#I am so enamoured it's unreal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gnohomotho · 1 month ago

Note

Hello you treasure ❤️❤️ can you pleaaasseeee write something (fluff/angst/cute) about the recruiter and a plus size reader or a reader struggling with her body? 😭 You write inner thoughts AMAZINGLY and I reeaaaaally relate this would mean so much to me thank you!!

Of course! That is such a lovely idea!

You’re Not Pretty. You’re Unreal. ❦✞

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: As the prompt says, but I added a little backstory and a nice barman. c: You go through remembering your first encounter to the present, and oh, the salesman intends to show you exactly how beautiful you are to him. ♥ (Right after some light murder.) ˙ᵕ˙ Warnings: Look, it's a very enamoured salesman and some death. I would, in my old age, classify it as erotica but I am still far behind the best of the best. 18+ MDNI, touching, fondling, kissing, grabbing, pushing, lustful making out, implied sexual contact and oral sex, very fowl language and death. (❀´ ˘ `❀) Word count: 4.3k A/N: I have no excuse, and you'll know exactly what I mean the further you read. 𓆩♡𓆪 Gorgeous gif by @phantom-evil Taglist: @storytellers-randomshortstorys @ingstadstarlight @aashleyxjimin @aesthetic-winchesters જ⁀➴ If you like my works, I appreciate every like // reblog // follow // message; it keeps the blog going! ♥ Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ

You were sat at the bar, to the side of the corner, so you could watch all the newcomers. The barman knew you by now. You came here often, alone. And he was your anchor in times you both knew to be some very troubled waters.

You studied his features, as you always did. A sweet fellow with a face far harsher than his heart, and arms to match. Each inch of rough freckled skin told its own story. Sometimes, when the night was slow and you had nowhere to go, he'd tell you one.

As he washed pint glasses under the chasms of his watchful dark eyes, red hair shaved on the sides and running down the hem of his ears in neat chops, never intruding on the concentration, he gave you that small knowing smile from the corner of his chapped mouth - "you're safe, lass, don't you worry" - it seemed to say.

You always found his presence comforting. And purely platonically, the way he looked up from a pint with foam stuck in his ginger beard made you laugh.

He never minded that you always asked for the worst possible drink in a dark, smoky bar (tea with some milk - "at least it's not the yuppy shite wi' feckin' sprinkles and a brolly" was the answer to your worry the first time you inquired) and he never minded taking care of those who bothered you.

Though you were rather sure he just enjoyed beating the shit out of people with a good excuse.

Unless...

Your eyes fell a little, memories knocking on your mind's heavy door.

You wandered through your thoughts as you stirred the lightening liquid. The first time his watchful eyes saw you, you had wandered in soaked wearing a dress that barely held, gripping a packet of matches and a single card with a spade motif on it.

He had said, once, at 3 a.m. before closing between just the two of you and some very drunk patrons, that you were such a striking vision - like that of his own folklore. You hated yourself less then, knowing it was nothing but respectful, but you stuck your thighs together and covered your chest.

You hadn't eaten a thing and were still feeling like your presence spilled over.

Back then, the first time...as he was leaning in that stained white tank top tucked into a cut off leather belt, eyes almost caressing yours. That was the first time you felt genuine care for you, asking for nothing in return. He was never intruding, never tried anything.

He said you looked like you were about to announce someone's death or pull them into a river, and they would be thankful to their last breaths. But then, his smile froze a little and his eyes lost their spark. As he looked at the matches, he slid the card into his calloused hands as though it was soaked in poison, and frowned.

"Oh lassie, ye' poor wee thing. Getting yerself caught wi' someone like that."

You remember the way he shook his head, like a man watching a moth fly directly into a candle flame, unable to stop her gentle wings. Wistful and calm, because he'd watched ten moths burn already the exact same way. Even his mouth fell sadly into the ginger storm as he laid a strong scarred hand on the bar, letting his knuckles fall one by one close to your outstretched fingers.

One eye glinted as he chewed on the corner of an unlit cigarette, shifting it to the other side of his mouth. Eyeing the bar patron by patron, watching the door. But he wasn't scanning anymore, he was searching.

"If I touch yer hand, bonnie hen," he hummed to the room, "I might as well get me own epitaph signed, but it need be held tight or get a stiff drink stuffed in it."

You remember the noise as he lifted his head, and the door moved as if on cue. Perhaps a drunk who can't read. Perhaps not.

"Get out ye daft prick, didn't I tell ye already? Closing time! Jist fucking braw, this is." He lifted and flung a rag over his shoulder, straightening to his truly foreboding height to get ready to throw out whoever just tried to get in. But in the commotion, he slid you the card back and momentarily touched the tip of your finger, eyes never leaving the door. Through the gnawed cigarette his lifted mouth corner whispered to you:

"Darlin', go fix yer face to the wee ladies room. Take yer time."

You got the message. Though as you got up, you heard a whisper under his breath as he gave you his harsh but heavy coat to keep warm, eyes positively bludgeoning the door:

"Long time deid ye are, ye scunner."

❥❥❥

The dim yellow lights shone onto your wet hair. You held that one card under them, watching it glisten. Quite the commotion going on outside, you couldn't make out the shouts. Or the amount of hits. Then the voice of the barman, deep and level. Then softer. As if he were...bargaining. You wondered what for, he seemed disinterested in earthly bullshit and you didn't think him one to ask nor beg. You pushed the thought away and examined the card under the orange light.

A playing card, seven of spades. Corners worn from your pockets as you traversed the city.

You remember standing in front of the sink. Hating the reflection. Tired. Cold. You felt your body didn't belong in the clothes and each surface stung. Clung. Revealed too much.

Flesh. You could not get rid of it. It seemed to morph in front of you. Bigger, wider, then momentarily normal. Before morphing into a reflection like that of a funhouse mirror. You huddled into the coat and covered your chest, barely concealed by a soaked dress.

You were lightheaded.

You thought about being sick.

You held your stomach, your hips, your chest, and felt empty. So much flesh. So little spirit. You'd almost scoff.

When did it get so bad? When did it creep up on you, like the numbers of every gram and millilitre? When did your worth become the amount of flesh gone? Hollow cheeks a mark of repaying a never ending invisible debt to exist?

You focused on the other item before the mirror made you actually cry.

The matchbox had a little spade symbol drawn on it. You had found it on the bridge as you gazed at the river below, thinking much the same thoughts.

You took out a single match and watched it burn. Then fall. Then disappear.

Another.

Life and...nothing.

Heat and...nothing.

A fire to burn down a church and...nothing.

Lighting your eyes momentarily in the mirror before dying once more.

You knew what you were doing - and how wrong it was. You knew the trap you were walking into, the details didn't stir you.

And the bar you found after hours of searching in the rain...had an eight of spades neatly tucked into the flowerpot right outside.

He knew. You knew.

He knew you would come.

❥❥❥

Back to present.

You sat at the bar, and the barman smiled gently once more, cigarette playing in one mouth corner. Eyes growing softer as he watched you stir your drink. He slid a small shot glass your way, and you smiled wide - he knew you don't partake, he knew you had your own issues that prevented it - but he also knew some of the good highland herbs in combination with sharp liquor soothed your mind and soothed the innergoingson.

A man sat next to you, pulling up close. You feel like the both of you are too old for this shit. The barman seemed to read your thoughts.

"Wouldn't do that if I were yerself, lad."

The man didn't look away from you, you could feel him lifting each layer of cloth off you in his mind.

"Is the seat taken?" The stranger mused, giving you a little wink. He wasn't even slurring, not even a good excuse.

The barman said nothing, only eyed him through a pair of hazel coinslots.

And you, against your better judgement, downed the shot and stirred your tea. It stung your throat and laid warmth in your chest, the herbs softly tickling your lips. You saw a glad glint in the barman's face and went back to your tea, smiling in thanks.

Just as you were checking your phone to make sure your...acquaintance...was alright, you hear him lean into you.

The cheap cologne stung.

"Such a pretty girl all alone, waiting for someone?"

You lean back and send off a quick message. If looks could kill...but you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"I don't want to be impolite, but you really should leave that seat."

You hear the barman barely contain a snicker as he pulled another beer and sent it the other way.

The man wasn't giving up. Eyes pinned to your neck, leaning closer in what he surely imagined to be subtlety. Your phone lit up and your gaze softened instantly.

Oh...you sweetheart.

Looking up, you grew cold again. The stranger lifted a hand to touch your hair and you shot away.

"Don't be like that, tell you what...if I go, will you leave with me?"

He was positively speaking to your chest, eyeing you up and down with the motion of a broken elevator. The groan from the barman wasn't lost on you, nor the subtle crack of his knuckles on the glass.

"I'd listen to the lady, if I were half as dimwitted as ye look."

You felt the calming presence return to you, now replaced with an air of something colder. Though he wasn't intervening. And you knew exactly why.

Never disturb a snake about to take its meal.

The barman leaned onto the surface of the bar with folded red-haired arms, smiling a tad too sweetly.

"Unless yer aff yer heid for a game."

❥❥❥

You went back to your tea, eyeing the little maelstrom, adjusting your dress. You really weren't feeling too good today. About yourself, about the evening, about the glint in the eye of the man you knew would come any minute.

You weren't in the mood for an argument. But you knew it had to come. He never did like the things he cherished disrespected. Even less so if they were doing the disrespecting.

The message you sent was only a heart - a black heart, meaning, thinking of you but wary.

He sent back a white one, meaning safe, all good, darling.

Like two crows, gliding on the wind. You smiled into your phone. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe...maybe he would be kind.

Of all the times to wear a white dress, you thought as the sleazy voice disturbed you again.

"I don't mind a good game, if this is the prize," the man dragged you from fonder thoughts and touched your leg. The barman's eyebrows shot up instantly, hand gripping the glass. But he only shook his head, getting up with a sigh, eyes firmly on the door ahead.

Usually, he'd take care of the nuisance for you, but he merely chewed his cigarette and slid it to the other corner of his mouth. A puff of smoke worth a thousand words left his lips as he walked a safe distance, though you heard the mutter.

"Yer well fucked, mate."

❥❥❥

The door closed with a polite tap, no one really looked up. You didn't either, too enthralled by your tea and moving your leg away. The man returned to it from another angle, but you crossed it with the other.

So he tried to catch your wrist with the excuse of examining your life lines.

He didn't get so close as to touch a single finger before a perfectly cuffed hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"Do excuse me, but this seat is taken."

You didn't look up, merely smiled into your little swirls. Oh, that soft voice laced with cyanide.

"And so is the young lady."

You closed your eyes and waited for the noise that would make you wince - and you shook as you heard the snap preceding the scream.

An absolute theatrical pitious tone followed, dripping with overplayed regret and care.

"Oh, sir! What an unfortunate accident. It seems you would very much be in need of some medical attention."

The voice you knew so well but still sent ice down your spine when using this tone cooed, circling your ears.

"Let's go take care of it."

The man got up, stunned, nearly sobbing, likely in shock and you noticed the glint of something metallic digging into his back. You were wondering how he became so compliant so fast and sigh into your tea. Does he always have to be so dramatic? Yes, when it comes to you, he does.

"Now, let's get out of the nice man's hair and talk it out outside. If you have any complaints, I would be delighted to hear them."

You exhaled, watching the tall figure drag the man out half limping, holding onto his broken wrist. What a vision that figure was, an imposing presence in elegant clothing draping an arm around the stranger, with the other politely behind his back.

It only took less than a minute after the door tapped shut to hear the muffled screams and sudden shot silencing all else.

As the figure entered once more, he adjusted his tie and smiled your way, charcoal eyes fully falling into you. Nonchalantly he walked up to you, then nodded at the barman. As he sat next to you, pulling you close, you noticed a speckle of red on his round cheek. He caressed your hip, your back, and planted a soft kiss on your shoulder. His hand squeezed you and you recoiled a bit.

You narrow your eyes and gaze into his, tone growing dry:

"You didn't even let him play, did you?"

He cocked his head and blinked slowly, momentarily zoning on the place he gripped, likely taken aback by your lack of warmth.

"Some players aren't worth the ink on the cards."

He adjusts his hair but zones back at you, face so close you can tell quite well the speckle isn't alone. You lean in, nudging his forehead. You cannot stay mad at him, nor ignore how lovely you feel next to him.

"You've a little something on your face, darling."

He raises his eyebrows, strong finger lifting to caress your cheek down to your chin and softly glide to your neck. The tender light touch makes you sigh in gratitude, he could read you like a book.

And...he actually took note of each passage.

He lulled with your head and mumbled softly, closing his eyes.

"We should go somewhere more private to take care of it then. I think you deserve some cleanliness too - I loathe the feeling of my beautiful flower stained with such filth."

You giggle, entirely honestly, and cup his cheek. He smiles into it and rests his head against you.

"Git a fookin' room ye twa," you hear behind you and laugh, acknowledging the warmth in the feigned exasperation of the barman's voice.

You pull away apologetically and try to keep yourself from blushing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just...haven't seen him in so long and I was worried."

The dark eyes from behind the bar positively spin in their sockets as both arms shoot up.

"Aboot him?! Lass, yer off yer rocker. Git out. Git out and have a lovely time far away from me bar."

He walked over to the figure that was still caressing you, half watching the movement, half engulfed in your touch and your presence. Enthralled by your features. As he always was. Like touching a gorgeous flower for the very first time.

"And ye be nice to the young lady. She could use it."

The finger brushing your jaw momentarily stops and your companion gets up, giving a small bow and a smile as he provides the barman with a little something from his wallet.

"Thank you. But I'm always nice to my young lady." He lifts an arm to you, and you take it.

"Shall we?"

You don't have to drown in those beautiful eyes to see the adoration and just a glint of something darker, far more animalistic, far more excited just behind the warmth.

❥❥❥

“What’s the matter?”

The door hadn’t even closed and he was already on you, hands laying on your waist. You didn’t answer, only pulled away from his grip as gently and elegantly as possible so as not to startle nor offend.

“Nothing, it’s nothing…”

His charcoal eyes watched you, travelling around your body, examining, looking for a single clue.

“We both know that’s a lie…” His voice was colder, but he didn’t try to return his touch. You could see his watchful eyes travel up your stomach, up your chest, to each shoulder, then the middle, up your neck.

Checking.

“Did someone hurt you?”

You scoffed.

“No. Your property is as shiny as ever.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Oh. Of course not. You looked away, arms crossed. He didn't move away.

“I could see it the moment I laid eyes on you, darling. Disconnected from the creep. I know your body, I know your language, it was positively screaming at me.”

He zoned in closer, carefully lifting a finger to your cheek again. When you didn’t pull away, he brushed it with his knuckle, humming to you.

“Still is. But you won’t let it speak.”

He turned his head to catch your gaze, but you didn’t look. You were shivering, hating yourself more as he was so kind. Surely he was pretending. Just to get what he wants.

But he didn’t stop. He laid his face to yours, cheek on cheek, as if you were to start a slow dance – and didn’t force you to look. Merely brushed his lips across your skin, letting you feel his presence, his warmth, his reassurance…asking for nothing. Oh, he knew you quite well. Quite well to pretend.

“And you know I despise lying…” he mumbled slowly, lips forming a small round shape on your cheekbone and travelling to your mouth. Softly he used his knuckle to turn your head and find your lips.

“I’m not lying…” you hush into his lips and let him plant the kiss, momentarily letting your guard down and lifting your hand up to cup his cheek. You could feel him smile again and the thoughts torturously let you have a moment before returning to you and burning you alive.

“Oh yes you are, my little dishonest girl.”

His soft lips took yours and you felt the pressure, the tenderness in the warmth and heat of his mouth, tongue gently tasting your upper, then lower lip, before pulling away. You felt a hand on your stomach and practically jumped.

“Is it…?”

“No!” You almost shouted, clearly offended, and threw your hands up stepping away. You couldn't look at him as your thoughts got the better of you.

“If that’s all I’m good for…is that what you want? I must be so stupid...so blind. I can't even look at myself, but at least I'm good enough for that?”

Your left eye was beginning to sparkle. You felt like you were being strangled, and he was offering you air you couldn’t breathe. It hurt even more than being actively deprived of it.

“Good enough to throw against a wall, not good enough to be human. Or even barely human, when it comes to you. Good enough to sleep with, not good enough to love. God knows if that were ever true. A connoisseur going for a cheap imitation with peeling paint and rusted edges, falling apart from its weight alone? God, I am so stupid. I’m sorry. I must have been more dishonest than even you could have thought.”

The tear fell and you looked away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry and I will leave now.”

He blinked, expression frozen and utterly unreadable. His body was unmoving, his hands showing not a hint of motion. You clearly said too much and the gears were turning slowly, meticulously, and you fully expected him to either walk out or forget he ever cared. Or simply nod and clear the way.

But he didn’t speak. He only slowly approached you, straightened to his full height and calculated in each step. As if you were a wounded crow about to use its last bastion of strength to peck his eyes out. Slowly an arm moved around you and pulled you close by the small of your back.

Avoiding your hips, gently laying his chest on yours, the salesman exhaled softly into your hair. Feeling no resistance from you, he used one strong palm to push your head under his chin so you could hear his heartbeat.

Rapid, fast, utterly betraying the cold stance he was projecting.

He wanted you to know.

He wanted you safe – and he wanted you to know his heart was as true as his demeanour was not.

As he caressed your head and hair, repeating a slow, gentle motion, he swayed with you almost unnoticeably. Just enough to not let you freeze, not let the paralysis in. Dancing you to the end of love, you bitterly thought. You could feel the rumble in his chest as you closed your eyes.

“That bad?”

And you knew there was a whole world of understanding in those two words alone.

You placed a single nod into his chest.

“Have I ever told you you’re the most beautiful flower I have ever laid eyes upon?”

You nodded again.

“And have I ever told you that the garden pales in comparison so much that the flower has learnt to hide her petals?”

You don’t move.

“And when she first opened up to me, like a lily to the heat, I could not believe my eyes. Nor my mind. Nor my luck.”

You gently allowed yourself to smile and swayed with him. His voice was strong, but the little hops in intonation you could feel bobbing against your head and chest gave it away.

“And there was so much briar growing around her, so many thorns and filth, strangling her tender stem…every day I vowed to pluck it. To keep it safe. But I wanted to let her grow. Now I see the briar strangled my rose and she’s barely here with me. Barely opening to me, loathing her own petals."

A little pause and...

"I’m sorry.”

He pulled your head up just a tad, just so you could meet his lips.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to tend to you.”

His expression momentarily softened, frowning a little too theatrically.

“Poor thing. You thought I’d let you go just like that?”

There he is.

He kissed your forehead.

“Just let you walk out?”

He kissed your cheeks, one by one.

“I don’t leave the game until the dealer is dead.”

Suddenly, you could feel his hands grip yours – not gripping your body but keeping you from moving an inch and holding you down. One foot slid between yours, nudging them and keeping them apart. Oh, he listened to you, heard you, understood you – and he’s still playing the game by your own terrible rules.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or give a standing ovation.

“A true gambler, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

He nudged your feet apart further and pushed his body against you, still not overstepping yet playfully towing the line like it was as thin as a spider’s web.

You could feel his excitement, you could feel his need – and you could feel his restraint, which melted you entirely.

“Let me play for you.”

His breath was faster now, hot on your ear. His whispers made you shiver in the warmest of ways as the suit brushed your skin in its closeness.

“If I make you believe what I see each time I look at you, I win a favour.”

You smiled, the hint of sadness still in the corner, but melting...melting slowly.

“Deal.”

“Are you sure?”

He purred in your ear, a hint of breathlessness to the heat, hand leaving yours to stop just before your ribs, hovering above your hips and playing with the air around.

Teasing. Smiling. Waiting.

A subtle nod that he caught sent his hand to your side, and you tried not to flinch. The strong fingers grip your flesh and you wince. His breath nearly stops as his hand fully connects with your skin.

“God, you are ethereal...I almost forgot my own rule. Every win is non-rescindable. Each part you give me is mine to do with as I please.”

He pulled you close now, and slowly began to push you, step by step, into the cold wall behind you. As he leaned you against it and bent to kiss your neck, he mumbled into your skin.

“Still want to play, little lady?”

You gasped as he bit your neck, suckling on your skin and traveling lower. Trailing your collarbones with kisses. Your chest heaved towards him, half from the cold of the wall behind you, half for reasons that don't belong in polite company.

You gasp and whimper, bestowing the air with sounds that send him straight into overdrive. His hands grip you so hard you twist, his body thrusts into yours and his lips claim every place he brushed with a fierce appetite.

One hand finds your head, your hair, and pulls – pulls hard enough to force your head to crane back and your neck to expose before him. As a single finger hooks itself in the hem of your neckline, he pulls away, breath fast, eyes wild. Beads of sweat forming on his perfect forehead.

“I’m waiting.”

“Make me feel…like what you see…? I don’t…believe that’s…possible.”

You try to sound as assertive as you can and fail miserably, your body quivering under him – begging for him wordlessly. And you know he knows you know. Oh, he revels in it.

A single hand ghosting the air around your neck was enough to make you half close your eyes and exhale that soft, skipped breath that he loved so much. The breath he loved to turn into a barely breathing moan for him – and his hand almost gripped your neck, forcing you to look up, forcing you to drown in those beautiful dark eyes while gasping for air.

And you do what you know is exactly what your red-haired protector warned you about. Precisely what your body was quivering for yet fearing.

You nudged your head forward, turning a nod into a neck placed right between his fluttering fingers.

And he gripped.

He gripped and pushed his lips against yours, fully tasting you, fully gorging on your every molecule, every touch, every drop. His tongue explored your mouth and his lips took yours in fully, forcing himself down your mouth and exploring every crevice. His hand slid down and found your hip, squeezing freely now, caressing every inch and sliding down, further down the curve, laying his entire palm against your beating stomach.

Each touch so sincere and possessive he could be imprinting it into his mind.

Between hurried breaths and tears at your clothing as he took you and flung you into the other side of the wall, travelling down with his mouth, kissing each breast and revering you like a man suckling on the first drop of water after dying of thirst, you could hear him gasp.

“My absolute…beauty of a woman.”

And you moved into him, parting your legs and he took the invitation with gusto – hand sliding up your thigh, circling the outside than forcing itself between your legs, once more sliding them apart with his own. Firmly placing his foot between yours and not giving you an inch to glide back into yourself.

And oh, you feel his excitement. You feel his reverence. It’s positively pushing into you. You blush into the hurried gasps and level yourself against the wall, but he catches you and pushes you down again. His body pinning you right against it, nowhere to even think to move, only his face and eyes to run to. Only his lips ready to devour you whole.

“Tell me,” he whispers and kisses the spiral of your ear as the hot breath makes your head spin, “tell me little flower…do you feel how much I love you?”

His hips push into your body, firmly guiding themselves to your navel and lower, lower still…you look away and moan softly, twitching in his grip, shivering for him but still…

“Do you feel how fucking beautiful you are, how I cannot even think to stop if I wanted to? I’m yours, entirely yours, and I don’t regret a single second. I would play a losing hand just to be in this moment a second longer.”

As he lays a single kiss between your breasts, leaving your form only to give each the care he cannot contain, you melt.

“You silly, gorgeous girl…I would lay down a royal flush just to taste you one last time.”

To underline his words, he finds each breast and kisses it between his gripping fingers. Circling you with his tongue and tenderly biting down just to hear you gasp. As he sees your lips quiver, he hungrily travels up your neck, biting and kissing every inch, until your moans and whimpers drive him even madder and force him to claim your mouth. Inching away just a moment to mumble before sinking into you again.

“Oh, my Y/N, if you knew how perfect you are to me…” he kisses you hungrily as if he cannot stand to even finish the sentence, “you would force every mirror to crack in reverence for its inability to show such beauty.”

Again his tongue is invading your mouth and you reply in tune, exploring his warmth, his lips, biting down just to feel him tense up. Just to drive him madder. As he pulls away and gazes at you, eyes flicking from yours to your mouth, your chest, your shoulders, his eyes momentarily soften.

“Every inch of you is my own blessing, Y/N. My winning card. My luck personified."

If he didn't look like he was about to eat you alive and make you beg for more, you'd almost cry at the unfitting monologue. You momentarily relax in his arms, letting the last of your guard down. Oh, that sweet cyanide voice.

"You silly, silly little girl, all mine, quivering like a little bird in the rain just for me – it’s taking everything I have not to take you right now.”

A flash of darkness you’ve known to both fear and yearn for glides across his charcoal eyes and betrays the warmth in his smile and the softness of his words.

“Then do it,” you whisper, pushing yourself against him, hips first, laying your hands on his cheeks and kissing him fully. His body replies instantly and you cannot tell which part belongs to who, the way he’s both in motion and so close to you. Pressing into you with all the love he just spoke of. Even his words come out low, fast, as if he cannot afford to be away from you that long.

“Oh, but I laid down the game, flower, I told you I’d make you feel exactly what I see each time I look at you. And I don’t skirt my games.”

He gripped your chin between his index finger and thumb and kissed you deeply once more before resting both hands against your shoulders, brushing against your collarbones like he was unveiling a painting.

He took his time to slide down to kiss your neck, your sternum, each breast, and lower, lower still, dragging the remnants of clothing out of the way. As he kissed your stomach and held your hips, he laid his cheek upon you and simply rested, revelling in the closeness. Revelling in his closeness to you.

“So utterly perfect. In every way.”

His hot whispers kissed your navel, fingers softly travelling down the curve of your hips. He then let the other hand repeat the motion as the tingles positively ate you alive and travelled around the back of your neck all the way down your spine. He began to pull your panties down, slowly, each side taking its time before kissing you even lower.

And even lower.

Lower still.

One last look up at you told you exactly how much he intends to change your mind. And as his hands gently pushed your thighs apart, he would very much imprint each and every syllable of his words into you until you couldn't moan anything else.

115 notes · View notes

erens-heart · 2 years ago

Text

detailed fluffy/smutty headcannons! draco malfoy as your boyfriend.

i’m writing this as a continuation of “ive got my eye on you”, and sooort of requested by @dolcid. i’ll hopefully write a proper part two soon but for now here are some detailed, fluffy bf!draco headcannons to keep you satisfied. ive thrown some smuttys hcs in as well, so you really get the picture (i love reading headcannons so i hope you’re as pleased with this as i am!) <3

WARNINGS! SEXUAL CONTENT. SMUT. 18+

malfoy is a really good boyfriend. you’ve never had one before though so you can’t compare him to much :(

the way he confessed to you was really impressive though (and really turned you on! drunk kisses > )

he gets better and better at kissing every time you do it. he’s not very emotional but he’s passionate, if that makes sense?

when you’re kissing he doesnt administer alot of touch himself but he loves it when you touch him. he lets you run your hands all over his chest, it makes him groan.

when he DOES touch you, its usually your thighs.

despite all the kissing, he’s actually very cautious about going any further with you, because he knows you’ve never been fucked by anyone before. in the first few weeks, he sticks to hot makeout sessions with you.

he used to tease you for being ugly when you disliked eachother, he never meant it, by the damage it did to your confidence meant you never pursued a relationship before him so you’re really a virgin in every aspect. (slay tho <3)

draco doesn’t do dates really. he likes to keep you all to himself, he’s selfish like that. so he usually invites you to the slytherin common room, and takes you up to his dorm.

he banishes the goons from the dorm to spend time with you because he knows they make you uneasy.

he really cherishes quality time over anything, that’s his love language. he doesn’t have to be kissing you the whole time, sitting beside you whilst you read is enough for him. he’s enamoured with your presence.

he’s always been enamoured with your presence, even when he pretended to hate you.

draco is quite a grumpy boyfriend. not mean. just moody. he doesnt like other people. he especially doesnt like harry potter. or anything about any of the gryffindors. you pay it no heed, you just find it cute.

he takes things further one day and you let him eat you out. he doesnt do this alot. hes mostly a receiver.

he’s really dirty when he wants to be, its the fault of his smirk, it makes him look even dirtier.

draco is heavy on the dirty talking and teasing, after all your relationship begun because of his unremitting teasing.

so when he’s licking your pussy, he’s doing it whilst smirking and cooing annoyingly because of how red your face is going.

he gets really hard because its his first time going further than kissing with you. youre the first girl that hes had feelings for as well, so it makes it unreal for him. he gets so hard he has to ask you to suck his dick.

he doesnt beg you though! his voice is cool and nonchalant like it always is.

instead of cumming in your mouth, he comes all over your pussy because he likes how it looks.

when you two finish, he isn’t one for cuddling, but he lets you lay beside him in his arm, and fall asleep on his chest.

when its time for you to go back to your dorm, he folds all of your things up for you, stacks all of your books. hes weirdly a neat-freak.

when you aren’t hanging out on his bed, you’re watching his quidditch games.

one day he has a bad fall and ends up in the hospital wing, with his arm in a sling. typical draco!

he’s a hypochondriac lol!

you drop your studies to sit with him. he grumbles profusely about the pain and the sling. he loves complaining.

you shut him up by kissing him, which makes his expression harden because you two werent public about your relationship yet. but you dont care.

when he’s injured in hospital he lets you groom his hair for him. he cares alot about his appearance. its a frequent occurance. because hes not one for skinship its how you feel close to him.

he warms to the idea of cuddling a bit, but when he does he prefers to be spooned rather than spoon you. and he always does it under the blanket so no one could accidentally see.

he’s a tall, protective boyfriend. he usually wards “threats” away with rude, witty comments, or dirty looks. he doesnt care. you’re his.

when you’re in public, he stands behind you w his hands on your shoulders so he can protect you at all times if he needs to.

he gradually becomes more comfortable being emotional around you. not emotional as in sad or cloying but. he smiles more. not big cheeky smiles, but small ones you notice when you catch him off gaurd.

he kisses you alot before bed, you start sleeping over in his bed in the slytherin dorm, you get away with it because he becomes a prefect.

he kisses the top of your head and your hands/fingertips the most. you’re precious to him, that’s how he conveys it.

after a few weeks of sleeping in his bed, he makes the ultimate move on you and fucks you for the first time. “making-love” is a bit cringe in dracos opinion, he is draco malfoy after all. but it isnt senseless fucking.

he loves the power imbalance of you getting onto your knees for him and sucking his dick. like i said, hes a receiver!

he puts his big, pale hand in your hair and bounces it harshly on his dick. he doesnt make you choke on it though, he doesnt like that.

he actually doesnt fuck you in his bed, the first time. you both get so carried away that he takes you against the wall. from all angles. behind. from the front.

it’s rough, desperate fucking. youve never been fucked before. its such a new and overwhelming feeling. youve been pining for eachother for so long.

he cums all over your pretty pussy again, but not inside it (obvs) and admires it for a while whilst catching his breath.

you start crying after! it was such an intense experience that you get a bit… worried? overwhelmed? it’s not serious crying but you need some softness.

draco isn’t always the best person to rely on for softness but he knows that you need it right now after the way he’d just fucked you.

you cuddle properly for the first time. all naked and sticky (draco HATES that, but he doesnt mind tonight bc its you) and he kisses your head over and over.

hes not big on aftercare usually. but hes patient with you tonight. he lets you sleep off the feeling, and wear his big, boxy school shirt whilst you do so. it smells of him. you love it.

you love him.

he loves you too, hes thinking.

but you don’t tell each other just yet ;)

#draco malfoy #draco x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x you #draco fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #harry potter

495 notes · View notes