#He takes everything so seriously but everything around him is so silly

[ybklix]

the touch

PART THREE OF THE PROJECT 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ part one 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ part two ★ pairing: dom!bangchan x inexperiencedfem!reader

✦summary: Every time you and Chan meet again, you explore a new world of experiences, and this is especially true when he is very needy but shows it in his own way.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, college au, grinding, spanking, pet names (dreg too), dirty talk, teasing, clitplay, oral sex, face fucking, cum shoot, cum eating, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, slight breeding, aftercare!

word count: 10.3k

masterlist - taglist

♡ songs: railway by bang chan / everyday by ariana grande / nothing without you by the weeknd

wen’s note: tysm for +3k notes in the first part, that’s insane i luv yaa; edit: I lost all the written smut I had to rewrite it all, I was crying (real) edit two: im vibing now lmao

Everything looked better in Chan’s mind, after he had touched you twice which each time outweighed more and more the other, he believed for a moment that he would have it all, that everything would be from then on all about your sweet smell, nice dates, more quality time and just two stupidly tender people holding hands while walking around the campus, it was perfect, so perfect to be true that in reality it never happened that way.

After he dropped you off at your apartment, after the party and you tenderly and sweetly rested in his arms like he adored and wished it would happen every day, every day became hell for him, and he wasn’t exaggerating-or maybe a little, but he needed you, now, like never before, and not just sexually, he wanted to be genuinely close to you, to hear you talk and see you smile next to him; Chan thought that after the party would be the perfect time to ask you out, so he foolishly waited for the most fitting and cute moment he would treasure forever, but that didn't happen.

You just said:

“See you soon. Thanks.”

And you leaned in to give him a quick, shy kiss on the lips that fascinated him and took him by surprise, because if he had expected it he would have taken you more passionately and tenderly in a real kiss, and you just said goodbye to him like that before walking into your apartment and leaving him rambling in the hallway. Chan had to visit his family because it was Sunday so you understood perfectly and offered to let him drop you off at your apartment, but he didn’t want to leave you alone and if it were up to him he would already take you to meet his parents, he was feeling kind of intense with you, truly believing there was a huge fire between you, but decided to give you your space since you wanted to relax after your first club experience. Chan couldn’t believe that maybe it was your first experience at all and he was giving it to you, it was driving him crazy. You talked by text, but he refused to ask you out via text having the opportunity to tell you in person while seeing your sweet face. But did he really have that chance?

Unfortunately that see you soon wasn’t so soon. Chan was losing his mind, the first week he took it lightly, he had forgotten one thing you were very serious about, weeks of exams and heavier work, so he understood your aloofness, every time he approached you after class was over it was the same. “Oh, I’ll go study with Sam, do you want to come?” “I’ll be busy studying,” “I have a project due.”

Chan would reject the offer to go with your friends because he felt shy. He wished that somehow it could just be him and you, together. But he finally got up the courage to meet your friend, and one thing he noticed was that you really took college seriously. You ended up exhausted and quiet, and he could only see you and have you from afar because, due to his bad luck, he never found time alone with you.

He was fine. He was trying to convince himself of that, that soon you could be together and he would not distract you in something he knows is very important for you just because of his silly dream of living a romance with you, of being able to kiss you and touch you, he was not a high school kid anymore, he understood perfectly that both of you were studying your professional career for your future.

But weeks went by and he was getting crazy and tedious, he needed you, it was enough just to try you twice, now you were a drug for him and he couldn't do anything, he couldn’t take you by the arm and take you to a place alone, separating you from your friend because he wanted to look like the sweet boy who was worth it when she was around.

At first it was sweet, when he sat next to you to supposedly study but didn’t memorize a single term for thinking about you, Chan would play with his pencil, watching you deftly type on your laptop and gently rub the bridge of your nose freeing them for a few seconds from the grip of your glasses, while he imagined a lot of cheesy things, like those married couples who usually say they met in college, taking you shopping, walking on the beach with you, to take your mind off all the work you were doing and de-stress a little.

However, something in him changed slightly, his looks were heavier and more penetrating, almost eating you with his eyes because it was evident that you were awakening even his greatest fantasies. He wondered how you didn't notice.

You were doing so well, you were so focused on your studies that sometimes you forgot the presence of those around you, that you almost forgot Chan. After that encounter you didn’t know what the next move was, you were a little scared so one of the perfect excuses was to always be busy, when in reality you cared so much about having so little experience. On the lonely nights, you wondered what if he wanted more -which you also wanted so badly- but he caught you being once again inexperienced, so besides physics you tried to study the great world of sex, reading and watching on the internet the perfect techniques, feeling insecure that maybe another college girl had already given him the best oral sex of his life and you were still scared.

Not only were the heavy and hectic exam weeks approaching, but Chan was starting to get busier with his soccer training so it wasn’t now possible to see you as often, even though he was losing his mind, you both had to get on with your lives.

Chan was so desperate, that like a man in distress, he asked for advice from one of his best friends who he knew would take him seriously on the matter of being genuinely interested in you.

“You fucked her and you haven’t asked her out on a date? Fuck off man, maybe she’ll think you definitely didn’t take her seriously.”

“Okay, you were supposed to help me Changbin, what the fuck was that?”

“I’m just telling the truth. Why did you wait so long? Even a simple dinner after your study sessions or something.”

“But I want it to be cuter and more perfect than that, plus I still keep her close and text her every day, she should know I’m serious.”

His friend softly shook his head.

“And why do you keep your distance, huh? Even the smallest, most improvised thing will be the most romantic thing when there’s something between you, stop being controlling for a moment.”

Chan laughed softly, continuing his walk around the campus.

“Seo Changbin, quite the romantic” Chan joked looking at him with a mischievous smile, “Since when are you an expert? Last I heard you are absolutely bitchless.”

Changbin raised his shoulders first feeling a compliment and then an attack, “Hey! fuck you, man, I’ll make my move with Chaeryeong soon, I swear” he joked, taking a drink of his water and suddenly pointing to the front. “Hey, isn’t that Y/n?” Chan looked at once to where his friend pointed, “Who’s she with?”

Chan’s smile collapsed in seconds and his mature ideology of leaving you and giving you your space ended when he saw you in the distance smiling shyly at a boy as you both sat on the grass under a tree.

“I’ll go talk to her. I’ll see you back at the house” Chan coldly warned Changbin to approach you without taking his eyes off you for a second.

Chan’s thoughts began to cloud over… why was a guy out of nowhere approaching you? Almost a month of not being able to be alone with you because you were creating excuses of which didn’t discourage him for a moment because Chan felt and saw in you that you still wanted to have him around… for a stranger to be sweetly sitting next to you as if you were about to have a nice picnic. Please be a gay guy, Chan thought internally.

You both immediately felt Chan’s presence in front of you, you felt something tender and sweet knowing it was him, you smiled being happy to see him…. but it was inevitable not to see him completely from that angle, you were sitting on the floor and he was in front of you, wearing comfortable and sporty clothes, from head to toe, every garment was black, sneakers, socks, his shorts and his black sleeveless shirt tight to his muscular body, his arms looked more toned, with his visible veins and his pale shoulders and neck shined slightly covered in his sweat; his big pectorals stood out as he had across his body his backpack. You tried to hide with a tender smile how incredibly turned on you were getting watching him from below with his perfect body and handsome sweaty face. You knew his schedule perfectly, he had just left the gym.

“Hey, Chan.”

“Hey,” he waved his hand in a fake high-pitched tone, “I was already on my way home so I was passing by the campus but I saw you.”

You let out a nervous giggle, quickly glancing back at his body, he looked so good. He put his hands on his hips and you appreciated his arms and fingers more…. his long veiny fingers, you needed him all of a sudden, watching porn at night trying to study a little about sex, which you knew wasn’t the most viable and the most true, it only made you arouse your sexual desire more, and more towards Chan, one of the best-looking guys in college and you could have him to yourself, you hadn’t been touched in weeks, you hadn’t had a nice interaction with him in a while, you needed him and missed him, you thought about it all the time but seeing him just like this unleashed in you a voracious appetite to have him.

“Ah, you just got out of the gym, right?”

He nodded, “And Sam?”

“Ah, she’s not here because I’m on my tutoring time.”

Chan ran his tongue along his cavity, annoyed. Thinking it was unbelievable that every time he was with you your friend was there but just now she was letting you have alone time but with another guy.

“Oh, I see. We haven’t met… I’m Bang Chan, by the way,” Chan addressed the guy to the side of you.

Chan got angrier that he couldn’t say anything else, that he couldn’t assert authority by introducing himself since there was nothing else to say, you and him were still friends and he couldn’t claim you as his girlfriend. He was jealous. Besides that the guy was an attractive guy, with straight black hair, a manly young face, pretty eyes, and a pronounced cute nose.

“Yang Jeongin.”

Jeongin watched Chan, intimidated and was surprised to see the confidence in which a very popular guy in a fraternity would approach you as he never believed you had that kind of friendships, he thought you were a pretty, sweet and tender girl studying physics, shy and nerdy.

“Oh, he’s a year younger than us, I’m teaching him a little.”

“Outside, like having a picnic? Why not in the study hall?” interrupted Chan, obviously annoyed.

His tone of voice shook you, he looked so attractive when it was obvious he was jealous. It was obvious that the two of you wanted each other intensely, why wait so long to meet again?

“Jeongin suggested lying in the grass for a bit, breathe some air…” you said somewhat shyly, looking into his dark, narrowed eyes.

You needed to touch that grass, how horny you were getting just looking at him wasn’t healthy. You wanted his cock in your mouth, you thought it must feel so good there.

“Oh, so you do whatever Jeongin suggests now?” he mumbled to himself, “I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t go home so late and anything, call me, please. Let me know when you’re home.”

Chan gave you a tender smile and delicately untangled your hair by passing it amicably over your head. You turned your head to watch him leave and hoped he wasn’t angry… besides one thing he would do would be to stay with you until Jeongin left. You sighed, you needed him and that friendly gesture only confused you more.

[…]

And without realizing it, time passed incredibly fast. A month had passed since the last time Chan had touched you, the last time the two of you shared something as intimate as a kiss or a hug. You were coping well, as you remembered him when you came home tired to your apartment and faintly thought about him until you fell asleep, but he was getting more and more desperate, he was finally dying to talk to you but somehow you were appearing less and less in his life.

You were still tutoring Jeongin two days a week - and earning money for it. Still Chan kept a close eye on him, as it was obvious that the boy was showing signs of a crush on you.

And you knew exactly that it had been a month because you were so preciously treasuring the date when you finally had sex. So for the first time you got a little distracted from class and saw him in the distance, his manly presence and beautifully sculpted side profile, you bit your lip, thinking that you should be the one to approach him now because you needed him and you couldn’t wait any longer.

When the class was over you wanted to go after him right away with no plan other than to talk to him, but he had already gone ahead in leaving the place, losing sight of him and leaving you with a strange feeling. Still, that didn’t discourage you, you would go looking for him later, so you had a plan. Finally the afternoon came, you knew the time when he finished his soccer practice, so you decided to surprise him by showing up there.

You felt strange, alone near the bleachers in the soccer field area, you bit your lip looking for Chan, and doubted if it would have been better to send him a message to know if he would be there.

Chan was just finishing his practice when he spotted you in the distance, a huge smile forming on his face. You felt strange, like all the little things you didn't experience in high school you were doing it now, like waiting for the cute guy after his soccer practice, but it was a thousand times better, at least now because the heavy projects, exams, and stressful life of a college student is not ideal, but it was better because you were both adults, Chan was all man who knew exactly what to do and the best part, you lived all alone, you had all the autonomy of your place, so that was exactly your plan, to invite him to your apartment to have some alone time again.

You saw him approach you and for a second you never thought you would be that kind of girl… but you were for Chan and it was worth it, he was cute with you by message and in real life.

“Hey there” Chan greeted you, surprising you and putting you in a good mood.

Once again, he was slightly drenched in sweat, making you nervous at how good he looked even like that, with his forehead vein popping. He was pleased and surprised to see you there, you wore a tender smile and shy presence so he deduced that it was a good thing, that the idea made him blush.

“Hey, Chan… what are you doing tomorrow?”

He was slightly out of breath, “You came all this way to find out?” he played a little, “Tomorrow? I’ll have the game, you have to come, remember?” he said without thinking and then he read your expression and how your slight intentions were off, so now he said more concerned, “Oh, but why? What's wrong?”

He suddenly feared that he had made a mistake, for the first time you showed up there near his space and he was not available, Chan reproached himself for his answer, but it was true that he could not miss the game, but if it was that you wanted to see him then he could dedicate the day before and after the event to you.

You didn’t want it to end like that, not all of a sudden, just resigning yourself. After all, you and Chan needed a very good reward for all the time you didn’t get to spend together, feeling each other’s touch, it was time to help each other and release the stress of the frustrating past weeks.

“Ah, yes yes yes. The game, I’ll be there. And what are you doing today…? Do you want to see a movie, have dinner, and stay at my place?” you mentioned the last sentence looking him in the eyes and almost seductively whispering the invitation.

It was Friday. For the first time, you postponed a project, all to spend more time with him. Chan raised his eyebrows and his smile widened. Wanting to think that there was a hidden message there and he just deciphered it. He was going to have you tonight and every hair on him rose in excitement.

“Aw… you’re inviting me to a sleepover?” he played, flirtatiously, slowly moving closer to you.

You nodded, shyly, “But bring your pajamas.”

He snickered.

“I will,” he replied, taking you after so long, by your waist, raising Chan's mood inexplicably at finally having you close, “Do you want me to pick up dinner when I go?”

He didn’t even know what he was talking about, he just wanted to have excuses to create time and hold your waist longer.

You shook your head, “No, let’s order when you’re at my place” you whispered, lost in him, you wanted to kiss him, so, so, so bad.

“It’s okay. How about if,” Chan checked his Apple watch for a second, “I get to your house at 7? I’ll go take a shower and be on my way.”

You nodded, humming in approval.

“Okay, baby… I see you, then” he whispered to you, both of you without the slightest intention of separating and creating tension.

But you played with him a little, waving goodbye and breaking the tension, you'd be about to see him.

For him, every second together, even with people around, was special, and he treasured it. But nothing compared to finally having your alone time, just you and him and whatever the night brings.

[…]

You were almost wandering around your apartment, thinking that everything is in order and you just kept wandering with uncertainty if what you had planned would work out or if it was a good thing to do, you looked down at your outfit, biting your lips a little nervously and before you could change your mind absolutely, the loud knock on your door almost startled you. Yes, you had given Chan absolute access to your apartment and yes, your plan was to act a little differently.

You mentally braced yourself before opening the door and just as you grabbed for your doorknob, you felt a little itch on the bridge of your nose, completely remembering that you were still wearing your glasses with your whole face with makeup on, you were supposed to wear your contacts but you were so used to the feeling of glasses in your eyes that you sometimes forgot they were there.

Finally, you opened it, leaving Chan breathless just like the last time, a little over a month ago, when he saw you wearing that tight black dress exactly standing behind your door frame, but this time you were wearing a tight and cute pink corset with a tight and tiny miniskirt and, your dirty little secret, was that you weren’t wearing anything underneath this one.

“Wow, you look… beautiful. What’s the occasion? Were you expecting us to go out somewhere?” he spoke, engrossed, looking you up and down.

You looked at Chan, you had no words to describe how much you liked him and how great he looked.

“Not really… I just wanted to dress like this” you replied letting it go, “Do you like it? Make yourself comfortable, do you want anything?”

“I love it” he replied, licking his lips and taking shy steps to the couch in your living room, “Mmm… a coke, it’s okay if you have any or just water.”

Chan left his bag in your foyer. You blushed. You could see his face and hear his soft tone perfectly as he complimented you. Chan almost trembled in nervousness. Seeing you like that just made him shy somehow. Finally being alone, not having touched you, and seeing you wearing something so sexy and provocative that he wasn’t even remotely used to seeing you wear didn’t help him much. He was getting more and more unhinged, but he had to play it cool.

He followed your walk to the kitchen with his gaze, looking slightly cheeky at your silhouette until he lost sight of you and he came across something so dazzling that he let out a soft sigh, the small sight of your bare bottom that barely covered that skirt as you swayed your hips. Chan stretched his arms out towards the couch, licking his lips again this time biting his tongue a little and returning his gaze to the front… thinking that seeing you like this could only have one reason - or at least he was looking forward to it - you were looking to seduce him that night, you were looking for his touch and for more sweet sex after so much; plus his dirty, dark thoughts were triggered by visualizing the image of you wearing tiny panties, a thong, or not wearing anything… or why your ass was exquisitely exposed, at least a small part of it. Chan loved it, loved the little seconds he saw of your ass that drove him crazy, he wanted to aggressively squeeze your skin with passion, making it red.

While you were only focused on one thing, act bolder, bolder, bolder, you wanted to drop the shyness for once and for all, you wanted to take Chan and have him do it too, you wanted to feel that spark between the two of you again and have him give you constant affirmation that what you feel is mutual and exclusive, you wanted him for yourself, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Walking without your panties on and approaching him to initiate something obviously more risqué, hot and sexual, was one of the bold moves you could think of, besides putting on a tight top that accentuated your figure, you wanted to be obvious, but none too much, but you hoped he would understand within seconds. You felt your folds slightly damp with every step you took and it was all thanks to Chan, who looked exquisite in his jeans, white shirt and thin denim jacket.

You bit your lip and gently plopped down on your couch dangerously close to him, handed him the can drink and turned your body, leaning your arm on the couch back and your bare thighs brushing against his, almost with your knees on top of them.

“So… any chance you can win the game tomorrow?” you commented somewhat amused to break the silence and the obvious sexual tension.

Chan’s gaze traveled from your thighs to your notorious chest through the corset to come to a fixed point on your face, killing him with tenderness as your radiant, sweet face, still wearing your glasses, made you look like a tender, sexy smart girl, which he was sure couldn’t be more true.

“Of course, we will win! Why do you say that? Hey, you’ll be there” he jokingly replied.

You laughed softly and watched his long fingers open the can, holding it up to take a sip of his soda. His strong neck—you needed him.

“Mmm… it’s just that we haven’t seen each other in so long," you added somewhat detachedly, engrossed in Chan. “well, we’ve seen each other often, but I guess it wasn’t the same, you know?”

Chan pressed his lips together, wiping any trace of the fizzy drink from his lips, and stared at you, his right hand held the can and with the fingertips of his other hand he began to gently trace random shapes on your thigh, delighting himself with your smooth texture.

“I understand perfectly…. we haven’t had this time alone, but all because of exam week, I know. How did it go, sweetheart?” he whispered, almost breathless and beginning to seduce you with every part of him, his voice, his gaze, everything.

You let yourself be carried away seconds by his touch before responding the same way he did.

“Ah, you know, I’ve been doing well, but it’s kind of stressful.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, honey…”

You blushed again, more so when he spoke to you like that, seductively but with slight concern, over all.

“I know” you continued speaking softly, tilting your head and looking into his dark brown eyes. “But I need the scholarship, living alone near the college area is expensive.”

Chan gave you a half smile, slowly bringing his fine brushes up.

“Aw, baby, that thing about you not having a roommate doesn’t sit well with me. Let me be your roommate…”

You laughed, “You’re crazy” you lifted your arm to play a little with his jacket on his shoulder. “I’d love to, but my dad would kill me, plus you have to give up your fraternity, aren’t you the leader and you have a pact or something?”

He smiled and set the can down on the coffee table.

“Would you like me to live with you?” you nodded not thinking clearly, just thinking that having him around every day would be a dream. “So…? I can quit, they’ll put Hyunjin in my place” he played a little, still taking full advantage of the tension created.

You made an amused expression.

“Hyunjin? He’s not frat boy material, he’ll die on day one.”

The distance was getting closer and closer between the two of you, and you could feel the breathing of both. Chan ran his tongue around the inside of his lips in amusement.

“Huh, what does that mean? That I’m just a frat boy to you?”

You looked at him for a few seconds that seemed long, you analyzed every part of his face and being inches away from each other didn’t help anything but create more tension. You knew he was only joking with you, still, you replied seriously as you were seriously admiring him.

“No… of course you’re not just that. You’re much more than that… I’m sorry… that I’ve strayed a bit…”

He sighed, losing his sanity with every passing second, turned his body a little and put his arm gently over yours to play with your loose hair.

“It’s okay, I understand, honey, college is very important for you.”

But so was he and you couldn’t believe you completely brushed him aside. It was your time to remedy that.

“So... how about you, how were the exam weeks?”

“Good,” he replied simply. “Tired, stressful. I may need a little help for the next exams.”

Now he dropped his hand all the way down to your thigh, stroking it almost to your area, putting it under your tiny garment and squeezing your skin.

You both couldn’t stand it a second longer.

It was your chance to step up and act bolder.

“Mmm... you know I can help you...”

You whispered, his gentle hand squeezing your thigh and seeking even deeper into your sensitive spot. But in one deft movement, you sat gently on his lap, surprising him completely. Chan watched your expression, still with a hint of shyness on your characteristically tender face... but he noticed that there was something completely noticeably different about you, a soft, mischievous smile, beautifully heavy breathing and a lustful gaze begging for more and more.

When his confusion vanished from him, a smile formed and he enjoyed the weight of your body on his lap and began to caress your body.

“Of course, you know how to help me. Smart girl” he murmured close to your lips.

You felt his fresh breath and his big hands run over your waist all the way down to your thighs.

He knew then that you were the mastermind of this little plan, of summoning him there, of dressing provocatively to drive him crazy and of being the one to approach him. He loved it, found it adorable and so damn hot he was still softly hard.

“I missed you, hun” he whispered, taking you by the chin.

You smiled at him and enjoyed every second of what you anticipated the obvious that your heart began to race.

You thought a soft ‘me too’ but couldn’t say it out loud and just leaned in to kiss him.

Chan was surprised each time but accepted it and received your lips sweetly. Finally, after so long, you were enjoying each other.

Your lips met softly, in a delicate act of delighting in the sensation and movements of each other’s mouth, as if you were trying to remember every particle of that soft and delicate muscle. You adored Chan’s lips and kisses. You loved having him close, as did he, in which he enjoyed the warmth of your body on his and your velvety lips painted in soft lipstick.

Chan held your face and squeezed your thigh letting himself go, lost in the sensation of something he longed for and desired so much.

Your hands also went to his face, letting your fingers rest on his soft jaw that moved as he kissed you.

And being out of breath, you parted only short seconds, almost nonexistent centimeters only for you to whisper between his lips in amusement:

“This is the kind of help you need?”

Chan laughed softly, squeezed your thigh tighter, and moved further across to take your lips again, this time faster, frantic and desperate, his restless tongue struggling to find yours, his soft, fluffy lips sensually sucking at your mouth, you kept pace with him and you both released that deep frustration in your being, the abstinence, and desperation for both of you.

You both needed each other, the connection was irremediable. You were making him more and more excited and for you, having his strong and big body close to yours was making you crazy, his hands on you, his nose bumping against your face, your glasses slipping off, you were getting that aching and throbbing sensation in your sensitive clit that only Chan could achieve in you, your folds were wet, sticky, you were making a mess with only his passionate kisses.

It was inevitable for Chan not to start getting completely hard as he was feeling the intensity with which you were responding to him and he was understanding perfectly the situation that you both would let something sexual happen. You, on the other hand, felt his erection bump against your ass as you were sitting right on top of him, you wanted him so badly that almost by reflex you began to move gently to feel his hard cock between the denim of his jeans, causing a soft gasp to come from his lips in between the kiss. Chan continued to stroke your thigh until he reached under your tiny skirt looking to play with your panties, but to his surprise, he found the fine touch of only your skin, you were not wearing panties and the thought made his cock throb.

“Mmm, fuck baby, you’re not wearing panties” he murmured sultrily between your lips, finding a way to abruptly spread your legs apart to pinch and rub your clit. “Like you’re getting your little pussy ready for me to play with.”

You blushed and yet you didn’t stop moving gently on him, you parted but were still with your faces pressed together, feeling each other’s agitated breathing, Chan bit his lip, running his fingers over your soft vaginal lips, letting them enfold your wetness without abandoning the tantalizing movements on your clit with his thumb.

You were so aroused, moaning softly at finally being touched in your much-needed area, you turned your face letting your cheek brush against his nose, and admired his strong veiny arm getting lost in your core; you were flailing and increasingly making a mess but you wanted to act bolder, you wanted to make up for all the times you couldn’t do it and felt you were pushing him away, so you wanted to be the one to take a little initiative and not get completely carried away with something Chan was starting.

“Ch-chan, I want to make you feel good…” you whimpered.

“And you do honey, don’t you? I love playing with your pussy” he whispered in your ear, this time with his fingertips superficially teasing your entrance. “Don’t you like it? God, you’re so fucking wet already.”

“Yes-yes, I do like it.”

“You’ve been stressed, let me take care of you, sweetie.”

Chan was beginning to tease you, his fingers not fully entering all the way to your sweet spot, his thumb tantalizing your clit, you were hopelessly desperate for something stronger, but you didn’t want him to do all the work.

You turned to see him again, his face was focused, his gaze dark and bright with desire; this was your chance, you had to act and stop being shy, do exactly what you wanted and what you wanted was also to provoke him a little. You smiled at him shyly but mischievously, you stirred and found a way to get out of his touch to quickly turn your body, turning your back to him, you held onto his knees and with your red face covered in slight embarrassment but lost in sexual desire, you began to move your hips, slowly and sensually over his crotch. Chan was completely surprised, but he let himself go, realizing your little attempts driving him crazy. Something in him was starting to take over, he found it so hot but tender the way you were surprising him more and more, and suddenly the immense and incredible desire to possess your body, to have you panting and exhausted asking for more.

Chan caressed your back, enjoying the pornographic sight of having your appetizing ass, half-visible through your short skirt, grinding on his cock; he bit his lip and in a desperate move roughly lifted your entire skirt to leave visible your ass and a small part of your exposed labia brushing against the rough denim of his jeans. You gasped, shaking your head and getting impatient, the rough fabric put a tingle in your core and every inch of you that was hard to breathe, you felt the stays of your corset tighten your skin, you longed to fuck him all at once.

“Aw, baby girl’s putting on a show, look at you, like a big girl, fuck, yes, keep doing it, baby” Chan moaned smugly with a rough voice and a cocky grin on his face that you couldn’t appreciate, ”You want to make me cum like this, don’t you, baby doll?”

You didn’t answer, your mind was occupied with the friction in your pussy that lightly battered your core. Your body burned with pleasure and slight embarrassment, you were adjusting to this new version of you but it was comforting to hear Chan's soft gasps and grunts indicating he was enjoying it. Grinding, a tiny lap dance, it was all new to you but you were making your mess in his cloth, pressing your pussy hard on him, managing to stimulate yourself more and more as Chan was having the fucking time of his life. He pulled his hands away from you for a second and watched your hips and ass move, fantasizing about having your pussy around his cock and you riding him exactly with that delicious sequence of movements.

Chan caressed your ass, going to his mind how beautiful it looked, so docile and submissive going in back and forth over his crotch, he squeezed your skin and the incredible desire to dominate you came back to him, like a strong, desperate charge in him. Chan held your hips tightly, lifting your body and forcing you to stop.

“Stay still” he ordered in his harsh voice, he delicately ran a finger between your folds drawing a sigh from you and began to caress your buttocks, “Your skin is so soft, princess…” he squeezed your ass, ”I love your ass, it's so cute… and easy to mark….. I know you're a good girl and can take them all.”

And unexpectedly, your first spanking, made you squeal and flinch in shock.

“You like it don't you, huh? Who knew that the smartest little girl of the class is actually a little whore who enjoys being spanked.”

And Chan continued, spanking you 10 times in all, fascinated with the idea of being the only one who could fucked you up like that, from the sight of your red ass with his hand imprinted on your skin. You whimpered in pain and pleasure, clutching at his knees, you couldn't even stop him, you had loved it, your whimpers and the sound of your skin being pounded filling your apartment, but your ass burned in pain, each spanking had been more intense than the other that you began to tear up slightly, almost like your pussy, wetting the inside of your thighs.

Chan grabbed your hips again, pulling you roughly against his lap again, you moaned at the friction on your ass. You whimpered a soft fuck.

“Keep grinding my cock, baby girl, give me a little show with your beautiful red ass.”

You kept doing it, not sure who could cum first, you wanted to but you were only overstimulating yourself and making your labia more sensitive with the constant friction. You adjusted your glasses and thought about how desperately you needed him so in one swift movement you turned your body, bringing your hands to the buttons of his pants, taking him by surprise.

“What are you doing, princess? Who let you boss yourself around?”

You looked into his eyes and he managed to intimidate you, something about him was so different from the last few times you'd done it, he was making you nervously excited, making your legs tremble. Chan leaned his body, getting closer to you and a smug smile formed on his face as your eyes looked shiny, your cheeks red and your makeup a little messed up. Messed up just how he wanted to have you tonight. You stood still, your hands in the waistband of his jeans; you swallowed nervously and with some embarrassment, you wanted to express your whole truth:

“I want to… feel you” you said in a trembling voice and retracted in seconds, remembering that you were going to leave your shyness behind, “I need you, Chan. I want to feel your cock, I want to fuck you.”

You sounded not needy but sincere and excited, your voice deepening, surprising your lover. Chan bit his lip, never believing you would say that sort of thing, as if the words cock and fuck were taboo coming out of your mouth, dirty and improper; his cock throbbed hard again, finding your dark lustful gaze behind your glasses fucking hot, making him uncontrollably horny to hear you talk like that no matter how immature it sounded… you were his sweet, tender, studious girl, now talking about how much you wanted his cock. It was one of his dirty dreams.

“Then come and get exactly what you want like a bad girl getting away with it.”

You blinked somewhat uncertainly, but with a mischievous smile you pulled down his pants and underwear with a little of his help until they were down to his calves. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of his well-erect cock, twitching as if it had a life of its own, you were scared and excited, thinking it even looked bigger since the last time you fucked. Chan groaned, feeling the release of his aching cock and the sound of him made you look into his eyes, his perfect slitted eyes radiating desire and his countenance and complexion exuding dominance and control. Before you could act, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back onto his lap.

“Make you cum on my cock, princess” his cock lightly pressed against his abdomen, throbbing in pleasure, you looked up at him, accepting your fate and thinking you were going to fuck him like that so you took his length, settling him at your entrance, but he stopped you, “Not like that, not yet, grind on it until you cum like the little slut you're behaving.”

You watched him from the arc of your glasses and positioned his thick cock between your folds, filling them completely, finally bringing the two warm sexes together which caused more than one sigh from both of you.

“Oh Chan” you whimpered and held onto his strong, broad shoulders.

You felt his length on your slick labia, opening your folds wide and rubbing your clit, grinding your wet sex hard against his until you felt every pulsation, it felt so good sliding in that you were making a mess again, this time you were more breathless, panting and feeling your orgasm close. You were eager, agitated and beginning to see stars; you looked down, your pussy hugging his veiny cock, playing with the sensitivity of his skin, his handsome manly face in pleasure as he babbled leaning back on the couch, his hands were on your hips, and you closed your eyes every now and then pushing yourself over the edge.

“Aw, baby, come on, you're going to cum on my cock? Do you like it? Tell me when you're about to cum.”

You gasped loudly in response, it was more than obvious, that what started as slow, sensual movements enjoying every second of the act turned into something faster, frantic, and desperate, looking for the release of your orgasm. Chan felt close as you began to move rapidly into him.

“Ch-channie, I'm about to, to… ah.”

“C'mon you can do it, hun, fuck, I'm close too.”

You panted, burying your hands in his shoulders, sighing heavily until you puffed out your chest and pressed them against your tight corset, when then you felt the intense release that made you embrace him, breathing in his scent as your lower half reacted violently making a mess and twitching its muscles in desperation. Chan cum almost at the same time as you did, making it filthy poetic, covering your folds and your couch in his semen, you experienced his restless cock collapsing in you and Chan cursing as he painfully felt each release spurting out of him after he had held it long enough.

You were both agitated, you were recovering but you were sure that your night was not going to end there. While you were still with your body leaning on his, Chan suddenly unzipped your corset, you pulled away from him to look at him and he was already sliding the garment down your arms to remove it and you let him do it, leaving you with your hard nipples and bare breast. He bit his lower lip beginning to caress them again entering your endless cycle of pleasure, it had been so long without having each other that you were both aware that your first orgasm was just almost a little warm-up, but you were so aroused by the intensity of it even though it wasn't the main act. Chan leaned close to your ear, whispering:

“Stand up, now.”

Tired, you obeyed him without a second thought, Chan did the same; you smiled happily at him, finding him adorable, despite being in the dirty act, his countenance and the fact that you were together enjoying each other was lovely, so you impulsively sought his lips, wanting to feel him again, you did so for a few short seconds but he didn't follow your act and instead surprised you with his hand on the back of your neck tugging your hair slightly to pull you away from him.

“You think I haven't noticed how much of a whore you've been acting… from the moment I got here… walking around with no underwear on… I think you've been a very, very bad girl.”

You watched him, his arm holding your hair looked so appealing and his kind of behavior excited every part of you, as if he wanted to assert authority and you were about to give in completely. You liked this Chan and you were just hoping for more intense sex by continuing to be treated like this.

“I just… wanted to stop being shy, like you said. Being a bad girl is asking for your cock?” you played, looking at him with big, bright eyes in false innocence.

His cock throbbed again, you were hitting him right in his most sensitive spot, your sweet naivety and innocence, it was obvious now you wanted to experience something harder and he was about to give it to you.

“I hope you know how bad girls are treated, provocative little sluts like you… they are treated for exactly what they are. On your knees now.”

Chan had fantasized about his cock in your mouth so many times that today was the perfect occasion when you were both needy and open to so many things because of the abstinence you had. Just when it was obvious you wanted to be used and he couldn't miss the opportunity.

You played with his shirt before getting on your knees, indicating that you wanted him to remove his clothes and he understood your subtle message, taking off his jacket and shirt, leaving you drooling at the sight of his muscular abdomen and erect cock in front of your face once you were on your knees. Your heart pounded.

“Take it all, little slut, use it like you know how, I want to fill your whole mouth with me” Chan moaned, watching you from above, taking your hair in a fist.

You had stopped being brave for a second and rose to look at him as you held his erection. He read your docile expression, your bright eyes in a gaze he knew well and adored with a mad passion, your look of uncertainty and innocence.

“Take it, baby girl, use your mouth and hands. You'll do fine.”

Chan smiled, grabbing his erection and running it down your cheek and around your lips. You stuck out your tongue, tasting his pink glans, running your tongue around his opening to taste every drop of his previous cum and his oozing pre cum, as if you were scooping a delicious ice cream. His taste and sensation filled every inch of you and with a little more confidence, you licked his entire warm, pulsating, wet length, still having room to feel him between your hands and stroke his cock. You were so excited and thrilled to explore absolutely everything about oral sex that you did your best to wrap your lips over his member to have absolutely the whole experience, you licked and licked, following his veins around it, reveling in the pulsing sensation of his needy sex and the gasps of an also needy Chan.

“That's right, baby, you're doing great, fu-fuck, play with my balls a little too” Chan whimpered.

Your ears twitched, almost thinking, oh, I'd forgotten and your hands massaged his sensitive soft testicles, not sure what you were doing but you licked them a little as you'd seen it was something that could be done, earning you from Chan a muffled moan and throwing his head back.

“Fuck, you're a naughty girl. Now put it in your mouth, come on, baby girl. Open your mouth.”

You salivated at his thick, raspy voice and did just as he commanded, his length filling your cavity and rubbing against the inside of your cheeks. You gasped with your mouth full, it felt so good in a way. In and out of you, enveloping your tongue and lips. Chan watched you, your gaze behind those glasses, your delicate mouth filled with his member were taking him to heaven, like never before, in a way it looked so dirty coming from you, on your knees with your breasts exposed and your mouth drooling and hands occupied with his big cock, Chan wanted to treasure the moment forever, besides the sensation that rocked the deepest in him, it was the best oral sex he had ever had and all because it was you giving it to him. You held onto his thighs, caressed his pubic skin and brought your hand up to touch his abs a little. Chan guided you gently, pushing your head and you found the perfect rhythm, bobbing your head, it was hot the first few moments, but desperately hot the next, your nose and eyes started to get sensitive, your jaw ached but it was worth every second.

Chan loved the slight imperfection of your act, but stopped being soft and tender as he said to you:

“I'm going to fuck your throat until it hurts to talk, baby girl.”

He started thrusting, you didn't even get a chance to whine fighting that it was too big, when he answered himself.

“You can take it, you can do it-fuck.”

His erection was reaching further and further down your throat, it brushed your uvula and for a second you felt embarrassed for your gag reflex but he continued to thrust until he reached a point you didn't think possible in your throat. You watched him, your eyes begging for mercy but he took no pity on you and began to fuck your throat and mouth, ramming you until you were sore. You squeezed your legs together, feeling your fluids slipping from how uncontrollably aroused you were. It felt so good, so wrong, your poor mouth being abused your first time. Chan grunted and whimpered, turning him on the image of you struggling with his big cock.

“Fuck, you're taking it so good. I'm about to cum” a high pitched moan escaped his lips, “Yes, yes-yes-yes- fuck” he began to babble.

Tears began to flow out of you again… thinking if it was that desperate and hot your pussy felt on its own. You could taste his orgasm, his pumping cock getting closer and closer until he cummed in your mouth, choking you a little once again. Chan grunted loudly, putting his head back and returned to pull his cock out of your mouth and messily left shots of his cum on your face. You took a deep breath and not knowing what exactly to do you swallowed heavily his cum and smiled proudly.

“Fuck, baby girl, did you swallow it? Good girl. Look at you.”

Chan stroked your already tousled hair, pushing the stuck hair away from your forehead by your light layer of released sweat. He took his cock in his other hand and kept rubbing it on your face, proud to have left you in such a state. Needy, messed up with cum on your sweet face.

“Good girl. Come here, sit on the couch, it's your turn.”

You nodded and obeyed him with a silly, deluded smile on your face, you were happy to please him and felt the night had no end. Chan now undressed himself, freeing himself of his jeans and underwear and got down on his knees in front of you, he removed your skirt, leaving you vulnerable and naked, for the first time in front of him.

“You are beautiful. I want to make you mine” he whispered.

He moved closer to your face, you playfully bit your lip, from every angle and distance he was so attractive to you that, still delusional you held his face in your hands as he tentatively kissed you, his hand again playing with your pussy. His lips moved down and you caressed the curls of his hair as he did the same act he did the first time you were together, sizzling kisses down your body until he reached your sensitive cunt. He feasted on your breasts and nipples before he got down there and kissed your skin and clit, driving you wild.

“Use your words, little girl, what do you want now?” he asked, his hands squeezing your thigh, his breath on your pussy.

You didn't think about it, “Chan, please…eat my-pussy. I need it.”

“You need it?” he chuckled softly.

He admired the sight of your swollen, wet pussy, it was going to be a pleasure to taste you, and he adored it. He slapped moderately hard on your vulva making it more flushed, flinching you and finally, his lips encircled your pubis and part of your labia to suck exquisitely on your clit. You moaned, still stroking his hair.

“Mmm, Channie-”

You lost your mind as soon as he rubbed his face on your clit, shaking his head. This time he focused on your sensitive spot, playing with your folds, spreading and joining them in constant motion stimulating you while his mouth and tongue tortured your clit, biting, sucking, and teasing it with movements with the tip of his tongue, staring at you as he made you lose your mind.

You arched your back, Chan knew you were close, he stroked your clit with his finger and lowered his mouth to the rest of your vulva making you whimper, sloppy licks with his thick, warm, naughty tongue across your labia, sucking them until he reached your throbbing entrance. You were so close again and Chan began to penetrate you with his tongue, pressing his nose into another sweet spot of yours in the process. You babbled his name in a desperate search to climax your ecstasy.

“Cum in my mouth, cum in my mouth, baby-make a mess” his voice vibrated in your core and earned with it the intense mess of your orgasm.

Chan licked your orgasm, making you shudder. You were tired, your limbs trembling. The excitement was already a pleasurable burden on your body and with Chan, there was still no end to it.

“Your pussy is so swollen and beautiful baby girl, it's all ready for me to fuck you.”

You looked him in the eye and didn't protest, “Come on,” he gasped as he carried you and you let yourself be hold by him to your bed to lay your naked body on it.

You were hoping for the best, to finally be filled by him, even though you knew it was going to hurt because of his size, the feeling was hotly indescribable, it was what you wanted all along, to be fucked by him. The foreplay had been intense, your body was already tired but you thought you were ready for the last act. Chan positioned himself, stroking his erect cock and leaned down, his thumb wiping the rest of cum on your face, then sliding and inserting his finger into your mouth.

You needed him now. Your mind forgot about the existence of condoms in your drawer, you wanted Chan to fuck you at once. Chan smiled, his lips glistening for your orgasm.

He pulled his finger away from your mouth and sweetly took your lips, tasting a bit of the other and gradually raised the tone of the kiss until he left you breathless with your lips swollen, begging for more of the feel of his lips with yours.

“I'll make you mine, my cum in your mouth and everywhere. I'm going to fill your tight little pussy up, baby.”

Your body trembled in excitement, you couldn't resist it anymore, and you almost begged in supplication, following his game.

“Chan, please fuck me I want your cum inside me. I need your cum inside me so bad.”

He went back to playing with his thumb around your mouth.

“Look at you, baby girl, begging and saying please when I'm going to fuck you hard. Break you in two. I won't be gentle.”

He sentenced, fulfilling his words and ramming his cock violently into your pussy, opening wide your entrance and causing you to scream. Chan admired the bulge formed in your belly, running his thumb finely over your skin. He was deep inside you, ramming into your cervix, filling every space of your walls. You whimpered but his pumping sex had never felt better, pulsing, warm and wet, living the full experience of his veins being squeezed through your walls. Chan first used you, to you adjust to his size, taking you by the waist and using your body, manipulating it with ease and roughness sliding on his cock.

He admired his member being consumed by your entrance, your tightness choking him and his tip pounding to your limit.

“Cha-channie, please” you whimpered in pain and pleasure, still wanting to make a mess of his cock. “God, you feel so good.”

Sounds of your soaked pussy colliding with his dick began to make themselves present.

“So-fucking tight, baby girl, fuck, fuck.”

When Chan sensed that you were adjusting, which wasn't quite true, he began to move, ramming you bestially, moving his hips in a rhythm, bumping your skin, and releasing every frustration in you. You whimpered and embraced him as soon as he leaned into you, his skin rubbing and teasing your clit with each deep thrust. You dug your nails into his back and clamped your legs closely together to his body, once again apart from the sizzling pain in your pussy, the burning pain in your belly indicated another successful and intense orgasm with Chan appeared.

Chan cursed at the feel of it, the muscles of your spongy walls clenching him and your grip on him growing tight, your nails marking his pale skin and broad back, never ceasing to pound into you and babbling in the stars, close to your ear.

“Cha-chan, please, I'm gonna cum...”

“Do it, baby, fuck, cum.”

You arched your back in pain, rolled your eyes because he was hitting your sweet spot before climaxing, squealed getting restless, and collapsed under his body with every muscle in your vagina acting on his constantly moving cock. Chan moaned and did not stop thrusting you until he reached his orgasm. After short moments you again climaxed more gently, but intensely for him.

“Fuck-mmm, baby, fuck, I'm gonna fill you up. I'm gonna make you mine forever ahh-”

He grabbed your neck without choking you and cum intensely deep inside your core, leaving his member sensitive, satisfied, and used. Chan slid his cock out of you, leaving you with the sensation of a huge emptiness combined with the tingle of your muscles collapsing and his cum spurting out of your hole. He rested his cock on your belly, still climaxing loudly, rubbing his aching cock with his hand and leaving more cum on your skin. His orgasm was long and wonderful and managed to make him exhausted and shaken.

Chan dropped his body to the side of yours, seeking your closeness and comfort, hugging you and hiding his face in your chest.

“Holy shit, baby, that was amazing. Did you like it? I'm tired, but I can fuck you like that every fucking day.”

You were surprised that he was with his face tenderly hidden in your chest, hugging you, but you accepted it with a smile and started stroking his hair. Both of you breathing heavily.

“I loved it, Chan.”

“Me, too, sweetheart” he lifted his face to look at you, his tone was softer and his sweet gaze now reflected sweetness and almost seeking affection, you were impressed by the incredible change. “I hope I wasn't so hard on you, next time we can change, you can tell me anything...”

“I loved it” you interrupted him.

“Doesn't your cute ass hurt anymore?” he pouted adorably, his hands traveling to your butt to caress it.

You shook your head, laughing softly. He looked so tender as if he hadn't moved your guts less than five minutes ago. His eyes sparkled and he looked so soft with his curly hair falling down his forehead.

“Okay” he smiled, “I needed this. I needed you” he caressed your waist. “Can I ask you one thing now?”

Post sex was making you drowsy, you were tired and the warmth of Chan's body felt so good.

“Mmm?” you hummed.

“Let's go out... on dates, let me get to know you more and more. I want to make you my girlfriend, y/n. I want to be your boyfriend” Chan spoke, sweet and needy.

Sleepiness left your body and your heart raced as it was everything you had dreamed of all along... you finally knew he meant it. You looked at him, blinking softly.

“And I want to be your girlfriend, Chan.”

————————

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @cherricola-star @lolareadsimagines @jisuperboard @lilac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-sssne @khandzilla @oddracha

[millieisawriter]

Too much to handle

micah bell x reader

summary: you find micah sitting alone during jack's return party and decide to mess around with him

wc: 1.4k

warnings: suggestive content

♡the pic in the middle belongs to @missusarthurmorgan and this fanfic was in general inspired by this post♡

pics on the right and on the left are taken from pinterest

The gang had been in a gloomy mood when Jack got kidnapped, and they did everything they could to get him back. Dutch, as crazy and erratic as he is, took the kidnapping very seriously, and a few days later Jack was safe and sound in Abigail's arms. It seemed even as if John started to care, finally taking up the role of the father.

Of course the safe return had to be celebrated. Any reason was a good reason to get at least a little tipsy on whiskey, so no one complained about the idea. At first, all of you gathered around the fire, Jack in his mother's lap, everyone singing while Javier played a cheerful melody on his guitar.

Eventually it got really late, and Abigail decided it was the time for Jack to sleep, against the little boy's protests that he wasn't tired at all. And as the two of them disappeared inside Shady Belle, the rest of the gang continued opening new bottles of whiskey, and the songs got more and more inappropriate, one worse than the other.

You were never the one to shy away from this type of activities. With a bottle in your hand, you shamelessly sang the lyrics, "The ring dang doo, now what is that? It's soft and round like a pussycat. Got a hole in the middle and it's split in two and that's what you call the ring dang doo!"

Javier sat by the table, strumming the melody, and other seats were occupied by Uncle, Karen, and miss Grimshaw. You had to stand, holding Karen's shoulder for balance support, but you didn't mind.

"A dollar for each, and three for two to take a crack at my ring dang doo!" Because there was nothing that could stop you from belting out those dirty lyrics in your not-the-most-sober state.

But as you looked away, your gaze landed on Micah sitting alone by the campfire. He seemed relaxed, leaning back against one hand, a cigarette in the other, and his hat tipped slightly to the side as he smoked.

Ever since Micah became a part of the gang, you never really saw him make any effort to socialize. Even as a gang member, he was a lone wolf. Partly because he chose to, and partly because his aura was so... unpleasant that others just didn't desire to become his friends. And now, even though the campfire was usually the place where a bunch of gang members would sit and talk, Micah was sitting there alone.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the thrill of getting on his nerves, but you decided to abandon the singing group at the table and wander over to Micah.

"Is the lone wolf too good for our little sing along?" You asked, your voice playfully teasing. "You're missing out on all the fun, but I guess it ain't nothing new."

"Not the kinda fun I'd like to have," he scoffed, "you seem to be enjoying it for the both of us, though."

You couldn't help but sigh as you plopped down next to Micah. "Quit being so grumpy, old man."

"I just don't find amusement in singing about... pussycats and ring dang doos."

You watched as he brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a drag. He didn't let the smoke leave his mouth before he spoke again.

"Like, really? Ring dang doo?" He coughed. "Who comes up with these names?"

He was annoyed by your presence. Every time you talked to him, it was too much to handle. In a way you were a tease, whether consciously or not. The tone of your voice alone was enough to get Micah's imagination working. And the fact that you very often chose the dresses that were rather revealing on top only made it worse.

Even in that moment, he found it hard to focus on your face. Not like your pretty face with slightly smudged makeup did any help at all with distracting Micah from his imagination.

"It's just a silly song!" You giggled drunkenly. "Don't tell me you're too high and mighty for the good ol' ring dang doo."

The song didn't speak to Micah's soul. Even if it did, he wouldn't admit it. However, the thing the song talked about was something he could say he had an interest in.

"Doesn't take much to be too high and mighty for a song about how a girl became a whore. Seems to be your personal favorite, I wonder why."

"I just like having fun!"

You took him by surprise when you took the cigarette from between his fingers and brought it up to your own lips. And he took you by surprise when he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he just watched you taking a long drag. And you made sure to keep eye contact with Micah, even if your gaze was a little hazed with alcohol.

And then he was sure. You were doing it on purpose, every time. You were a tease, always giving him enough to keep him wanting more. Like in this moment, when he wished you'd look up at him like that with something way bigger between your lips than that cigarette.

"Having fun, huh?" Micah's voice was laced with slight frustration. He didn't want to take care of it on his own again, or having to pay for a cheap whore just to tell her to shut up so that he can visualize you in her spot. "Does having fun also mean playing with men like they're your little toys?"

You exhaled a cloud of smoke, it lingered lazily between the two of you. "And what if I do?" You asked, smiling mischievously as you tilted your head to the side. "Maybe I just like the attention."

That earned a chuckle from him. Of course you liked the attention, this was obvious.

"Can't say I blame you. But see, that's the thing about playing games... eventually someone has to call the bluff. Keep that up, and one day you'll find yourself in trouble."

"That so?" You teased him further, liking the reaction. "Let's hope one day I'll find a man who can keep up with my games."

That struck a nerve in Micah. He wanted to grab you, and show you how easily he could be that man. "I could keep up with you just fine, but the problem is you're too damn scared to follow through with any of that teasing, ain't ya?"

It wasn't a question you were simply supposed to answer, it was a challenge you were supposed to take up. And maybe alcohol made it just a little easier. "I ain't too scared."

"I'll believe it when I see it." He leaned in closer, enough to make your pulse race.

There was a heat in his gaze you haven't seen before, and everything that was happening outside of that little bubble you and Micah were in didn't really matter anymore.

"And I've been waiting too long already." He whispered, his hand finding your chin, and his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

You wanted to believe it was the alcohol that made you take his thumb in your mouth, tasting the lingering flavor of nicotine on his skin. You looked at Micah through your eyelashes, and he had to shift in spot to hide a certain emotion you woke in him that was easily visible in the sudden tightness of his pants.

He looked at you entirely captivated, letting his thumb linger in your mouth as you softly sucked on it, using your tongue in barely visible movements.

He spoke, "I think you're ready to stop playing games with me."

You pulled away, your mouth making a quiet pop sound. "Maybe I am, or maybe I like to lead you on."

It was infuriating and electrifying, the way he looked at you as if he already knew he could easily have you in seconds. But before any of you could say anything else, laughter coming from the table you had left shattered the tenstion, and you heard Karen calling out your name.

"Come on!" The girl waved at you from the table. "You ditchin' us for Micah?"

You smirked, standing up. "Guess we gotta leave it for another day." You stated, turning around to return to the table. Micah's gaze lingered on you for a long time, even when you were out of reach, his eyes remained locked on you.

[the-scungles-of-crungles]

Btw I've kinda maybe sorta fallen in love with Cloud from final fantasy

[stars-n-kites]

really an inexplicable train of thought but i feel like taako is the kind of person who in a modren era au would just decide to go to a shooting range and learn how to shoot a pistol for funsies, but would consider learning to spin the pistol all cool like they do in cowboy movies to be his first and foremost priority. like hes already bought a holster and the moment he is given a gun he immediately starts trying to twirl it. the instructor has to tell him to stop or theyll take the gun away from him. he keeps trying to lead the conversation back to it anyway because he really feels like theyre putting the cart before the horse here if hes learning how to shoot the gun before even knowing how to dramatically reholster it if he were to get in some sort of cowboy duel. hes actually really good at the shooting part but he gets kicked out of the class after his eighth guntwirling attempt in which he accidentally flicks the safety off mid twirl and shoots one of their light fixtures

[kagoutiss]

the newly vassaled gerudo king is inexplicably handed a baby

[palaceoftears]

Magnificent Century Rewatch: One Picspam per Episode

Episode 17: The Double Joy

-My dear mother used to say "walk barefoot on earth and it shall take away all your troubles and sorrows, earth shall give you happiness and joy"

-Your mother spoke well, one can only find peace in earth. But I'm not sure if it is on earth or in it.

[nico-di-genova]

Love that people come to ask me things about Alex sometimes. I feel like I’m being pop quizzed. I hope I’m getting an A+ in Rossi lore 😌.

[peony-pearl]

GOD!!! I love Iroh

[tacticalprincess]

how would konig react to reader getting jealous?? ps i love ur writing!!

jealousy is könig’s weakness. in his twisted brain, it’s one of the upmost proofs of devotion. you wouldn’t be this worked up if you didn’t truly care about him, and that thought makes his heart swell in his chest and his dick fill in his pants.

watching you pout and refuse to talk to him after he was oblivious to some civilian flirting with him— grazing her hand along his bicep, batting her eyelashes up at him— he would be so confused at first. he thought she was just thanking him for his service, why are you dragging him away now? it all clicks for him when you mutter “more like begging you to touch her cervix” and he can’t help but smile to himself. so you fear losing him just as much as he does you? (that may be a stretch, but he’ll choose to believe it.)

he loves the role reversal, it’s about time you get a taste of how he feels about you on a daily basis. the head rush it gives him to see you care about him so much is addicting. he’ll start purposefully putting himself in position to be flirted with, which is getting increasingly easier when he’s clad in all his military gear— unfortunately for you, women love freakishly tall masked men nowadays. the way you wrap yourself around him, making your presence known and staking your claim on him for everyone to see, makes him want to give you everything. he surrenders so easily, letting you drag him home and forgetting all about the faceless person he used to make you upset. you’re just so adorable and possessive when you’re jealous, he can’t take it seriously. it always ends the same; him comforting you, swearing he’ll never leave, as you bounce yourself silly on his broad lap.

“‘s my cock, right, köni? tell me it’s mine.”

“it’s yours, liebe. every inch.” his voice is wobbly and shaky with adoration, looking up at you like you hung the stars whilst you work yourself on his meaty, throbbing dick. gummy walls clenching him tightly, almost threatening. you’ll tell him no one could handle his fat cock expect for you, empty his heavy balls like you can, and he’ll go cross eyed, “die fraumeiner träume— fucking made for it. the only cunt i’ll ever need.”

it’s hard not to believe him when he goes all stupid like this, ready to pray to god just because the feeling of you can’t be explained by anything natural. you have nothing to worry about, schatz, can’t you see you’ve ruined everyone else for him?

[cherrymoon4]

Suguru hates the taste of curses. He hates the aftertaste that persists in his mouth, that doesn’t leave no matter how hard he brushes his teeth or how much sickening sweet candy Satoru gives him.

Even when hours pass, no matter how many boiling hot showers he takes, nothing takes away the disgusting feeling that swallowing down curse after curse brings.

He has tried everything, every single thing that comes to mind to not have the aftertaste of a vomit soaked rag stuck to him for hours.

But nothing works, he is sure of that, he reminds himself as he leans over the bathroom sink, trying not to throw up after another “successful” mission and another curse swallowed.

As he takes deep breaths, trying to come up with something, anything, that could help him, he hears a knock on the door, followed by your gentle voice asking if he’s okay.

He’s always seen you as one of his closest friends, the one that is there for when he feels like no one can help him; when he knows Shoko is too busy with her own shit, and Satoru could only try to come up with a joke and probably wouldn’t take him seriously, he knows that the one he can always turn to is you.

Soft, sweet little you. Too kind for your own good, with a heart too big for your petite form. So selfless, always worrying over ‘Sugu’ even when he doesn’t deserve it, even when he pushes you away, not wanting to stain your pure self.

Just like right now, as he contemplates whether to let you in or tell you to leave. He pictures your pretty face in his mind, how it probably is adorned with worry and concern, your doe eyes big and glassy.

His heart clenches at the thought of you walking away all sad after he told you to leave. He can’t bring himself to push you away.

So he tells you come in, he just wanted to reassure you after all. But when he sees you coming in and rushing to check him over for any injuries, clad in your fluffy pajamas and fuzzy socks, his mind fills with images of him doing everything but reassuring you.

And that’s how he discovers that there is, in fact, something that can help him out.

He knows that this is all he needs, your pretty cunt in his face is where he belongs.

Your plushy thighs around his head and your sweet juices smeared on his cheeks are just what he needs to forget everything about curses and the awful feeling that they leave him with.

He reprimands you for keeping your heavenly pussy from him all this time; how could you be so selfish :(

He laps at your folds like a starved man, moaning in your cunt like he’s the one getting eaten out. And he’s so messy too! After all, how could he not be when he finally found the perfect treat to solve his problem?

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re such a messy girl mh?” he grunts, like he’s not the one turning his head side to side to smear your juices all over his face.

“This pretty pussy loves me so much, doesn’t she? Gushin’ around my tongue like that, bet it wants me to fill her up too..” he says as he toys with your puffy pussy and swollen clit, looking up to see you all dumb and stupid, babbling something about how it’s “t-too much!”.

But you clearly don’t know what you need, not when your hole keeps getting wetter and wetter.

“It’s not too much, silly girl. You can take it, I know you can. You want your Sugu’ to be happy, don’t you baby? You wanna be my good girl, yeah?”

And how can you deny him? You do want to be his good girl, his best girl!

So you spread your legs wider for him and let him lap at your messy hole, and you don’t even complain when you feel his thick cock prodding at your entrance, stretching your pussy nice and full :3

hello ^^ ( thank you sososo much for the love on the other posts! send me requests if you want :P )

[boltwrites]

Kitty

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: M Tags: Suggestive, Logan's cat ear hair, Teasing

Synopsis: Sleep-addled and maybe a little horny, you ask Logan if he does his hair like that on purpose.

A/N: Fun fact about this one - you could replace reader with Deadpool and the fic would probably be the exact same (but probably with more stabbing). Enjoy! Also I almost titled it Kittyuuuuuhhhh but decided against it LMAO. Is this good? No. But I needed to expel it like some kind of demon. Anyway-

You made a soft pleased noise, arching your back as you stretched as far as you could under the thin sheet of your shared bed. Muscled warmed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking blearily against the morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

You smiled - sleepy and sweet - as you propped yourself on your elbows to see the figure sat at the foot of your bed. Logan was already awake and halfway dressed, jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over to tug on his boots. Meanwhile, here you were - still in the oversized T-shirt you used as pajamas, your hair messy from sleep.

On that thought, your eyes drifted from where they had been admiring the taunt planes of his back, to Logan's own styled hair. He'd already brushed it, those little tufts that curled into what looked like tiny devil horns neatly defined in the soft morning light.

You frowned. Hmm, no, devil horns wasn't quite right. Not really.

You sat up, a hazy plan dancing through your mind as you crawled your way to the end of the bed. Logan glanced back at you - your heart flipped at the soft smile he offered you, making no effort to shy away from your touch.

"Hey, you don't have to get up because of me," he chided. You didn't listen - instead, you draped your arms around his warm shoulders, leaned in to pepper little kisses along his jaw, even if his beard caught most of them. You didn't mind how it tickled.

"But you're wearing my favorite outfit," you insisted, doing your best not to chuckle. You did like him in worn out jeans and no shirt. It looked good on him. Everything looked good on the man, though.

"I'm wearing half an outfit," he replied, turning just enough so that he could press a proper kiss to your lips. You sighed, pillowing your head on his shoulder as his lips met yours - lazy, gentle. Those weren't words you'd use to describe his kisses at any other time of day, really. This was special.

"I know," you replied, offering him a silly smile as you leaned against his shoulder, arm around his chest preventing him from dressing any further. He didn't seem to mind, though, as your free hand carefully carded your way through his hair - making sure not to displace any of his hard work.

"But something I don't know..." you continued, twirling a finger around the tip of one of the tufts. "Is why your hair ends up like this. Do you do it on purpose?"

"Do I do what on purpose?" he asked. It was laced with a chuckle, like he thought this was one of your half-awake musings. And, perhaps it was, in a way. You were, technically half-awake. But you weren't making things up. It was a real question that had crossed your mind on several separate occasions.

"You know-" you insisted, releasing that little bit of hair from your grasp. "The kitty ears."

"The what?"

He laughed it, pulled away from you if only to make sure you caught a glance of his expression - a mixture of shock and amusement that telegraphed to you that he still wasn't taking you seriously.

You rolled your eyes at him, removing your hand from around his shoulders to scratch along his scalp, up to that little tuft of curled hair. He closed his eyes, made a low rumbling noise in his throat that only seemed to further the illusion that he was really just some big cat in disguise.

"The kitty ears," you insisted, "do you or do you not purposefully style your hair so you have these little kitty ear things?"

You sat up on your knees, reaching both your hands up to curl in the tufts - tugging them just hard enough to make his eyes flutter open as he looked up at you.

"Cat ears," he deadpanned, doubt lacing his words. "You think my hair looks like cat ears."

"Kitty ears," you clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "And you didn't answer my question, which means you absolutely do it on purpose."

"No-" Logan started, tone exasperated. But, unfortunately for him, he was already in too deep.

"Nope, sorry-" you laughed, sitting down behind him to wrap your arms around his bare chest, brushing through the downy hair there. "You're my little kitty now."

"Jesus Christ-" he groaned, rolling his eyes as you kissed his cheek. You made to kiss the corner of his lips next, but he turned his head ever so slightly, trying his best to quell the smile that was spreading. He'd just wanted you to pay attention as he insisted:

"I'm not a fucking cat."

"Why not?" you teased, kissing just under his ear with a little smile. "You've got the ears..."

You snaked a hand up to card through his hair again - making sure to rake your blunt nails along his scalp like you knew he loved. And, despite his dismissive tone, you caught his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"The claws..." you teased, punctuating each word with a new open-mouthed kiss to his neck - the last dotted with a touch of teeth that issued a sweet rumble from low in his throat.

"The fur-" your free hand slid down his chest - down the dips and curves of his defined abs, to tangle in the thicker hair that disappeared below the waistline of his jeans.

"And, I know how to make you purr," you chuckled, fingers dancing at the edge of his belt as your other hand weaved through one of those silly little kitty ears.

Logan wasn't immune to the way you touched him - when he laughed at your ridiculous comments, it was a bit breathless, even if he sounded absolutely exhausted with your antics.

"I have to get dressed," he insisted, his hand drawing over your own where you'd just started to wiggle your fingers under the tight denim. "And you're being ridiculous."

"Hmm," you hummed, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The muscles there jumped, tensed, then relaxed - and where he'd been grasping at your hand, your fingers briefly intertwined.

"If I remember correctly..." you pondered, nuzzling against his neck. "Kitties don't wear clothes."

"Oh, come on-" he groaned, laughing as he leaned back against your chest, his head pillowed on your shoulder. You grinned down at him. "How long are you gonna keep this shit up?"

"Until you're sick of it," you promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. "Or, you take your pants off."

"We both know you'll keep saying it even if I take my pants off," he countered, his hold on your hand the only thing preventing you from inching your way into his pants.

"Touché. But -" you bargained. "I'd be distracted."

He laughed, loud and full, and your smile grew even more. That - that's what you really liked. When you could finally get some honest joy out of him. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, even if it was brief. His hand squeezed over yours - soft, possessive, loving. That made your heart flutter even more than the thought of getting him undressed.

But he was right - you were never going to let him live this down.

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Lawyer Husband x GN Spouse Reader HCs

CW: mafia related stuffs

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

Yan! Husband is a gentle soul to you, he can't and will never lay a finger with the meaning to hurt you! He just doesn't have the strength to do so, almost as though he was set to be so. It's another whole story when it comes to the others though, can you guess how many times he has pulled the trigger of a gun?

Yan! Husband who spoils you rotten with everything you could ever think of. Luxuries, reputations but never the forbodden knowledge he has tried so hard to keep away from you. No, he won't clip your wings. You are his songbird who gets to only fly inside the gilded cage but never in the outside world. He will create a stage of the outside world for you, but never the real deal.

Yan! Husband who paints a portrait of you whenever he's stressed over the cases he has to handle. To move the brush without any problem as your form starts to appear on the blank canvas, he has no trouble remembering you. Sculpting is no problem for him as well. He has spent all his lives honing his artistic skill just to eternalize you as pieces of art.

Yan! Husband loves you so much that he deems children as a burden and bothersome (adoptive too). He only needs you to build a family, he had no need for children to continue this lineage. His whole life revolves around you. If you pass away, he too, will pass away shortly after. That's how much he loves you to the point that death cannot separate you two.

Yan! Husband who might not look like he's able to do it but he is actually an S-rank gaslighter. He will trick you into believing that what he is suggesting is only to keep you safe! He doesn't really enjoy taking your autonomy directly unless it's needed (of course, in a way where you will not confront him about it).

Yan! Husband who will cover and remove all your bad track records (if you have any). He has the power and connection to erase any kind of dirt that is on you, you are his pristine pure lily-of-the-valley and you should not be defiled with those records. Live without any worry clouded in your mind dear, the laws will never tarnish your reputation when you have this lawyer backing you ^^

Yan! Husband who adores any sort of physical touch when it comes to you, yes, anything. Even if you hit him silly, he'd still love every moment your skin feels his. He loves hugging you the most, his face buried into the crook of your neck while taking a scent of you.

Yan! Husband who enjoys humming lullaby of yours to the point everyone's ears around him is bleeding from the repeating lullaby. Can this guy please hum something else for once?

Yan! Husband who will read for you whenever he has the time to sleep with you. He doesn't know what to say to you as his work is either foreign to your brain or a tad too shady. Childhood memories are not great too as he has long forgotten about everything the moment he pledges eternal vow to love you. He abandoned everything and lives only for you.

Yan! Husband who prioritizes you as his number one, even above his own well-being and career. He can still live even if he falls ill, his career would never fall out of track as he has the mafia under his grasp, but you can slip out of his grasp. And he doesn't want that to happen again.

Yan! Husband is without a doubt an infamous lawyer. Especially with how many times he has let the ringleader of that renowned mafia group slip out from the prosecutor and judge's grip? If you seriously think you'll be pronounced guilty of that murder, you better throw that thought out just like how he throws all the scapegoats and falsified evidence into the court. (Should I write a fic for this?)

Yan! Husband who will always make time for the two of you. While vacations are not as often as he wishes he could have, cuddles and tea parties sound nice enough for him to kill time with you.

Yan! Husband who has this cute journal that's filled with what you have been doing every day instead of his own daily stuff. Oh, your diary is almost his if you know how he reads it daily like a refreshment.

Yan! Husband who as much as he hates having to show you to the people at the official parties and events he has to attend, he just can't shake away the butterflies in his stomach as well! You are not just some trophy spouse, you are his beloved! A hand on your waist and a face that is seen whispering sweet nothings into your ear with a glass in his other hand. Oh, he looks so o-godly-handsome like a man who comes out from a romance novel!

Yan! Husband who is a man of greed, the embodiment of Mammon. Wealth is not something that he has never not possessed. So whatever the fuck you do, gambling or blowing it off somewhere in a dumb investment or stock, he won't make a fuss out of it. Instead, he'll teach you more about money management instead :/

"Do you want to learn how to invest? I know a way or two from my predecessor."

He will let you play all the money game you want and gives you the illusion of success despite all the trials and errors you made (he's the one who clean up all the mess lol)

I know that this is AFAB! oriented BUT Yan! Husband never wishes to impregnate you even once. No, he doesn't like the idea of you being in pain over a damn baby(ies) that could just take your life as well. He does enjoy fucking you without any protection on but that is after he tracks your safe day (man is literally fighting the fate of having you pregnant). He prefers you to not consume any birth control for just in case it causes harm rather than good to you. (Shots are a pass if you are scared of syringes)

He is A-OK with adopting if you are persistent enough about this matter and is B-OK if you want to get pregnant (AFAB). He just can't refuse and upset you...

So please don't imagine what would happen if darling dies during delivery :)

Yan! Husband who will always open his pocketwatch and kiss the picture of you in his pocket watch. How many times and lives had passed just for him to enjoy the solace of being your husband?

𝐀 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Yulian de Alpheus is a man of ambition. While he does share the same look as his 'father', the ambition he has is the complete opposite of Castiel. Castiel created him to seek the truth of life, Adam existed to be the Genesis of Life, Alan existed to be someone he didn't recognize and Yulian existed to live beneath the shadow of his spouse.

𝐘𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Taglist: @vinivave @destructa1 @szde8-blog @luminous011 @ush0 @annbourbon @randomnl @cassanderasblog @maam-appreciator @lem-hhn @fanatic-fan @flesh-eating-ladybug

(send ask/message to be removed from taglist)

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[twilightkitkat]

Can we talk about the dynamics of Logan "I eat anything and scarf it down immediately" Howlett and Wade "I only eat the same 10 foods in different fonts" Wilson?

Logan is used to living without. Even as a child, he had to get by when he was sick with the food his family could afford. Once he joined the military, he had to survive on the limited rations he was given. He didn't have room to be picky—he either ate what he was given or didn't eat at all. And in war, he had to eat eventually.

His preferences didn't matter. He was always treated as a soldier, a weapon, and his food reflected that. He'd get enough protein and carbohydrates to fuel his power but that was it. Food was for functional use, not to be enjoyed. It didn't matter if it tasted disgusting, he just inhaled it so the taste wouldn't linger.

He's also an extremely quick eater. He's feral and ravenous when hungry, tearing into meat with his claws and hands. He lived in the army, in the mountains, through the Great Depression, and in dangerous situations where he hunted for himself. To him, food is a scarce resource and if you don't eat it while you can, you might not have it tomorrow. So he takes gigantic bites and tears into food no matter how bland and unappealing it was because that's all he knows. His standards for food are just that it has to have nutrients and not be poisoned.

Wade, on the other hand, is more picky. If he had to choose between eating something he hates or not eating, he'd rather just starve. At first, in the army, he did eat what was given to him even if he disliked it, but it was purely for survival. He choked it down even when it made him vaguely nauseous and disgusted. But later, he'd hoard stashes of his own food that he managed to steal or barter for or bet on. It was better to be hungry most of the time than satiate his hunger temporarily only to fight to keep it down and feel sick the entire day.

The second he has the freedom to pick his own food, he sticks to things he knows he likes. That he feels comfortable with. He's picky about brands and specific types of food and how it has to be cooked or made, but he manages. He can normally find something on the menu he's OK with, even if he often has order a kid's meal. But most places have grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken tenders and macaroni, and people chalk it up to him being childish and silly, so nobody pays much attention.

Wade sees food as one of the only things he can control. He's been devoid of true choice for most of his life. He couldn't control getting cancer or being forced to turn into a horrific mutant. He couldn't save his relationship with Vanessa. When everything around him was collapsing, he hyperfixated on the little things he could control like food or clothing.

The two, together, learn to have a healthier relationship with food.

Logan was the first person to truly pay attention to Wade. To see which foods he liked and which he picked at and grimaced towards when nobody was looking. When Logan abruptly said he'd cook dinner one day, Wade was nervous, but nearly started bawling when Logan made homemade chicken tenders and macncheese. He noticed. He cared.

It was the first time Wade could be open and let someone see he was genuinely affected by food instead of him just playing it up as a lunatic. And Logan took him seriously and didn't make fun of him. He learned recipes to make the foods Wade liked but healthier and more balanced. He helped Wade finally get the nutrients he needed consistently without feeling sick to his stomach.

And Wade helped Logan too.

Logan was never allowed to have preferences. To have a sweet tooth or ask for more. To expect quality. But here Wade was, buying him some apple cinnamon-filled pastry just because he looked at it too long in the store.

Logan was never allowed to have dessert. To have sweet food just for the sake of it even after a meal. His eyes become wet as he clutches the pastry between his shaking hands and takes a bite. He's allowed this. To have the comforts in life. To eat just because it tasted good.

Someone cared about him enough to buy him what he wanted just because he'd enjoy them, not just to keep him functioning as a tool. Wade treated him as human. Like he was precious. Like he deserved the nice things in life.

And Wade reminds him of this. He stocks their kitchen with desserts that Logan likes, because he knows that Logan secretly enjoys sweet things. He sees the way he sniffs the air and wanders close to the fresh-baked goods of a bakery. He keeps snacks around the house, so Logan can eat whenever he want. Even if it isn't a "necessary meal."

And Wade learns to be more comfortable and try new variations of foods he likes that Logan makes. Because Logan knows the textures and flavors he hates and is somehow able to create a few new dishes entirely that he likes. He stops dreading mealtime or trying new foods. And Wade feels comfortable just trying the food without pressure, knowing that he can just not finish it if he doesn't want to and that someone else will.

And Logan learns to let himself enjoy eating again. To see it as less of a chore for the maintenance of his body and more as an enjoyable activity. Wade reminds him that he can eat just because he wants to and that it's OK to have preferences and ask for things. Logan feels well cared for. Pampered, almost. And he basks in the feeling of being wanted and loved and being allowed to express it through cooking and food.

[deepcreekvultures-writing]

"Stellar Collision"

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 8.2k

Content Warning: Mild injury, Description of injury, Smut, Fingering (F receiving), Penetrative Sex, Using Astronomy as a Plot Device

A/N: Please ignore any inaccuracies with the scientific stuff and the smut- I'm just silly and Asexual. I picture this as late season 4 Spencer, but you can picture whatever Spencer you want bbg.

Summary: Everyone knows you and Spencer Reid work well together- actually, the entire team thinks you two are the most oblivious profilers to ever work for the FBI, but c'est la vie- they figure you'll crash into each other eventually.

=======

Shaking the hand of the lead detective you introduce yourself before gesturing to Spencer who hovers behind you, “... and this is Agent Weirdly Sticky, a.k.a. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer’s face scrunches in an odd fusion of disgust, confusion, and amusement. He fights off the laugh that bubbles up and just lifts his hand in an awkward wave. Pressing his lips into a thin line to avoid the smile threatening to break out on his face. JJ elbows you in the ribs, earning a small ‘oomph’ as she pushes you aside. 

It had become routine at this point, calling him weird names to break the tension between the team and locals. Spencer’s hands rest on your shoulders to steady you as JJ takes over the conversation. You chuckle, following an officer into the precinct conference room to get everything set up. Hotch doesn’t say anything about your antics for once, resigning to just accept that there was no stopping you. 

“You really need to stop doing that, they’re going to think you don’t take things seriously.” Spencer mutters to you quietly, his hip lightly bumping into yours as the two of you stick photos onto the provided whiteboard.

“Yeah, maybe, but their face is worth it. It’s like they think federal agents can’t joke, so at first they believe me.” You giggle, sliding your hand around his waist, unceremoniously picking him up and pivoting him around you. You swap places with him quickly to tack a few pieces of evidence to the board.

Spencer lets it happen, not offering any help as you move him. Not that you need it, you were more than strong enough. “But “Agent Weirdly Sticky”? They’re going to think I don’t shower or something.”

You laugh, “At least they won’t try and touch you.” Looking at the board, you tilt your head a little. “The handwriting in each of these is so similar but look-” You point at two series of numbers, “one writes their seven with a dash, and the other doesn’t.”

Spencer leans forward to look at it, his eyes squinting as his mouth drops open in focus. 

“I swear you need to start wearing your glasses again.” You snort, reaching out and placing your fingers under his chin to push his jaw closed. 

He bats your hand away, “Glasses obstruct my peripherals.”

“But you look cute with them.” You argue, sliding to stand behind him, “I miss them.” 

Flattening your hands, you place them on either side of his head, blocking his peripherals. He ignores you, trying to focus on the pages in front of him rather than the warmth radiating off of your palms. Only moving when his phone rings, you drop them on his shoulders, turning him a little so you could grab his phone from his front pocket. 

“Hey Garcia, what’s up?” You greet, “...yeah, it’s me, what do you have for us?”

The investigation continues like that, the two of you revolving around each other, splitting up only when necessary, bouncing profiles off of the other.

Everyone knew you worked well together. Spencer was comfortable around you, not as stiff and one track minded as he would be working alone. He turned to you for most things, and sometimes when working through things in his mind he would just stare at you- Managing to find most of his answers in the curve of your nose and the color of your lips. 

You mellowed out around Spencer, his ramblings filling empty spaces almost like a living white noise machine. It was hard for most people to believe how abrasive and short fused you could be working alone. Irritation ran rampant with local PD getting in the way, suspects being difficult, media running with half baked stories; whenever the tension in your jaw threatened to spring into a full on rage, Spencer was always there.  

“You’re telling me you released the profile to the press even though we specifically told you not to?” Your eyebrows raise, hands pushing your sleeves up to your elbows.

“The public needs to know what they’re dealing with.” The detective crosses his arms over his chest, lifting his chin in challenge.

“Yeah? Well now our Unsub knows exactly what to change to avoid us, this guy is smart and he is watching.” Your voice raises slightly, shoulders squaring as you step chest to chest with the man. “From this point on, you release nothing to the press without approval from our Liaison or SSA Hotchner.” 

The detective snorts, shaking his head, “Oh yeah? And who are you to tell me what to do?”

Spencer instinctively reaches out, hooking his finger around your belt loop. He tugs you backwards, putting space between you and the focal point of your mounting rage. You don’t relax, but you let him pull you back.

“I’m the woman who’s gonna punch a hole through your spinal cord.” Your tone is icy, and he can almost hear your jaw pop from how hard you’re clenching your teeth. Spencer keeps his finger hooked on your belt loop, cringing slightly at the threat. 

It’s not that he disagrees with you, it was out of line for them to release a statement to the public without the team’s permission; and it’s not that he thinks you can’t back up your statement, he is well aware that you can. Spencer just didn’t want you to get suspended for assaulting an officer. Again.

Hotch approaches, stepping between you and the detective, and- to your relief- backs you up.

“If you release anything more to the public you can consider that little boy as good as gone. If you want us to be able to catch the unsub before it’s too late, it’ll do you well to listen to my agents.” His sharp gaze lingers on the man’s face before he turns to you, “Go cool off, and stop threatening people.” 

You nod and turn to leave, missing the small tilt of Hotch’s head, gesturing for Spencer to go with. He obliges, quickly rushing after you. 

Pacing around in the conference room, you keep your arms folded, chewing on the nail of your thumb.

“Sit.” Spencer pulls out one of the chairs, and you follow his instruction. Having gone through this routine again and again, you move a few stacks of papers, opening up a space for him to sit on the table’s glossy surface.

“I was reading up on star systems, and typically stars will orbit around each other in small or large groups- but most are trinary with only three stars…” Spencer hops up onto the table, crossing his legs under himself. He settles into his position, leaning his arms on his legs as he watches your face. 

He can tell by the way your head tilts that you’re listening, unconsciously bringing your ear closer to him. Folding your arms across your chest again, you roll your jaw to relieve the tension from the joint. He pays attention to your demeanor, watching the pressure between your eyes melt away. Crossing your legs, you tilt your hips, turning your body to face him though your gaze stays cast to the floor. Spencer responds by unfolding his legs, stretching them out to rest his feet on the apex of your thigh. 

Hands finding their way to the laces of his converse, you untie and retie them as his melodic droning fills the room. You keep yourself from looking at him, wanting to hold onto your anger for just a little longer. Spencer knows that you would’ve stewed in your fury for hours alone- and it seemed that Hotch knew the same. 

“... but then you have star systems that are just two stars- a binary system. The Sirius star system is the most well known, but Sirius A is a lot bigger than Sirius B. Sirius B is a white dwarf- which has around the same mass as our sun but condensed into a star not much bigger than the earth.”

“Without the extra gravity from another star like in trinary systems… Do binary stars collide a lot?” You ask and Spencer beams, happy that you were finally relaxed enough to fully engage.

“Actually, it’s pretty rare for them to collide. They stay stable for the most part, but when they do collide it’s most likely due to their stability being thrown off by the exchange of mass or gravitational radiation.” Unlacing his left shoe fully, you replace them upside down, tying the bow at the toe of his converse. He expected you to do the same with the other shoe, but you leave it asymmetrical. 

Lifting your gaze from his shoes, your eyes settle on his face. Spencer chews on his bottom lip, looking for any underlying stress in your features. He finds none.

“So, when a stellar collision occurs, the way it reacts depends on what kind of stars were involved in the collision. Like, if it was a set of white dwarfs, the gravitational radiation would cause them to spiral inwards and-”

Spencer is cut off by JJ poking her head in the room, “Hey, the unsub responded to the statement they released.”

You sigh, “Come on, Gorgeous, you can tell me more later.” pushing Spencer’s feet off of you before standing. You lead the way out of the conference room. As he follows, he tries to ignore the way his face warms when you call him gorgeous. He knew it was stupid to focus on your little nicknames- you use them often enough that he should be used to it by now- but his heart flutters all the same.

Spencer stands at your side, his slender fingers finding their way back around your belt loop. He didn’t think you would do anything, but local cops could be unpredictable.

A few feet away, Emily leans over to Morgan, “So how long have they been dating?” She asks.

Morgan looks at her, quirking an eyebrow, “Who?”

“Reid and his attack dog, duh.” She points to the two agents attached at the hip next to JJ. Morgan snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

“They’re not,” He shrugs, laughing when Emily’s head snaps to look at him, “I know- I know, we like to say they are, they just don’t know it yet.”

Emily looks back at the two of you, noting how you lean back into him. Your head tilts up and you whisper in his ear, motioning to whatever the unsub had sent loosely. “You’re kidding…”

“I wish I was,” Derek shakes his head, moving to place his hands on his hips, “you’re looking at a four year relationship between the two most oblivious profilers in the FBI.”

The entire team has thought the two of you were dating at some point- even Gideon before he left. In the beginning, Hotch came to the conclusion that the two of you lived together and got into the habit of only calling one on the assumption that you would arrive together. And you did. Always.

With the unsubs response, you and Spencer manage to put together a solid lead to who exactly you’re looking for. You hand the letter to Spencer, and break away to call Garcia- still with Spencer’s phone.

Garcia locates the unsub and the team hits the road. After securing your own bulletproof vest, you approach Spencer. Undoing the velcro on the sides of his vest to redo them. The velcro ripping apart is loud, drawing the attention of Rossi. He makes a face, looking over at Hotch and Derek who shrug in response. 

You make sure they’re snug, sliding your hands along the curve of his waist. Moving on to the straps over his shoulders, your face scrunches a little in focus. Your hands are warm, radiating their heat onto the skin of his neck. Spencer watches you, your lips parted slightly, the tip of your tongue fitted between your teeth. You shimmy the vest, eyes roving over his torso to make sure there were no loose points. 

Satisfied, you pat the FBI emblem on his chest, turning away without a word.

As the team approaches the house, you enter ahead of him. Moving methodically through the hallways, indicating clear rooms through your intercom. You enter the garage slowly, Spencer following closely behind you. 

“FBI, drop the gun and show me your hands!” You have your gun on the unsub, expression stone cold. The man huffs, sweat dripping from his nose and he switches between pointing the barrel of his hand gun at you or Spencer. He seems to settle on the latter and you step forward, rushing the unsub who in turn shoots. 

Spencer expects impact, but it doesn’t find him. Instead, coupled with the dull ringing in his ears from the shot, he can hear the crack of the man’s nose as the butt of your pistol slams into it. You gently push the little boy the unsub was holding towards Spencer, who cradles him to his chest. 

“We have the kid- garage.” He can hear you gasp into your intercom, the breath knocked from your lungs at the impact of the bullet. Slamming the unsub into the concrete and cuffing him, you attempt to take in air. The grimace on your face isn’t from rage, he can tell that much, the tension is sat in your throat rather than your jaw.

Once the man is cuffed beneath you, your knee holding his arms in place as he squirms, you huff. Long, drawn out, breaths are pulled into your lungs. Expanding them slowly as you feel the searing, white hot, tendrils of pain erupting from the base of your ribcage.

===  

“I’m fine,” You assure him for the fifth time since the team got back to the precinct. He goes to say something, but you hold up your hand, your finger pushing against his forehead, “Yes. I promise.”

“But-” He grabs your wrist, “but, even if you were shot in the “bulletproof” vest, the vest isn’t actually bulletproof. You could have bruised or cracked ribs, internal bleeding, even organ damage-”

Wiggling your arm out of his grip, you slap a hand over his mouth, “I got checked out by the paramedics, I’m fine.” He grumbles but nods, his eyes soft as he silently pouts. “Perfect, now go pack up your stuff.”

He slinks away, still pouting. Packing up the things in the conference room slowly, his worry plaguing his demeanor. You frown as you watch him. Making Spencer upset was the last thing you wanted to do.

Morgan slides up next to you, “Hey there rockstar, I know you’re just trying to reassure him. How is it really?”

Sighing, you rub a hand over your face, “He shot me at close range, the bullet pierced through and I’ve got the most wicked bruise and it hurts to breathe- but I’m definitely not telling him that.” 

Morgan laughs, his eyebrows raised in concern. “You know he just worries, let him take care of you.” He pats your shoulder in support, stalking away as Spencer comes back, bag slung over his shoulder. 

Landing back in Quantico, Spencer finds his way into your car- something he had taken a liking to. You were a good driver, and Spencer didn’t really like driving all that much. Having to focus on so many things means that he can’t talk as much as he wants to. But he sinks comfortably into the passenger seat of your car. His shoulders drooping as he leans his head back on the head rest. 

He tucks his duffel under his legs, relishing in the leg room your car offered. Since he was the only one who really rode with you he had the seat set how he liked.

“Are you gonna finish your rant about stellar collisions?” You ask, your voice soft as it carries over the sound of the car’s A/C. He turns his head, eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. You laugh, “You were explaining what would happen if two white dwarfs crashed into each other. Are you sure about that eidetic memory thing?” 

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, but he straightens up in his seat, taking a second to remember where he left off. 

“So, the two white dwarves would emit gravitational radiation, or waves, which would cause their orbit to become unstable- which would in turn cause the stars to spiral into each other,” He uses his hands as a model, “and once they collide, the force causes carbon fusion to ignite. White dwarfs are basically dead stars that no longer support fusions, but the fusion is re-ignited by the merge.”

You nod along, turning into the parking lot of your apartment building. Spencer is confused, usually you would drop him off first, but he decides to keep his question to himself, “And since the dwarfs are made up of that degenerate matter, the equilibrium needed to keep the merge stable is pretty much non-existent. So the thermal pressure combined with the unstable weight of them crashing into each other causes a full blown supernova.”

“Supernova, huh? That’s pretty cool.” You grin, putting the car in park. You turn your head to look at him, and he stays silent. A soft smile rests on his face, and he takes the time to memorize the way the warm lighting of the street lamp shines on your soft features.

You turn off the car, pocketing your keys as you open the car door, “I need your help with something really quick, then I’ll drop you off at home, okay?”

“Yeah, no, of course.” He gets out of the car, mindlessly grabbing his bag as he rushes to catch up with you. Unlocking your ground floor apartment, Spencer shuffles in after you. He kicks off his shoes, nudging them into a neat position with his foot before placing his bag next to them.

You shrug off your jacket, hissing lightly as you slowly stretch your arms over your head. Motioning with a small tilt of your head, you lead him further into your apartment, flicking on a few lights as you do. 

After all these years of knowing you, Spencer hadn’t been to your apartment much. He liked how homey it felt, dark wood furniture scattered around neatly, warm lighting, and a little clutter here and there. It was very you.

Opening the door to your bedroom, you usher him inside. Your hand was on his lower back to guide him, “Chill out, Pancake, I just need you to help me change my bandage.” You chuckle, pushing him a little firmer as he hesitates. You separate from him to grab the first aid kit from your bathroom, setting it down on the mattress when you return.

“I thought you said you were fine?” He asks, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows a little.

“I am, but I might’ve just told you that because I didn’t want you worrying.” Your confession frustrates him and he crosses his arms, “Don’t look at me like that you Grackle, just help me out, please?”

Spencer nods, dropping his hands at his sides, stuffing them into his pockets. He watches as you shuffle through the contents of your first aid kit. His hand mindlessly lifts to scratch at the inner part of his right elbow. Without looking away from your task, you reach one of your hands behind you. Gently hooking your fingers around his, you push his hand away.

“Okay, so, it definitely looks worse than it is.” You warn, turning to him. Before he can ask what you mean, you start unbuttoning your shirt. His head snaps to look away, the tense joint in his neck cracking at the force. 

His cheeks warm, his hands coming up to fiddle with his tie. Keeping his eyes averted, he wills himself to stop thinking all together. All trains of thought chug their way back to you, your face, your lips, your bare torso- he has to stop thinking. Blank. Blankness.

“Uh, if you’re gonna help me I kinda need you to look,” You chuckle awkwardly. He slowly turns his head, feeling like his head is sitting atop a stack of rusty gears. To both his relief and utter disappointment, you were wearing a tanktop. He doesn’t have time to decide if he should choose between the two, you shrug off the button up before quickly pulling the tank top over your head.

Spencer was afraid he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from your chest, clad in a black bra, but his eyes were immediately drawn lower. At the base of your ribcage sits a large mass of purple and red splotchy skin spreading out from underneath a bloodied bandage. His mouth falls open when he sees it, his eyes flicking between your face and the bruising over and over. 

“Like I said,” you raise your hands, “It looks worse than it is. The bullet pierced through the vest a little and it hit skin.”

“What? Do you have any broken ribs, any organ damage, what if you’re bleeding internally?” He rushes, his hand cupping the curve of your ribs. His thumb grazes over the edge of the bandage.

Tensing at his touch, you respond swiftly, “I have a broken rib, a few fractures and a ton of bruising. The ribs took the brunt of the force, no organ damage.”

“That you know of-” 

You shush him, placing your hand over his. His fingers were warm against your bare skin. Making no move to remove his hand fully, you gently slide his hand lower to rest in the dip of your waist. He lets out a shuddering breath, briefly distracted by the softness of your side. 

Peeling back the bandage, you wince, swallowing the hiss bubbling at the back of your throat. The center of the impact was so red it looked black, the dark purple skin surrounding it giving the illusion of a black hole. Reminding himself of what exactly he was here for, Spencer sits on your bed, guiding you by your waist to stand between his legs.

He gets to work, gingerly removing his hand from your side to grab the contents of your kit. Working silently, he focuses on being as gentle as possible while also assessing the damage. His eyes squint softly, his jaw hanging open as he disinfects it. You watch him, your head tilted downwards, noting every small mole or freckle you can as you try to ignore the burning ache in your abdomen- both physically and metaphorically. 

Having him this close was supposed to be the norm, right? The two of you had been closer than anyone on the team for almost 5 years. But your heart pools into your stomach, settling itself in your wound. Just for the chance to be cared for by his hands. 

Spencer’s hands, warm and lightly calloused, slide along your ribs as softly as he can manage. His long, slender fingers, guiding a new bandage into place.

You had never considered that Dr. Spencer Reid would ever return your simmering feelings. Sure, he went along with your teasing, let you manhandle him, calmed you down, turned to you for everything, cried on your shoulder, comforted you. But that was just him, right? He was like that with everyone… Right?

No. Spencer was sweet, yes, but you knew. He was different around you, more open, more playful. Everyone on the team knows how you revolve, bound to each other via some inexplicable force. He knows how you like your tea, he knows what snacks you like, he knows the ins and outs of your past relationships. But he knows everything, from the probability of finding a four-leaf clover, to quantum physics. You weren’t special.

But once he’s done securing the bandage just beneath your sternum, he looks up at you. His eyes rounded and shining, their honey-like color looking richer than ever. 

And you feel like the only woman in the universe. 

It’s hard not to feel like you’re completely under his spell when the warm hazel color of his eyes bore into your own. The patterning on his irises were just as enchanting, throwing you into the labyrinth that has held your heart at its center for the past 4 years. 

“How often do you need to change it?” He whispers, suddenly finding himself closer to you, his warm breath wafting over the center of your chest. 

“Just once a day after this.” Is your breathy response. Your hands lift, gently pushing the front pieces of his hair behind his ears, “Your hair is getting long.”

“Should I cut it?” He asks, gaze unwavering. You shake your head no, brushing your fingers through his soft brown waves. The touch is attentive and gentle. The air grows thick with every passing moment, bathing every touch in an intimate nature. 

Spencer’s hands linger at your sides, fingers ghosting along your waist. He looks up at you, his eyes somehow softening further. You almost melt on the spot, your hands finding their place at the nape of his neck. Mindlessly, you press the pads of your thumbs into the space just below his skull. The pressure alleviates some of the tension in his neck, his eyes fluttering closed as you begin to move them in a circular motion.

“You really worry too much…” You murmur, face flushing as you watch his expression melt into contentment. 

“Hard not to when you’re rushing at a sociopath with a gun…” He mumbles in response, looking at you through his eyelashes. “Especially when this bullet was meant for me.” His thumb slides over the bandage, his bottom lip jutting out a little as his eyes round at the edges. 

That damn puppy dog look. You hated it. He used it in any situation where he wasn’t getting his way. He knew it worked on you, probably thinking that you just thought he was too cute to resist. Not quite, as much as you did think it was cute- it was just such a turn-on.

Scoffing, you push away the mounting arousal pooling in your stomach, “Neither of us died, so I call it a win…” his gaze doesn’t waver, clearly seeking to break you, “Stop looking at me like that.” You grumble, placing a hand over his eyes. 

Spencer laughs, reaching up to pull your hand away. His fingers curl around you, sliding against the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “Like what?”

Rolling your eyes you sigh, “Come on, Handsome, don’t be coy. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His fingers slide up your wrist, spreading out to flatten your palm. Spencer’s hands are large, enveloping yours easily as he intertwined his fingers with your own. You had spent the last 4 years perfecting the art of hiding the way you feel about Spencer. But it was impossible to hide what he was doing to you here and now.

After years in steady orbit of each other, you were finally spiraling inwards.

He keeps his right hand intertwined with yours, his other hand sliding up your torso slowly. He keeps his eyes trained on your face, watching the miniscule changes in your flushed expression. His fingers slide along the band of your bra. The texture of the lace rubs along the pads on his fingertips. He guides his hand up, breathing shakily as it ghosts over the apex of your chest. You bristle at the contact, your hand gripping his tightly in an attempt to keep your composure. 

The only thing breaking up the silence permeating the room is the uneven breathing shared between you. Spencer takes his time, tracing the outline of your collarbone. He follows the line of it, dipping his index and middle finger into the center crevice of your clavicle. Dragging his fingers up the center of your throat, his short, dull nails lightly scratching the sensitive skin. You let out a strained hum, his fingers feeling the vibration of your vocal chords. His inner thighs press against the outside of your own, reminding you of how exactly you ended up here.

Following the line of your jaw, his knuckles gently tilt your head down. He keeps his eyes locked on you, still giving you that dreaded doe eyed stare. Once his hand reaches your face, he tears his gaze from your eyes, following his fingers as he caresses the soft skin of your cheek.

Turning his hand, Spencer lets his slender fingers flatten against your jaw. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, tracing the warm skin and gently pressing into it. Watching as the color of your lips changes with the light pressure, he finally speaks.

“The reason your heart races, or you feel nervous when you’re in love… is because of the sudden release of hormones. Dopamine, Cortisol, and Norepinephrine spike, but the mood stabilizer, Serotonin, drops.” His thumb gently tugs on your bottom lip.

“Do I make you nervous, Dr. Reid?” You whisper, your lips gently pressing into the pad of his thumb. Reaching up your free hand, you gently slide it under the front of his cardigan. Pressing it into his chest you could feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage.

Spencer nods, his bottom lip fitting between his teeth as he looks up at you. His face is flushed, the heights of his cheekbones radiating heat from the blood pooling beneath his skin. Adjusting in his seat, he pulls his legs towards himself, fitting one of his knees between your legs to spread them apart.

You look at him in surprise, but he dips his gaze to watch what he was doing. He puts his knees together, placing them between your own. Spreading his legs, he hooks them around your calves, forcing you forward. Yelping, you try your hardest not to collapse into him. You manage to get one of your knees onto the mattress before he fully knocks you over. Ignoring the way his gaze lingers on your flushed face, you settle into his lap, knees on either side of his hips.

Spencer could feel the strap of your thigh holster pressing into his leg. He unclasps his hand from yours, sliding it up your knee. He finds the buckles on the two straps digging into the flesh of your thigh. Maintaining eye contact while he unclasps them, you lift yourself off of him so he can take it off easier. He discards it onto the other side of the bed before letting his hand fall back to rest on your thigh. Spencer was constantly searching your face for approval, touching you slow and simple- He always made it a priority to make you comfortable. Mirroring his other hand, the one holding your face slides down the side of your torso to cup your thigh.The pressure of his touch increases, kneading your muscles through your jeans.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping them lightly as he touches you. Growing restless, you reach down to unbutton his cardigan, sliding it off of his shoulders. He assists in taking it off, throwing it haphazardly across the room. His hands return to their places, but he tilts his head a little, his lips parting as his eyes slide across your face. 

Rocking your hips forward pulls a soft moan from his lips, his fingers curling into your thighs. “I- I don’t… think we should do this…” He gasps, contradicting himself as his hands slide up to your hips, pulling you against him again. 

“We don’t have to…” You gasp in response, the stimulation only slightly dulled by the thick material of your jeans. 

“I want to- but, you’re injured.” He mumbles, leaning forward to press his lips against your collarbone.

You shake your head, sighing at the feeling of his warm lips, “You won’t hurt me.” Loosening his tie, you pull it over his head and toss it to the side.

“I could- not on purpose, but strenuous activity should be avoided during recovery.” Spencer argues, his voice weakened by the way your hips slide into his. His breath falls from his lips heavily, fanning your face as you lean in close.

Laughing, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple, “It doesn’t feel like you want to stop.” You could feel him underneath you, already straining against his slacks. He swallows, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down. The hands on your hips tighten their grip, digging into your flesh. He keeps his eyes on you, leaning forward to press a small kiss to your sternum.

Spencer’s hands knew exactly what to do. Sliding over the apex of your hips, his thumbs pressing firmly into your soft skin. Traveling slowly up, the weight of his palms kneading your sides as the tips of his fingers find the band of your bra. The pressure of his touch lightens as he lifts his palms off of you. His fingers curl slightly, leaving just a few fingertips touching the lacy fabric. 

Reading you like a book, his hands circle around to your back. Finding the clasp, he makes quick work of undoing your bra. He makes no move to fully remove the garment, just flattening his hands against your exposed back. His fingers press into your spine, running along the outsides of it.

You slide the bra off, throwing it over your shoulder to join your shirt and his cardigan on the floor. His eyes leave yours, trailing along your skin, uninterrupted by fabric. One hand stays on your back, the other sliding around your side. The pressure of his touch lightens as he reaches your front, very careful to not disturb your injured ribs. 

His hand flattened on your torso scoops the underside of your breast, his thumb caressing the soft skin. Watching how your body molds to the shape of his hand, his lips part slightly, almost studying you. 

Spencer presses a few more kisses to your sternum, slowly making his way up to your collarbone. Your hips continue to slide against his, pulling soft breathy moans from the both of you. His noises are muffled by your neck as he presses his lips to the center of your throat. It almost hurts how badly you want him, your desire clouding over any possible pain stemming from your ribs.

Moving as quickly and as gently as possible, Spencer twists his body. He slowly lowers your back to the mattress, settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He continued to grind against you, the feeling of him through four layers of clothing was enough to drive you up the wall. 

It dawned on you then how easy this felt.

Just like everything with him, it all came to you like the most natural thing in the universe. The two of you had spent years memorizing everything about each other. You never thought it would translate so well into this situation. Then again, you never thought it was possible for you to end up in this position with him. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them quickly as his mouth finds your throat again. He takes his time exploring the warm skin of your neck, very gently nipping at your pulse. He takes in every noise he draws from you, filing them away in his mind with every roll of his hips. 

Just as easily as the dusk slides into the quiet of night, you turn to putty in his hands.

Trying to focus on getting his shirt off, you’re distracted by the intense way he kisses your neck. You hadn’t really expected Spencer to be so… possessive with his mouth, but in hindsight it made sense to you. 

He was possessive in other ways, always taking the seat next to you on the jet, calling dibs on partnering with you, not letting anyone else help you if he was nearby, getting pouty when your attention was drawn elsewhere. Listening to his heavy breathing as his warm, open mouthed, kisses press into your throat you’re suddenly aware of every way he’s laid his claim on you to the people around you.

To everyone else, you were his.

His hands hold your chest, squeezing and caressing the soft skin. Spencer’s teeth slowly drag along the side of your neck, biting you very gently, careful not to leave any marks where anyone would see. Your breathing comes out heavy and labored, your face scrunching slightly as you feel the strain of your ribs with each breath.

Spencer’s large palms slide down your torso after one last squeeze, finding the hem of your pants. He quickly gets your belt off, letting it clatter to the floor and unbuttoning your jeans. Pulling away from your neck. his eyes meet yours as he hooks his fingers over the hem of your underwear. He shimmies them down the length of your legs along with your pants, tossing them across the room carelessly. Pupils dilated wide, he drinks in the look of you like a starved man. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his eyebrows furrowing slightly at the pained look on your face. His thumb presses against the space between your brows, smoothing out the tension building there as your chest rises and falls heavily.

“Try to relax your breathing,” He whispers, pressing his lips to your cheek. His hand slips away from your face, the soft noise of his silver belt buckle unfastening filling your ears. Attentive kisses are pressed along the perimeter of your face, urging you to try and calm your racing heart. 

The air around you is cold, a stark contrast to the ever growing heat pooling between your legs. His warm chest presses against yours, one hand curling around your knee, the other sliding along your bare inner thigh. 

A soft moan falls from your lips, “You’re not exactly helping,” You whisper, feeling his lips press against your temple.

“It doesn’t feel like you want to stop,” He replies, throwing your words back at you as his fingers slide against your clit teasingly. You writhe underneath him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. Trying your hardest not to move too much as his fingers slowly circle the bundle of nerves. If you move too much and aggravate your ribs, you might have to stop. His slender fingers slide along you, dipping into your entrance briefly before continuing to tease. You whine, lifting your hips to meet his hand as best as you can. 

As much as Spencer wants to keep teasing, his need to please you overwhelms any other desire that may be festering. He pushes his middle finger into you, kissing the corner of your mouth as a guttural moan is pulled from your lips. 

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing soothing circles into it as his finger fucks into you. His face remains pressed into yours, kissing along your cheekbone lovingly. Adding his ring finger, he pushes it into you slowly and allows you to adjust to the difference in size. His long, slender,  fingers slide in and out of you, the ministrations deliberate and slow. 

Despite the slow pace of his hand, the length and size of his fingers provides overwhelming stimulation. You had always loved how large his hands were, spending nights wondering and fantasizing about how they would feel touching you like this. But this was way better than any piss poor scenario you could dream up. 

Your head falls back onto the pillow, mouth hanging open as deep, breathy moans fall from your lips. Hissing a bit, you try to calm your breathing.

“Don’t stop…” You sigh out, knowing he was noticing the way your breathing changes in kind to the pain spreading from your fractured bones. Spencer listens to your request, his fingers curling slightly. The sensation draws out a loud gasp as the tips of his fingers press into you. Your hands move down his neck, sliding along his back. 

Your head swims with intense pleasure, not bothering to care about how badly your ribs hurt with every breath you take. Spencer’s name falls from your mouth like a mantra, eyes closing as you focus on not writhing underneath him. Hands pressing into his shoulder blades you pull him flush against you, feeling his hard length against your inner thigh as he pushes you closer to the edge with his fingers. 

The way he presses into your inner thigh pulls a small noise from the back of his throat. He speeds up the way his fingers fuck into you, rutting against your thigh instinctually to keep the friction going. His thumb presses into your clit, the pressure firmer as he continues to circle around it. The feeling draws out a strained moan from your lips, your hips jerking involuntarily. 

Spencer can feel you starting to fall apart underneath him, his lips pressing firmly into your neck. His soft gasps and moans muffled by your warm skin as he uses your thigh. Tightening around his fingers, your legs shake, and you mumble his name over and over. Biting down on your lip, his free hand slides just under your breast, holding your torso down when he feels your back begin to lift from the bed. Your orgasm crashes over you and the room spins, tremors vibrating through your spine.

You gasp, panting to try and catch your breath. His lips find your face again, smothering your cheeks and nose with affection as you come down from your high slowly. His desperate grinding against your thigh pulls you back to reality and you gently push on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Spencer… I need you…” You whine, your hands cupping his face. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he nods. There’s a soft twitch to his face when he pulls his hips away from your thigh, his eyes searching yours for final approval. You nod, adoring the amber color at the center of his irises.

Gripping himself in his hand, he takes a second to slide his tip through your folds, pulling a desperate moan from the both of you. The tenderness left from your last orgasm causes you to whine and throw your head back onto the pillow. 

“Wait…” He gasps, looking up at you, “I- do you have a condom?” 

You can’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head, “I’m on birth control, it’s fine… please.” Your fingers curl and play with the long hair at the nape of his neck. 

He hesitates, seemingly working through the probabilities and statistics of not using one, but he nods. Spencer looks back down, lining himself up with you. One hand on your hip, the other wrapped around himself. 

“Tell me to stop if you need to,” He says, voice shaking with his heavy breathing. You nod, eyes locked on his features. The shadows of his face as he hovers over you are dark, seeping into the dips and curves of his brow and cheek bones. He looked ethereal.

When his tip pushes into you slowly, you gasp. His mouth finds yours, kissing you needily as he works his way inside of you. 

Spencer breathes heavily into your mouth as his fingers dig into the flesh of your outer thighs, “I… I love you.” He declares, his lips moving against yours with fervor.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, his kisses not allowing you to verbally reciprocate. You loved him. There was no doubt about that. But when he’s fully inside of you, filling you completely, there is nothing you can do to stop the way you ignite underneath him.

Moaning into his mouth, your legs shake from your earlier orgasm. He gives you time to slowly adjust, shivers running up and down his spine as your muscles flutter around him. Spencer slows down his kisses, resorting to soft presses as he waits for your signal. 

After a moment you nod, whispering a soft “I love you” and kissing him in return. With your quiet permission, he pulls his hips back. Letting out a strained groan, his lips loosely against yours, he rolls his hips back into you.

The feeling of you wrapped around him completely, your hands in his hair, your mouth against his. There is nothing that can compare to this. Nothing.

Spencer rocks into you slowly, keeping your hips pressed against the mattress. The angle is perfect, and the least likely to aggravate your rib cage. He’s fully in tune with how you feel underneath him, his hands gently sliding over your hips in a soothing motion. Feeling no need to rush, he pulls back from your lips to watch the way he slides in and out of you.

“I… I would beg you to go faster if my ribs didn’t feel like they were on fire.” You hum, your hands brushing over the perimeters of his face. His face scrunches a little and he almost slows to a stop, but you shake your head, “Don’t- don’t stop, please, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” He whispers shakily, one of his hands sliding down to press circles into your overly sensitive clit.

A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, “Yes, yes… I’ve never felt so good…” Your muscles flutter around him, the added sensation pulling your thoughts from the deep ache ringing from your torso. His lips meet yours again, one of his palms cupping the back of your hand. Pressing your hand firmly into his cheek, his mouth moves against yours in slow, loving motions. The amount of tongue he used was a pleasant surprise, his kisses never seeming to still. 

Keeping up his languid pace, Spencer memorizes the way you feel- which isn’t hard with his memory, but he files away every moan, every flutter of your core, every lingering kiss. It was all so perfect. 

The remnants of your first orgasm buzzes in your core, your entire body felt like it was on fire. You could feel yourself reaching the edge, your kisses getting sloppier and his name falling from your lips in quick succession. His hips roll deep into you, making up for the slow pace with the thumb rubbing evenly over your clit. 

His shoulders tense, the kiss between you breaking into just a sequence of heavy breaths against your lips. Hips twitching, the feeling of you around him almost unbearable as the pleasure causes his head to swim. All of the facts and knowledge constantly swimming through his mind fall silent, replaced with your soft whines and the feeling of your soft skin under his palms. 

“Spencer… god, please- come for me…” You murmur against his lips, your hands moving into his hair and sliding down the back of his neck. Your nails lightly scrape along his sensitive skin, coaxing him over the edge. It’s all he can do to keep his slow pace, lifting his face away from yours to look down at you. Your eyes are slightly glassed over, looking up at him with a pleading gaze. The eye-contact is the final push he needed, his fingers circling around your clit quickly. 

You gasp at the change in pace- the feeling of him inside of you, the length of him brushing against your sweet spot, his sweet gaze on your face all cause your muscles to contract as your second orgasm crashes over you. Spencer follows quickly behind you, groaning loudly as his hips stutter and he pushes himself into you as deep as he can. His release coats your insides, the added sensation pushing you even farther. Mouth falling open, his moans spike to a slightly higher pitch as he slowly rides out his own orgasm. 

Heavy gasps fall from your lips as the two of you come down from your high. Spencer’s lips press against yours sloppily, his hands reaching up to hold your face firmly. He pulls out of you slowly, listening to the soft whine that falls from your lips.

Overly sensitive from the two back to back orgasms, your head swims. Spencer attempts to pull away from you more, but your hands loosely capture his wrists and pull him back. Lips meeting again in a lazy fashion, your mind is in a daze, “I love you…” is softly mumbled into his mouth, your hands holding his to your face. 

“I love you too… How do your ribs feel?” He asks, kissing up the bridge of your nose.

You sigh into his affection, your thumbs rubbing the outside of his hands, “I feel great… it’s like a forgotten bruise.” Your lips pull into a sloppy grin.

“That’s because pain can be reduced by orgasms,” Is his response, pulling a soft laugh from you, “Potent analgesics, which are basically pain killers, are released in the endorphins during sex.”

“Maybe we should do this until my ribs are healed,” You hum, pressing a few soft kisses to his cheek.

Spencer laughs a little, shaking his head, “Let me get you cleaned up.”

He attempts to pull away again but you keep his hands held in your grip. You were still exhausted, your hold loose. Spencer could easily wriggle away, but he humors you with a few more kisses.

“Stay… I want you to stay.” You whine, tilting your head and kissing the corners of his mouth. “Please?” 

Spencer nods, moving to settle next to you. Being mindful of your injury, he wraps an arm around your shoulders. Scooting closer and  pressing his chest against your arm, he kisses your temple sweetly. The gravity of your connection holds your cores together in the wake of your collision.

[okwonyo]

KISS IT BETTER, 或 𓈒𓈒 after an argument.

❛𝗈𝗁, 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𓈒𓈒 ❜

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 1OOO fluff ── hurt&comfort non idol au mention of crying skinship kissing ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀this is quite long ! i hope you still enjoy ><

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

before going to bed, the bedroom would be silent and tense. your gaze would barely look at his direction as you get ready to sleep. 

hesitating slightly, he would ask, “do you want me to sleep on the couch?”  and his heart would hurt in apprehension when you would finally look at him. 

you would pose what your doing for a second, then heavily sigh, “don’t be silly, heeseung”

would press his lips at the use of his name, but nod his head nonetheless. 

would stay still for a moment after you both get under the covers and turn off the lights. his face would face the ceiling— something would be so off. 

his skin would feel alone, his warmth would miss yours.

his chest would tighten at the song of you moving alone, scared you will take the couch at the end. but instead, your arms would wrap against his and your nose would bury in his chest.

JAY

would not be the type to fight nor argue often. as he knows how he can get, would always do everything to stay calm. 

the rare time you would fight with each other, would always end up leaving for a while when he would feel his voice rise and his throat tightening with words he would never want to say. 

his hands would be filled with groceries when he comes back. he would still be silent as he walks past you in the living room to the kitchen. 

after a few minutes, you would hear the weather bowling or something getting cooked. 

not-so-discretely, you would go see what he is cooking and, most importantly, if it is enough for the both of you to eat. always, the chef would sense you even before you step behind him. 

his eyes would meet yours and the smile he would give you would tell you that there is nothing to worry about.

JAKE

would think about the argument during the entire of his days. 

his mind would be full of the image of you leaving for work in the morning, hurt and mad at him like never before. 

would keep wondering if you are still upset, if you are okay, if it ruined your entire day. anyone would be able to see how bad feels and the fact he is anything but well on his face. 

his heart would drop in his stomach when he would step inside of your shred apartment and not see you there like every other day. he would sit on the couch and wait patiently for your return— not calling you to not crumble if you don’t answer. 

without thinking of the fight anymore, would hold you in his embrace as soon as you step inside. holding the back of your head so softly, your nose buried in his neck.

SUNGHOON

there is just no way he stays away from you after any fight. 

no matter how mad you are against each other, would always follow you everywhere you go without any after thoughts— it would be like a survival instinct. 

when you go to the bedroom, when you go to the bathroom, even when you go on a walk because you are that mad. this crazy man would follow a meter behind you. 

“you know i still love you right?” he would say loudly enough so you would hear him. you would tell him to shut up, “so don’t walk so far!”

would end up walking next to you. with his hand in yours eventually. with his arm around your waist, even, if you feel nice. 

JUNGWON

every fight with him would mainly end up in the same way. which is a deep talk, with your hands in his.

would always do his best to understand you. would even rub your palm with his thumb while you talk.

and if he looks at you for a little too long, tears would form in the corner of your eyes and the light would reflect in them. 

seriously, how could you not cry just a little?

your voice would be wobbly as you speak, “i’m sorry for being mean earlier,”

but his arms would have already found their way around your form and you would be pressed against him.

your words would be muffled in his shirt and his hand would rub your back.

“you could never be mean even if you tried,” he would assure you. “now, don't cry or i’ll cry too.”

SUNOO

“fine,” would be the last thing he would hear coming from your mouth for a few hours.

would know it’s serious when you stop holding his arm while walking and just leave him behind. 

his steps would be heavy as his heart as he follows you without much to say. rethinking of where exactly it all went wrong and a way to fix it.

after a while, he would come next to you and drape his arm on your shoulders. you would not even look at him.

pulling closer, he would lower his head to your face, “what about you tell me what is wrong so i can fix it, hm?”

his second mistake of the day would be adding, “i’ll do anything”

RIKI

would come to your house one or two days after the argument all sad and shy.

“hi,” would be the first thing he would say when he enters your room— even though he would like to do more.

“hey,” you would greet him back.

the boy would then proceed to look at you as if it was the first time he has seen you ever. with his hands in his pocket.

you would stare at him back.

all the courage it would take him to speak up would be immense. “so.. are we over?” he would ask.

you would frown your eyebrows immediately, “wait— what? why?”

“well, we fought,” he would tell you like you weren’t there. then would add; “pretty bad,”

you would coo immediately, stepping close to him. “riki, this is what happens in a relationship,” you would giggle.

his face gently cupped in your hands, you would continue, “we will talk it out and move forward.”

then, he would hug you.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open