hips to yours, your hand automatically reaching for his arm for grounding as pleasure shoots through you. “I imagine you fucking me good.”
Yoongi chuckles.
“Don’t I always?”
“Y-yes.”
“I need you to be more specific. When can I fuck you?”
“Anytime,” you say. “You can fuck me whenever. Whenever you want.”
His nose traces up your neck until his teeth latch onto your earlobe.
“You sure?”
“Y-yes.”
“And how can I fuck you?”
“Literally—” Your hands wrap around his neck, pressing him to you as he kisses and nips at the sensitive skin on your neck. “--however you’d like. I don’t think you—” You gasp as his hand drifts down to your center, two fingers sliding through your folds. But you grit your teeth and keep going. “--you understand what a blanket consent statement entails.”
He pulls back just enough for you to see the determination in his eyes.
“Oh, I do, my love. I just want to hear from you exactly how you imagine this little fantasy playing out.” As he slips a finger inside you, you bite down on your lip. “So tell me. Tell me about this fantasy of yours.”
You struggle to keep your breath under control as he begins pushing his fingers deep into you. He is still wearing his rings — just the way you liked it — and the shocking contrast of the warmth of his body and the cool metal of the jewelry slipping inside you always had you gasping.
“I want you—” You squeeze your eyes shut as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. “I want you to fuck me in whatever way comes to mind.” Another press, another gasp. “Want you to take what you need. Whatever thought crosses your mind—” He slides a third finger into you. Begins pumping in and out as he watches your face and drinks in every flicker of pleasure. “Wanna be your fuck toy.”
“And what else do you want?”
“Wanna wake up with your cum inside me.”
Sleep feels like a fucking boulder, resting on Yoongi’s chest. Crawling out from underneath it is painful. Difficult, even. If he wakes in the middle of the night, it’s with squinting eyes and a bit of an ache in his limbs.
But tonight when he wakes, his chest heaves, his breath coming quickly. He blinks as the wisps of his dream seem to linger around his mind, both intangible and utterly drowning:
Your fingers, wrapped around his throat, pressing so lightly. You smiled down onto him, that smile he couldn’t erase from his mind’s eye. Was it the pressure on his artery or the delight in your gaze that made his head dizzy?
He sucks in a deep breath, feeling his cock twitch against his stomach.
Fuck.
A light snore echoes from the other side of the bed.
You’re stretched out on the pillow next to him. No matter where he slept on your extra large bed, you always seemed to gravitate towards his presence. Tonight, your hand is reached out towards him, fingers wrapped lightly around his bicep.
Your face half pressed into the pillow, your cheek rounded and reflecting the lightest stream of moonlight.
Your lips, pressed so sweetly together, he could imagine himself slipping inside, feeling the warmth of your tongue lapping over him, the divine heat of your mouth sucking him dry—
His eyes shoot open.
The last time you two had tried this — fulfilling your little fantasy — you had been so excited that you woke up as soon as his dick touched you. It had ended in all of your sheets stripped from the bed and your head and one arm draped off the end of the mattress as you both panted like you’d just run a marathon without any training. It was good. Sex with you was always good. But it hadn’t been what you wanted.
Looking over you now, you’re dead asleep. With the ghost of a smirk playing against his lips, he pulls himself up to sitting and comes to kneel by your head.
You look so serene while sleeping, he almost doesn’t want to disturb you. But as your lips part and you take a long, deep breath, his dick twitches against his stomach and he realizes: He wants this just as much as you do.
Wrapping his ring-clad fingers around the base of his cock, he gave himself a slow stroke up and down the length, stroking from half hard to a little more than half hard. Carefully, he presses the tip to your lips. They part without him pushing.
Your tongue flicks out, licking up the bead of precum that glimmers at the tip. You hum sleepily in delight. While you were a restless and responsive sleeper, you were also a notoriously deep sleeper. Yoongi pushes the head of his cock into your mouth, your jaw widening, your tongue flattening instinctively at the intrusion.
You purse your lips and suckle softly at the tip of his cock and Yoongi can't help the hiss that leaves his mouth.
"Even asleep," he whispers, "You're such a good little pet for me." He reaches for you, smoothing the hair out of your eyes and coming to grip your head tenderly.
Ever so gently, he presses further into you, feeling the warm and wet heat of your mouth envelop him. He doesn't go too far though. He's not interested in gagging you awake with his cock. He'd much rather watch your eyes flutter open, mid orgasm. Fighting the urge to throat-fuck you - because that is always the urge with you - he strokes in and out of your warm and waiting mouth with deliberation, using his grip on your head to maneuver you to his whim. With each pull, his cock gets a little bit harder.
When he's fully hard, he slips out of your mouth with a slight pop.
In your sleep, your brow furrows and you sleepily reach out for him, fingers tracing over the now-unoccupied pillow. If a sleeping person could look disgruntled, you're the perfect image of it.
"Don't worry, baby," he murmurs. "I'll give you exactly what you want."
Yoongi moves the thin sheet aside and you mumble a little as the cool air of the room sweeps over your skin, raising goosebumps to the surface. Beneath it, you're the image of perfection. Every curve, every roll, every little mark and bump and detail you might have found issue with radiates with the mark of perfection: the mark of you. Tonight, your rambunctious sonambulations have brought you into a strange but oddly convenient position. Belly down, face half pressed into the pillow, knee pulled up to your side. The position adds a slight curve to your lower back and accentuates the round hill of your ass.
"Perfect," Yoongi whispers, pressing a hand to your lower back before letting his fingers spread wide, letting his hand cup the rounded swell of your ass, watching the way your flesh moulds to his touch.
Hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he glides the head of it through your sopping folds. A small sound of satisfaction slips from you as he presses against your clit, and you adjust in your sleep, pushing your ass up even further for him, already pushing towards the pleasure building in your lower abdomen. With a bit more bravado, Yoongi pushes more of his length through your lips, gathering the moisture there to coat himself thoroughly.
There’s a part of him that just wants to go like this, rutting slowly against your ass until he cums, spilling himself into the small of your back. But you had been specific in what you wanted — and, after all, who was he to deny you?
He notches the head of his cock against your entrance and after a deep breath, begins to push inside. A shaky breath racks through him as the tight walls of your cunt wrap around him, drawing him in, drawing him closer. He slides a hand up your spine, tracing your body as he continues to push inside you, working his cock into you inch by inch.
Finally seated fully within you, he lets out a quick breath, a laugh almost. You, wrapped around him, is as incredible as ever. Warm. Tight. Wet.
Slowly, he begins to move, pulling in and out, watching the way his cock emerges from your cunt coated in your arousal, watching the way your ass jiggles just enough when he slides in all the way. Your body accepts him, tightens around him, sparks him with pleasure. Your breath stutters as he sets a pace.
“Mm,” you murmur. “Yoongi.”
He pauses for a moment, gaging whether you are awake or not. But your eyes stay shut and your limbs stay leaden.
Are you dreaming of him? he wonders. With his cock buried inside you, will you notice the warmth that spreads through your abdomen? Are you dreaming about him fucking you, taking his pleasure — or are you somewhere else entirely, your body responding in tandem to his actions?
For him, the answers to the same questions cut like clear and cold water through his mind. Pleasure, rearing her head in his consciousness.
He wants to touch you.
He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of contact, hand drifting through the sheets around you in search of him, coming up empty. But his touch isn’t quickly lost — his hands grip your hips, turning you gently and slowly until you’re laid out for him on your back. You smack your lips sleepy, a sloppy hand coming to brush the hair in your face. When he crawls over you, he settles his weight just enough on top of you that his presence drifts down through layers of dream, layers of sleep and into your sense of presence.
He fits right where he’s supposed to. On top of you, surrounding you, within you. He was there in your dreams too, sitting beside you in some kind of strange and foreign garden, speaking softly and in words you know but don’t understand. You’re drawn up through the dream, greens and pinks shifting into the deep purple of the room, the dark red of the pleasure burning low and hot in your abdomen. Dream, mid-sleep, waking: through it all there is one constant.
Yoongi.
Your eyes flutter open, splitting from the warmth of your mind to the blanketing darkness of the bedroom. He watches.
“Sh, baby,” he murmurs, brushing the hair off of your face. “Relax. You can go back to sleep.”
“Closer,” you mumble, the word half spoken. Your arm wrapping weakly around his back.
He chuckles, pressing his cock against your belly once more, grinding into you with the lightest of pressure. He’s hard. Painfully hard.
“I’m going to fill you up,” he whispers in your ear. “Fill you up with my cum.”
You hum, fingers slowly spreading down his arm. “Good boy.”
He’s not sure if it’s supposed to be deriding or complimentary or what, because a yawn is already spreading across your face, eyes fluttering closed shut again. Whatever you meant, it comes out sweet. Contented.
He lets his hands run over you, tracing the dip of your waist up towards your chest, hands skirting the swell of your breasts before taking them beneath his palm, kneading them softly and slowly. You sigh into his touch. This, getting to look at you, laid out beneath him, sleepy and still — it’s something else entirely. It is the act alone, an indulgence, a new way of looking at you. Getting to take you in completely and without boundary.
For the second time of the night — or early morning — Yoongi grips his cock and begins to ease slowly inside you. He grips your hip for leverage as he pushes inside, maneuvering your body to his will. Your walls part willingly for him and he slips easily within you. Laid attop you, it feels as if he is notched against you, within you, like a puzzle piece. There’s no way he could go any deeper, reach any further into you. When he begins to move, hips pumping at a dangerously slow pace he chokes a little at the pleasure of it all.
You’re entirely still beneath him as he fucks into you — and quiet too, beside a couple of hums and sighs that slip from your lips when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.
Sleep and wake are entirely blurred at this point. You hang suspended between the boundless embrace of dream and the guiding touch of the physical world. It feels like the sea, that rocking pleasure that rolls through you, tide taking you where it will. The pleasure, though partially in the movement of him against you, is in the letting go. The release as the current carries you to an unnamable location.
Body pressed against yours, his hips rocking in and out of you at an instinctual pace. His breath begins to build in his throat, a quick pant.
“Fuck,” he grunts as the walls of your cunt pulse around him. He holds his voice back, and the word barely brushes against you.
You stay silent — somewhere between sleep and presence — and the worry that he’ll wake you has entirely slipped from his mind. Beneath him, you are you, vessel of his love, his affection, as well as the means of the pleasure that you draw from him over and over and over again. The combination swirls dangerously in his mind, love, lust, animalistic desire combining in a heady mix until he’s not sure which way is up. All there is is you, your body, the pleasure of it all.
Your eyes don’t open again as he fucks you. He lets his desire set the pace — agonizingly slow in one moment — then pounding into you, chasing the reeling sensation in his gut in another. Is this what it is to let himself go too? To release himself to the limits of his own want?
“Do you feel me?” he whispers softly, quiet enough that he knows you won’t hear it — at least not in a waking sense — as he continues to rock against you, his cock reaching deeper and deeper into your tight warmth. He imagines that his words, that the deep gravel of his voice, will drift down through the layers of sleep and into your mind nonetheless. And they do, settling into you with a warm thrill. You reach for him, want him closer, want him deeper, want him to sink into every cell of you. Your hand smooths against his back, dropping lower to the small of his back.
“Can you feel me inside you, filling you, taking you—” The words are more of a grunt now, him forcing the sounds over his tongue, holding back the fire that burns in his abdomen just enough to linger on the edge of the drop. “Do you feel how good you feel around me? Do you know what you do to me—What you make me into?”
His breath comes in pants, the sharpness flickering across your skin like the flame of a candle. He continues to grind his cock into you, pressing his body as tightly to yours as he can.
“Do you know how good you are for me? Letting me use you like this? Letting me fuck you and fill you up?”
He grunts as your cunt clenches around him. Each thrust pushes you deeper into the mattress, his hips now ramming into you with power and desire.
“Fuck—” he hisses. “If only you knew—”
Your hips press into his changing the angle just enough that your cunt clenches even tighter around him. Your eyes flutter open, sleepily locking on his in the darkness of the room. His gaze burns against yours, a desire set free within his expression that you haven’t seen before. Through the haze of sleep you hear it:
“Come for me. Come around my cock. Come while I fill you up.”
You gasp as your orgasm rushes through you. Back arched, mouth pressed into a perfect o, sleep-ridden limbs wrapping around Yoongi, pulling him impossibly close.
He grunts as his pace quickens, pounding into you, stuttering as he reaches the final edge. His head falls against your shoulder, hips still rocking against yours as he bites and nips at your neck. Finally, he presses his hips into yours, stilling with a groan as he spills within you, cock twitching and spurting.
Your combined breaths shudder against one another as you slip down from the heights of your orgasm.
When he pulls himself from you, you whine, again, reaching for him. He watches for a moment as his cum begins to seep from your still clenching cunt, mouth watering at the sight. You begin to squirm a bit, still distressed from the loss of contact.
“Sh,” Yoongi murmurs, settling between your legs. “Sleep now.”
Your fingers trail down your stomach, coming to wake enough to feel the soft hush of bliss that radiates through your body and the stickiness that is coming to spill onto your thighs.
“Leave it inside,” he says, his hand coming down on top of yours to still your actions. “I want to see it drip from you.”
You hum in understanding as he lays his head down on your thigh, watching as his cum begins to spill out of you. His cock twitches at the sight. You, filled and marked by him. The thought quickens his breath, stirs the once-satiated ache once again. He chuckles at the thought. Filling you again and again until he’s entirely spent.
He watches the flow of the white liquid ease out of your spent cunt.
“Squeeze for me,” he whispers, and you oblige him, your instinct to please strong even when half-conscious. As you clench and even more cum leaks from your cunt. It slows, but only for a moment before he’s gently pushing two fingers inside you again, to see how much will spill from you. Then, he presses his mouth to your lips, licking a broad stripe up, collecting the taste of you and him mingling on his tongue before swallowing, his adam’s apple bobbing. He looks up at you, your chest rising slowly and steadily as you drift towards sleep. He lowers his head. Again, and again he licks at your cunt, until any trace of his own cum has disappeared.
If it could, your cunt would be gleaming with how thoroughly he’s cleaned you up. As he smiles at his handiwork, he realizes he’s entirely hard again.
A couple minutes of rest, he thinks. Then, he’ll fill you up again, leaving you to find another load of his cum dripping from your thighs as you wake, just as you had begged him to.
Sleep is already sneaking up on you, the tendrils of dream and of darkness seeping like salt water into your mind as you settle into the comfort of Yoongi’s body wrapped around yours, holding you safe and tight. You grumble happily as he pulls your body tight to his, so that you are both laid on your sides, your ass notched perfectly against his cock.
With stillness, you fall back into the dream of the garden. As warmth spreads through your body, the ground fills slowly and steadily with water, consuming everything in its wake. Together with Yoongi, his body pressed to your back, you watch with a calm and steady heart as the world around you turns into an ocean.
For once, you don’t stir once until morning, until the sky warms to a deep purple, streaked with the low burn of dawn.