#I have twists ready but not the beginning I have the idea but no words
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THE GRAVE OF LUST
a/n: this is a very random idea i had of logan not necessarily being able to go at it as he used to. which like yes i love the thought of getting my back snapped by a more energetic logan. this version of him has my heart in ways i'll never be able to explain. it's short but enjoy! divider by the lovely @saradika-graphics.
summary: when his body doesn't work as it used to and the weary bones that poison his soul begin to ache, you take the lead in a dance you know well.
OR giving old man logan sloppy head that he'll think about in the grave and after.
word count: 2k
pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, weary old man logan, domestic vibes, oral (m receiving), spit kink, cumplay, dirty talk, he may be older but he's filthier, unedited + not betad but we live and die by the fucking pen.
He doesn't touch you quickly anymore. His hands don't shove clothes off your curves and grasp your flesh with a growl of impatience. No, he no longer holds the stamina of a younger him who could spend hours between your thighs. His bones are weary, old phantom wounds ache where they shouldn't, and he feels himself step closer to his grave with each day that passes.
His hands move at a steady pace, tugging the fabric of your nightgown up inch by inch. Sleep lingers at the edge of his mind. The knowledge that he'll have to get up early with the sun still hidden from the sky. Yet you'll be here asleep—dreaming of his calloused palms on your soft skin. How he burned himself into your ribs with a kiss.
"C'mere," he mumbled, eyes narrowed and lips parted with a deep withered breath. "Let me touch you."
Denial would be a false tale on your tongue. Depriving yourself of him wasn't an option anymore. When times like this were found few and far between and his touch became a lingering memory in the back of your mind.
You couldn't remember the last time you tasted him. The last time he sunk into your wet heat with a solid groan—the muscles of his back screaming as he held his body above yours.
Age was cruel to a man who used to be so virile. He could recall the hours he took to worship your body—mold you beneath the warmth of his palms. But doing that more often wasn't something he was capable of. He still longed for you. The sounds you made, the way your face twisted in pleasure as you came on his cock, fingers, face. He craved it some nights. He felt it eat him alive.
Tonight was no different.
"How?" you breathed, eyes wide and pleading.
You were so fucking sweet he didn't even have to convince you of this. So ready to let him bring you to that peak of bliss. He could smell the heady scent of your pussy—the way it called to him with shouts of need. And if he was a younger man...he'd have you pinned beneath him. He'd hammer his hips into yours until bruises formed beneath the skin—down into the very muscles of your legs.
His graying hair and weathered face did nothing to stop the lust that poured into your face. Your eyes still drooped, mouth open and chest heaving. And Logan was a fortunate fucking man that you were still here.
So unlike his younger self, he let you take the lead.
"Can I touch you?" you asked so nicely. He groaned at the sound of it, jutting his chin down in a nod as you grasped the button of his jeans.
Any other night you'd let him take you. Give into his languid touches until you came wherever he wanted you to come. This was a rarity the longer you spent bound together by the strings of fate.
Logan fucking loved it. He ached for it on days spent away from you—time he'd never get back. But when he'd find his way home and curl his body around yours, he found that sleep was a better option. You'd heartily agree. If it wasn't for the pounding ache between your thighs each time you caught his eye. Each chance you got to see the thick arms and sun kissed skin that lay beneath his white button downs.
"Been dreamin' about this." His voice echoed with a rasp you'd grown to love. One that screamed exhaustion, yet licked a line of heat up your spine. "Such pretty fuckin' lips."
His thumb dug into the curve of your bottom lip, pulling at it until your mouth popped open. Allowing his finger to press against your tongue—saliva building at the thought of getting him in your mouth. Of him using your throat to get himself off.
You didn't even care if you finished. You just wanted to feel him.
"You're my good girl right?" A moan spilled past your spread lips, eyes fluttering when his pants slipped down and cock came free. "Yeah you are."
"Logan," you sighed. He dragged your spit across your cheek; thumb and forefinger gripped your chin to tilt your head close enough to kiss him. Only to hold you there.
"Keep 'em open baby."
The feel of his length throbbing so close to your chest—precum dotting the tip—drove you mad. You wanted him closer. Wanted to feel the bruising ache at the back of your throat as he pushed too far. Your fingers wrapped around him gently, causing him to hiss at your cold touch. The reminder to take it slow, savor him, rang in your ears. Yet the way he looked at you with a feral hunger you felt in your heart shoved those thoughts to the side.
Within his life there's only been a handful of moments he wished he could go back to. Nearly all of them were with you on nights such as this. When the moon hung low in the sky and dawn felt eons away. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to wake up tomorrow, he'd get to wake up naked by your side and bury himself in your pretty cunt.
Logan was rarely lucky.
His spit landed on your tongue, splattering against the corner of your mouth. He led your mouth down with a firm grip until you hovered directly over his cock. The dark red at the tip made you clench around nothing—the ache spreading to the base of your stomach. Screaming for you to take it. Put your mouth on him and make him finish down your throat.
"There we go," he murmured, watching his spit and yours fall from your mouth—landing directly on his twitching cock. "Pretty ain't it."
"Yeah," you gasped, nails digging into the v of his hips. "Can I taste you? Please."
The deep echo of his laugh shot through your body like a bullet. You could feel it burrow deep within, spreading across each nerve ending and vein. Being so close to what you wanted felt like torture, but with Logan you knew it would be worth it in the end. He never left you wanting.
"'Course honey." His hand cupped the back of your neck, leading you with a soft touch. "It's yours."
Yours. Yours. Yours.
With a moan, you wrapped your lips around the head of him—tongue sliding through the slit. A ragged groan tore from his chest, his eyes boring a hole into the side of your face. The knowledge that he was so far gone for you left a pleasant thrill of warmth to grow in your stomach. This strong, capable man would bend at his knees simply to see you smile.
He was your devotee and you'd become his goddess.
"Fuckin' perfect." His words were a spit of need, fingers digging down into your skin with each flick of your tongue.
You merely held him there. In your mouth with spit coating the hand wrapped around the base of him. His taste flooded your mouth, each drop a nectar you would never have enough of. And he let you have your fill. He lay still on the bed, his breaths coupled with moans as you took your time.
Slipping him a bit deeper, you felt his thighs shift beneath you—a shuddered sigh echoing the small bedroom. You'd barely begun and yet he felt the high of dizziness begin to pull at his mind. Effectively killing whatever sleep called out to him.
"Take a little more for me." He sounded gone. Your lips spread into a smile, bobbing your head and swallowing a bit more with each small thrust. "Fuck yeah. Just like that."
He pushed at the back of your throat, your jaw strained under the width of him. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And he caught them with his thumb, mixing the salt with what spit of his still remained along your skin. Tilting your head slightly, you felt him slip down your throat—your nose finding the graying curls at his base.
The loud growl that ripped through his body was all the reward you needed. He was on the fucking edge. Barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. And he knew you could tell. His thighs jolted—stomach tensing—and when your hand slipped down to tug at his balls, thumb finding the spot between, he lost it.
Snarling your name, he thrust his hips up into your mouth and felt you choke on him. Your throat constricted perfectly with each cant of his hips down into you. He gave you the opportunity to push him off—get some air down your lungs. You let him keep going—eyes fixed on the way his face screwed up in pleasure. His teeth bared and throat extended.
Another push of your thumb sent him flying over the edge with a shout. The salty tang of him filled your mouth, spilling down your throat with rope after rope of cum. And you swallowed it all despite the searing burn that spread along your esophagus. You took every fucking drop of him and allowed some to remain on your tongue.
To prove that you could take whatever he wanted to give.
"I fuckin' love you," he breathed, cupping your jaw and grinning when you stuck out your tongue—a pool of his spend dripping down your chin.
His fingers scooped it out of your mouth before you could swallow. "Up." He slapped your ass, moving you up and into his lap. "Your turn."
"I’m okay."
The glare he gave you burned its way to your lungs. "Good girls get rewarded." His fingers dipped down beneath your nightgown—pleased to find you bare—and spread his cum along the lips of your pussy. "Don't you want your reward bub?"
"Yes," you whimpered, gripping at his hair. "I do."
"Then take it."
Refusing was no longer an option when the bliss you'd been searching for finally flared to life in your body. His fingers plunged into you, curling and seeking the spot he always found with ease. And with a sharp gasp—your hand yanking at his hair—he knew he'd found it. He smiled at the sight of you. Head back and eyes shut as you fucked yourself on his hand.
"Tell me," he said. Gripping your chin, his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues. He could taste himself in your mouth. His chest rumbled with a soft sigh.
"I love you." The base of his hand ground into your clit, fingers pounding up quicker—faster. And your words pitched high with each thrust.
"I know you do." He kissed your throat, the heat of your body rubbing against his made his cock twitch in interest again. "Love you too baby."
"Fuck!" The coil in your stomach began to unravel rapidly, your body shattering into pieces you'd never find again. And he clutched you tightly to his chest. He watched in rapture at the sight of you shaking, hips bucking against his hand in quick thrusts. "Logan."
Pride bloomed in his chest. "You're perfect."
You collapsed onto his bare chest, spent and exhausted. The final tendrils of pleasure began to ebb out of your body, suddenly replaced by the comfort of him there. You pressed your lips to the center of his chest, teeth dragging along the scarred skin. And he basked in your attention—his hand trailing down your spine to knead the flesh of your ass.
"We should do that more often," you teased, lips finding his in a soft kiss.
He huffed, his eyes falling shut. "I'm too old for that."
"Believe it or not, but you're sexier older."
"Yeah?" He stirred against your stomach. "You like me old and gray?"
"Absolutely."
He smirked, pushing you up his body with slow movements. "Prove it."
#I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM#i wrote it so fast and pretty sure i blacked out#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett x you#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine x y/n#my writing
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Kinktember Day 9: Spa
Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut
words: 7,422 Kinktember Masterlist
"My client, did you see her come in?" you ask.
"No, why? Is she famous or something?"
"Well, that would explain the secrecy, and it would also explain a woman barely twenty having cash to burn at a place like this," you whisper to the colleague who is far too jealous of how you just got requested by name because that usually means big tips for a good service.
"Did you get her name?"
"Supposed to be a secret." Your answer dissatisfies her, and she throws you a side-eye. "Okay. Okay. Danielle something... Marsh?"
"Shut up!" She hits you on the shoulder. "No fucking way. Let me take this one and you can have my next ten VIP bookings."
"Sorry, but she asked for me by name," you tell her. She mutters an obscenity under her breath. "Want to tell me what I'm getting into here?"
And then the girl spews out a jumble of ramblings about K-pop this and K-pop that—the kind of reaction that only the truly obsessed can have. Millions of views on this, charting on that, really fucking popular is the gist of it. So basically the whole planet Earth knows who this Danielle is. Well, shit. No pressure or anything. "Get in there already, do your best work and maybe get me an autograph."
A few forceful pushes out of the staff room and you find Danielle where you left her, her cleansing mask still on her face, sitting in that long white robe. You step barefoot over the soft wood, heat rising from underneath it.
As you draw near, you ask, "Miss Marsh, are we ready to begin?"
"Dani, please," her voice says from beneath the mask. It's hard not to be intimated after being hit with the fact that the woman before you is world-renowned. Though from here, she looks like any other delicate young woman. Her feet are small. Bare, tiny and arched, they hang just a few inches from the floor, and they are as perfectly still as the rest of her. "No need to be formal, I'm here to relax."
"Then let me start by offering you a drink." The bottle pops as you twist it. The label is adorned in cursive. "Bottled at source, premium mineral water." Your arm raises the bottle so she can see the brand clearly.
"Is it magical water?" There is a playful lilt in her voice, "Maybe it has some healing powers?"
"Guaranteed to nourish the soul and unclog those emotional pores," you deadpan.
The facemask stretches with Dani's wide smile, and she lightly chuckles. "That's good, laughter is good for the soul."
"Right." You pour from a height and a theatrical stream flows. When the flute is halfway, you stop the flow and pass it to her hands, which take it gently.
"What? You don't even hold the glass for me? Put it to my lips and tilt?" It's another tease, the joke stretching on her grin, but now it is her hands holding the flute, her fingers long and smooth around the stem.
"I serve, not control."
"Those don't have to always be exclusive." She laughs, and the sound makes you feel something. "But I appreciate the intention. I hear you're the best in the business."
"I'll let you be the judge, Miss Marsh. Now, allow me to remove that mask. I have raised the temperature in here to help open the pores, and I would like to begin with a facial."
"I do love a facial." Danielle smiles to herself. "And again, please, just Dani is fine."
You step over behind her, where her head tilts back against the chair, her long hair cascading below, shimmering in the moist air. Lightly, you place the tips of your fingers along her jawline, finding the edge of the mask and gently lifting it upwards. She doesn't flinch at all, and you watch the wet mask give way to her face. Even upside down, Danielle is indeed beautiful.
With her sun-kissed hair, radiant skin, and effortless, elegant beauty. She is, in summation of all her parts: perfect. The image the word calls up has always been fuzzy around the edges, an abstract idea more than a specific concrete thing, because real people aren't like this. That's what you believed until you laid eyes on her.
"You take good care of your skin, Miss—Sorry—Dani."
"Thank you," she says simply, no joke this time. Your fingers ghost over her chin and then trace to her cheekbones, moving lightly to test her texture, all so smooth.
"First, I shall cleanse away any impurities," you say and lean down to examine her face. Even when you are so close, there is nothing for your scrutiny—no visible crevice, no blemishes, despite there being not a trace of make-up. It's all-natural.
There's a light whisper on her lips, one that you barely make out, "Good luck with that."
You tilt your head as you reach over for a fresh sponge, run it under hot water until it is filled, squeeze out the excess, and slowly drag a path of heat across her forehead. As your other hand holds the sheet over her neck to catch stray water, your first-hand works in large strokes from above, rinsing her skin with each successive pass.
As you focus, she leans back into the chair, and a soft hum escapes her lips. "Feels nice already," she murmurs.
You say nothing, working her in silence. Her eyelids are closed, her lips slightly parted, and she remains so still that, if not for the sound of her breaths, she could be easily mistaken as unconscious. This silence has a tranquillity and familiarity to it, one that feels like home, and without thinking, you are smiling.
She stays just the same as you begin to exfoliate her, brushing across her face in ever-widening circles. It's with such tenderness that her cheeks take a pink tint as she grows hotter and she smiles as you rub in gentle swirls, one spot, then the next.
Time passes in silence as you finish the exfoliation and apply all manner of natural, topical lotions, toners, and peels to Dani. When her skin is primed, you press your fingers against her skin and, starting at her forehead, you massage her face to a rhythm of long, soothing strokes. You enjoy touching her, you admit, which isn't exactly right for a professional, but since you have no outward reaction from her, you assume it isn't the end of the world.
Throughout it all, she keeps her eyes shut. Over time you move around her face, applying more pressure in some spots than others. She shifts and sighs, soft exhalations of her warm breath tickling your arm, yet otherwise doesn't move an inch. Her shoulders relax against the leather of the seat. "You really know what you're doing," she says, with a smirk. You pull her skin with your fingertips, moving them in large circles as it comes to an end. Finally, you tap your fingers gently over her skin to soothe.
"Now, your body, Dani."
Her eyes crack open, but slowly. "Are we moving?"
"I'll wash your skin over there, but the massage will be in the next room. Now, I'll need you to—"
Dani doesn't let you finish your sentence before she rocks forward in her seat and pushes herself to a stand. She's facing away from you and puts her hands in front of her, then she throws the robe back off her shoulders and lets it slide off her arms to the floor in one quick motion.
"Good," she says. "I was for too hot in that thing anyway."
Of course, as a professional, you would never gasp in surprise, yet, at the sight of her ass, the muscles tight, small, and round, the curves of her waist so thin, hair over her shoulders threatening to hide her slender back and those long slim legs, you manage to just barely gulp.
Too hot, she certainly is, you want to tell her and not just in the sense that perspiration coats her skin. Tiny beads of sweat that, as your eyes crawl over her, are in the process of running downwards. This glistening on her flesh is hypnotic. The curve of her ass, the slight tilt of her hips forward, the way the base of her spine leads downward, right down to a crack between her—
Focus. You remind yourself you have a job to do.
"In the far corner. The stone pool. Please, stand by the edge." It takes a second before Dani's head bobs, and then she slinks forward, slow and catlike. Her stride, and every motion of her muscles beneath her flesh that accompanies it, are mesmerising. And with every sway of her hips, you love her tight body more.
She pauses, a foot by the edge, and looks down into the water. Steam rises and envelops her form in a pale white that hugs her curves.
"Please, step in," you say as you walk over to her side and take her hand. Now, you catch a glimpse of her profile, and her chest, small, round and perky, and as you avert your eyes to guide her down the step, you tell her, "Watch your step now, go from stone to stone until you stand in the middle just there."
"Got it," Dani says. She steps with confidence and the hot water reaches quickly above her ankles and then halfway up her calves. With each careful move down the next step she gasps, soft and light. The water splashes with her movement and then swallows her up to the upper thigh.
"Please, take a seat there, on the wide stone." You reach to help steady her as she sinks down, her knees bending as she perches down so the water is at her hips as she sits.
"I just sit?"
"Yes, Dani, and I will bathe you." You step into the pool until the hot flowing water covers your knees, and then you stand behind her. You reach for a sponge, submerge it, and watch it fill, then draw it out and over her lower back and drag a large circle across her soft skin. "How's the water? Feel okay?"
"Great. Wow." She goes quiet as you work up and down her back, long, relaxing, soothing strokes until all the tension has left her shoulders. "That's wonderful," she says.
You clean her shoulders and then down her arms, the sponge dipping under the surface, and caressing her in a movement that feels like worship. With a slow rhythm, you run the sponge over her shoulders and around her neck, and finally, reaching over her, down to her chest. She shifts back as you do, resting herself against your legs. You run it over her chest a few times before coming up again to her shoulders.
"So soft..." her voice says, almost a breathy moan, and you catch a hint of it. Maybe she realises how it sounds because she soon goes quiet. Next, you work downwards, to her tight, toned stomach. Slowly you make sure you cleanse every part of her body. All while her back rests on you and her breathing is warm and pleasant.
"Miss, I mean Dani, can you stand now? We need to get you clean." You prompt, a hand on her shoulder.
"Sure." Dani snaps out of it. She stretches and cracks her neck before rising, leaning forward for a moment. When she rises, ripples run out in all directions and your eyes drift over her ass. It looks plump, perky, perfect. Then you sponge it, giving purpose to your stare. You push it down, over her cheeks and Dani shivers.
You repeat your slow, languid movements. Wipe away any trace of imperfection from her hips and thighs and then when you make her slowly step out of the pool, you work down her bit by bit. Finally, she stands on the edge of the pool, looking down at you, towering over you in her naked glory. She presents to you her foot and you hold her ankle to steady it and clean each digit, scrubbing between the toes.
"You can take the towel, on the peg, Dani."
"You do it." Dani doesn't move at all, keeping her eyes on you, staring into your eyes and through you.
You cautiously nod and then climb from the pool. You keep eye contact and wrap the towel around her small, wet frame. In your arms, she feels so fragile. You rub her down, first her legs. Long strokes, left and right. Each, in turn, both legs. Then you bring the towel up. When you wrap it over her hip and move upwards along her torso, Dani presses herself to you.
"You really know how to put someone at ease," she mutters.
You nod silently in return, and finish drying her shoulders, down her arms, back up, and down her back. You remain stoic as the heat between you builds, and she turns around without prompting. You wrap her again and bring the towel all the way down. Then over her rear. Soft, short circular motions with your palm.
"The table in the next room, Dani. Start by lying on your front, you can use the towel on the table to cover yourself. Once I see you settled in, I'll join you."
She laughs quietly and starts her slow walk to the door. You take your own towel, drying your legs, the water has soaked into the front of your shorts from where she leant against you.
She's on the bed. The towel, provided for her decency, is in a pile on the floor.
"Dani, the towel..."
"I'm fine, I want it off. I want everything off. Is that a problem for you?" There's this undeniably confident quality to her like the universe just has to be as it is because she likes it that way.
"Not a problem," you tell her. "It does tend to get in the way."
You're close to the bed now, looking down at her, still so perfectly nude. So vulnerable and relaxed, and not a drop of shame in her eyes. She gives you a look that says she's in charge, and that she's been waiting for this, and now it's finally going to happen. And that smile is impossible to refuse. "You could join me if it helps. Make it feel more like an equal partnership."
"Miss— I—"
"I'm joking," she winks. Danielle bunches her hair by her head and turns her head to the side as she rests.
The first of your oils, imported, rich and infused, drip with a consistency thick as honey over her. You watch it roll from the top of her back and run down her spine. Its warmth makes her twitch gently.
Slowly you reach out, press your hands into her skin and drag them from top to bottom, following the oil, making sure you cover her.
She hums in delight.
With great care, you begin your work. Fingers sink in, and your thumbs feel her muscles. Stroking and rubbing, from the top of her back, your fingers coax and prod at the flesh beneath. Pressing it back and forth, at times as gentle as a summer breeze and then as hard as a hammer.
There are knots in her back, beneath the tender surface. You find them easily and work at them to relax, coax them into submission, untying the muscles until they go soft. She gasps at your touch as you release them. Her body responds to you in the sweetest ways. With the smallest of whispers, the little fluttering breaths, and with her skin taking on a pink glow.
When the last knot goes soft, she writhes in response, and a content, relaxed murmur comes out of her.
"Oh god, that's it, don't stop," she says, the first words to come from her for a while.
"You were very tight." You reach across, add a small amount of more oil and start working back upwards. One stroke at a time. Up her neck. Over her shoulders. She trembles when you go deep into her flesh and reaches out to grasp at something, anything, and finds the edge of the table, holding herself steady. Her arms now, you lift them one by one, prying them from her grip and then holding and rubbing and pulling to coax the stiffness out.
Oil over her legs, next. Slowly you run your hands over the outside and inside and rub them into her skin, kneading it into her. Danielle keeps her mouth firmly shut the whole time. No jokes. Nothing funny. You lean down to her, focusing on her thigh that refuses to let go. Bending down, you push into her. As you feel her tension drain, you are rewarded with another quiet hiss.
You place the oil upon her feet and work it into her soles with a finger, an instant trigger, she cackles as her foot recoils at your touch. "Sorry, that's a bit ticklish," she tells you, apologetically.
Her feet go still and she inhales deeply as you set back to your task, much to the quiet amusement of Danielle. It's the slowest you have ever worked on a client, with long, dragging strokes to make sure she really enjoys it. Each is careful, so careful, to pull and tease. "Keep working it all the way up, all the way up my legs," she orders, quietly. "Nice and slow. Can you do that?"
You agree.
You hear Danielle sigh as you move your hands slowly up her calf. So soft and firm at the same time as she breathes so gently. A trace of laughter, an easy smile. You work her in the same manner, up her thigh, as slow and relaxing as before, massaging deep and heavy. Danielle begins to roll her hips as you grip the flesh at the top of her thighs and dig in.
"Higher, please, just for me." Danielle makes a little hum to accompany the instruction. You obey, knowing where this is leading. You take the oil, and let it pour lightly onto the peak of her cheek, it threatens to roll away so you capture it in your palm, a firm squeeze of her rear, a spread of oily warmth. She shivers and pushes up her hips in silent encouragement.
Your hands trail along, smooth and oily, each touch brings more shivers. Her legs part slightly, a slow squirm of her hips. Your fingers glide on her tight, round cheeks; running across, back and forth as she breathes deep. You press deeper with each sweep and listen as her gasps become a little louder, and her body moves a little more. She bends her arm, reaching back, as you watch it shake. Her nails claw onto the side of the bed.
The more you tease her with your touch, the harder she grips and the more she parts her legs. You've known the perfection of her body, just by seeing it, but this feeling confirms it.
Your hand wanders with long, oily strokes as you glide up her back, tracing the curves of her slim back up, all the way to her neck. There, you hold her as you lean in. "You can turn over now. Let's work out your front," you say, and Dani nods in agreement.
She smiles, though she remains silent, slowly, with such care, turning onto her side, then twisting to face you, her face flush, eyes drowsy, her mouth agape. She rests upon her back, arms by her sides, legs flat against the bed, open, as you gaze into her eyes.
You apply the oil with long slow strokes down her stomach, feeling her as she flinches, watching the dimples at her waist appear then vanish with her body's twists, with every flexing of her muscles. When you trace up, her flat, beautiful chest, and slowly slide a finger beneath her small pert breast, Dani takes a deep, quick, raspy breath, then says, "They didn't lie when the reviews said you have the best hands in the world."
Your oil-covered thumbs graze upon her nipple, soft at first, gentle in pressure, but this becomes firmer, building and rising, faster. Round and round it swirls, and this delight sends Danielle's breath to hitches and sharp, shallow pants. As she squirms in delight, her legs twist, rubbing and clenching. Her teeth bite down on her lips. The flesh of her body glistens.
One hand reaches, down a thigh then back up, across her stomach and down the other. Repeated in pattern as the other thumb never ceases on her pert nipple. Dani's eyes go blank as your touch continues, circling, teasing, stroking and grabbing. Her body responds and you are delighted to witness every tremor and gasp as it arches. And finally, for the first time, a full-blooded moan rings free.
Your hand goes lower. Deeper into the pit of her thigh as she spreads her legs wide. You seek out the inevitable and when you reach her crotch, you watch her tense up. And when the touch slides between her pussy's folds, and against her clit, there's an immediate reaction, her body jumping as you make the slightest flick of motion with your middle finger. You lift and let a trail of oil roll down her slit and back down to her rear.
"I wasn't really joking before," she gasps. "You should be naked. It would make this whole experience better." Dani tilts her head, fixes her drowsy gaze onto you, and holds the stare for what feels like a hundred heartbeats. "Don't you think that's fair? The way things are going?"
You hold the eye contact and consider this, a sudden lump in your throat making any immediate reply a struggle. Her eyes don't move from yours. Even her chest barely heaves with her short, fast panting.
"Go on, I want you naked. I'm going to feel so, so empty otherwise..."
That's all it takes.
How could you deny her?
Your hands, still covered in the hot oil, reach for the buttons at your collar. You slip them in order from the top and release one after another. Danielle's lips twitch, and her teeth rake them to a shine. Your clothing drops to the floor. Bared. It feels so wrong, and unprofessional, yet Dani looks on and gapes with a hungry, dark delight.
"Nervous now?" Her eyebrow twitches up.
"Never," you bluff.
Danielle's mouth stays open wide, and her breaths get caught and flicker as your touch returns to the same spot as before. Gentle, light touches flutter with your fingertips, drawing the tips of your fingers back and forth, back and forth, over her clit. You watch as her eyes widen, how her legs straighten out and she starts to kick her feet with the faintest hint of frustration as you tease.
"I paid for a deep massage." She emphasises the adjective, dragging the syllable out like a whine. "This teasing is bad for my heart," she whispers.
Her arm rises, then reaches for your chest and trails its way downward. The pressure of her finger, nails lightly scratching at your skin, trailing down to the waistline and then she wraps her slender fingers around you. It's hard. Incredibly so.
"And I'll show you how generous I can be with a tip."
She licks her lips slowly and sensually as her eyes meet yours with a mischievous gleam.
You grunt, pressing down with your fingertip, and then without a second thought, push it inside of her. Danielle throws her head back in silent bliss.
"Holy shit," she mumbles in a muffled, muted moan. "Don't hold back." You circle inside her slowly with one finger, letting the oil's moisture guide you. Then, adding a second digit, you delve back into her, pushing in deep and making sure she can feel it all the way inside as the palm of your hand pushes against her crotch.
Dani rolls her head to one side as you work, staring you right in the eyes and biting down on her lip as she throbs and you press down inside of her, moving in all sorts of subtle directions that are impossible for her to guess. With that, she moans again and there's a little grunt from deep within her. Her fist twists around you and she gets bolder with her touch.
You build it into some sort of rhythm and she moves, each time, reacting so well with your own thrusts. When she's relaxed enough for it, you introduce another finger.
"I— You can— Go a little bit faster," she pleas. Stretched wider, Dani starts to grow even more restless. This time, instead of small, languid strokes, your whole hand works, fingers rubbing and swirling, thumb finding her clit to massage it with purpose, building, always building, until she is shuddering under you, every single time, tensing and twitching with every change in direction.
"Come on—more," she pleads, bucking up against your hand, so slick with arousal.
She's barely jerking your cock, not even intentionally, just the jolts through her body causing the occasional twist of her grip or slide of her palm. You let it just rest in the loose curl of her grip and focus on doing what she commands, twisting your hand, gripping and stroking, tugging in circles and holding inside. The quivering gets worse and worse. And her breath grows heavier.
You keep working her relentlessly, as she squeals a drawn-out curse. Dani nearly loses control. She grips you hard, tightens her fist around you in spasm, a pained wince on her face, as she curls her toes so hard.
"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." It's the only thing she says, no jokes, no banter, as her eyes roll back, mouth agape as if the wind's been knocked from her, and a final, body-length spasm overtakes her. Her whole body. Back arched off the table, eyes pinched shut. It lasts for the longest time, almost impossible to sustain, you watch with an odd mix of terror and wonder. Her hair is a mess. Her naked, stretched-out limbs, glisten in the warm light.
It takes her a good half minute to fall back down, her lungs now sucking in the air as if there were none at all. One leg quivers. Her breaths slow, her eyes open again and you're holding her stare, her cheeks a faint scarlet, strands of hair plastered across her forehead.
More oil. More rubbing. From tension to relaxation again. Slowly she softens and you turn her whole body limp beneath your hands. All while you barely manage to hold yourself back from ravishing her. She keeps her eyes fixed upon you, so you force a smile, ignoring the ache clenched in her fist. You could kiss those lips, right now. Taste them. How soft and smooth would she feel pressed against you? What noises would come out of her?
You'd be forgiven for letting your imagination run wild with desire, but not forgiven for taking this service in any direction that Danielle didn't command.
She watches your thoughts as they float by, and seems to be considering the same. Then she smirks, and just with a look, reassures you that it's going to happen, and it's going to happen just exactly the way she wants it.
You're working your slick hands over her midriff, and have been for a minute or two, waiting for instruction. You work slightly up her body, perilously close to taking some initiative, but then she speaks, "That was... unexpected."
"Was it? Seemed to be your plan all along."
"Planned to tease. Planned to be touched. But did not expect it to be that good." She shakes her head softly, her cheek touching her shoulder as she stares with a fuzzy, dreamy look that is impossible to decipher. She has a cute, beautiful way of pouting her lips that's fascinating, you're struck still, hypnotised by the sight and the motion. "A few more would be perfect."
"You have me booked for another hour, and the client gets what the client wants."
Dani laughs. A light, melodious chime. "I know what I want," she tells you, gently rocking her palm over your cock. "I'm incredibly hard to fully satisfy, you better get to work."
Dani releases you from her grasp, and turns back over to her front, stretching out once more and looking back at you over her shoulder, holding a stare as she parts her legs. This stare could kill a man if his heart were too weak, and though your heartbeat quickens, your mind focuses on your purpose.
Your hands glide over her oil-coated thighs, wet and glistening. Dani rests her head back down and you are unable to stop your gaze from wandering along her spine, the gentle dimple above her ass, the two tight round cheeks below and the line bisecting between them. Up over her ass, you caress, then you slip and stroke in the valley, this, she clearly enjoys, judging from how her butt rises to greet your touch, her hips rolling once more.
Lower now. Lower and lower, until once again, your finger meets her lower lips and she hisses an inwards breath and tenses. Her body is so reactive to every touch. It makes this so easy, so rewarding, so deeply arousing. You are confident you can build her up, high, and crash her down in waves, for hours, until the sun breaks.
Two fingers again, to begin, that same twist and swirl to coax her towards delirium. Her quiet huffs and suppressed moans fill the air. With a heavy push, you dive in deeper, to watch as her whole body, muscle by muscle, starts to become lost in the sensation. And when you curl your fingers down and grind the heel of your hand over her clit, Dani absolutely loses it. She bites the sheets, body tight, hands trying to grab the far edge of the bed to give something to hold onto.
Her feet kick uselessly and a series of incomprehensible phrases fill her breath and break apart on the way out of her. Though you don't quite understand them, you grasp the meaning. This is what she wants you to do right now, to see how high you can bring her.
Her whole body starts trembling again. Tingling, quivering, shivering. It's one constant shake and her moans are louder, and longer. She struggles to breathe out a scream. Sweat begins to mix in the oil, and she lets out another unintelligible mess of words as you pull away. Dani collapses back into a quivering heap, gasping for air and stretching her hands out as if reaching out to the void, reaching out, grasping for something in the dark.
She lies there, spent, breathing deep. Her entire body is hot and burning as her muscles relax. Each breath is a moan, and her thighs clamp tightly together as if the feeling of nothing after being so worked up is torturous to endure.
Your fingers are soaked in her creamy fluids, it drips down onto the bed below. Yet somehow, this isn't over. No. There's a single goal, right in the back of your mind, that's never stopped clawing. If only you could taste her. Sink your face between her firm ass cheeks and tease her with your tongue and suck and devour her, the entirety of her.
Maybe you could ask. Or maybe you could just start kissing her lower back, your nose rubbing against her tailbone, working to the left, towards her hip and tease, trailing your lips ever lower to a spot just over the peak of her butt, until she wants your tongue to dive right in.
The thought is interrupted by her blessing, "Again. Another. However you want," her words stumble upon each other, a raspy, spent quality to her. "Whatever you want."
You kneel at the very end of the bed, lean over and take her hips and you lift them up with an abrupt strength that earns her immediate interest, judging by her sudden gasp. You put her on her knees, ass in the air. Beneath it, her lips shine and spread. You're going to drown in her. You lean over, planting kisses along her body until they land right where your fingers had been, right along her soaked pussy.
The taste is so sweet. Dani whimpers as her body twitches. Your lips part her, and your tongue stretches and laps her up with an unshakeable excitement. Dani tastes amazing, like every inch of her, hot and rich and so unbelievably delicate. She is desire—concentrated and distilled into the female form. Your mouth descends, kissing every tiny spot you can reach, your lips closing, sucking the sticky warmth into your mouth. You might spend the rest of eternity here, savouring her juices.
Each rough lick gives Dani a small burst of pleasure. This is perhaps not the most elegant approach, but you wouldn't dream of stopping and so you continue, over and over, eager to return Dani to her previous, tranced bliss. So wet and sweet and smooth as velvet, your tongue flattens over her clit.
Dani cums twice like this. Ass in the air, your face in her cunt, two more delicious releases and you lap up both. They come accompanied by Dani's musical screams and moans and swearing and mumbles and complete incoherence. Every part of her body tenses. Every movement becomes forced, with less control, until every part of her, quivering and shaking, is taken by a rapture. Her throat chokes off her moans and breathy whimpers, and then she becomes lost for a time, struggling to remember to breathe, caught up in the overwhelming, and unstoppable waves.
"Enough, enough," Dani chokes out, and so you stand back, watching as she twists back into a flat position on her back again, her hips shaking with the effort. She trembles for a while longer before lying perfectly still on the table. As you gaze at her, she still appears ethereal, unattainable. She gazes up at you with lidded eyes and the drowsy content smile that rests upon her lips—she is a goddess. Even after all those body-racking orgasms, she settles into that same elegant grace that makes you question what makes her mortal.
Dani raises a hand and curls a beckoning finger, "Come here."
And you come to her, to her smile that draws you in, a moth to a flame and the moth will burn, not the flame, it will never tire, it will consume anything. She takes you in her hand, hard and throbbing under her delicate touch, and yet so helpless against it. With a pull, Dani draws you in—to consume.
She parts those pretty, pink, curled lips and then looks up into your eyes and sighs as her warm breath runs across your length. Danielle curls her tongue to the underside of your head and engulfs it. She doesn't raise her head from where it rests, instead making you clamber up to her, so you put a knee on the wooden frame and a hand next to her shoulder. The heat grows, and Dani is swirling her tongue over your tip, making you twitch and throb in her grasp, a slave to her touch.
You're pushing forward, leaning over her, as her mouth opens wide and lets you in, then, all at once, tightens. Her tongue and lips stretch around your thickness and then enclose you, sealing tight. She makes a point of looking you in the eye, holding your stare, a curl at the corner of her mouth that only further sets a tremble to your loins. She pulls, slow, agonising and without hurry, her mouth holds tight and sucks back.
You pull out of her, an inch, and she stays clamped tight and as she draws away, she uses the time to slowly slide her tongue along and around your crown and against the sensitive underside. Once Danielle has pulled right off with a wet smack, the warmth of her breath covers your cock once more. She flicks her tongue against your tip, first as a long, sweeping, lingering brush, then a rapid flick that teases.
"Dani, fuck," you groan.
"That's the idea," she whispers, right against you, her warm, panting breath driving you crazy, her own burning desire barely contained. "Get down there and do me. Right now."
Then, in one fluid movement, her hands find her legs. She grips behind her knees and pulls her thighs up and back. She spreads her legs wide, with her feet in the air.
"Fuck me. I mean it," she states firmly, fixing you with that stern gaze. Her words send a flaming arrow directly to light the most basic of your instincts.
She has presented everything to you and wants to give even more. You can think of nothing else but ploughing her into the table until your vision fades to white. It takes only seconds and you find yourself over her, between those slim legs. You put a hand on each thigh and spread her.
Cock bearing down on her leaking cunt, you lower your body until she has all of your weight on top of her. Her hips squirm under your pressure, and she drags your arm tighter around herself until she finds exactly what she's been looking for. A rub between her folds as your length slips against her, up and down.
"Mmm, yes," she giggles, "put it in, all of it."
In an almost unconscious action, you place the head of your cock against her opening. Her wetness provides no friction, and Dani uses her nails to scratch your back impatiently. Slowly you flex forward. Every inch. So warm, so fucking hot. Tighter than anything.
"Oh, yes," is all Dani has to say as her breath cuts short. You feel the intense squeeze, you have no doubt this is a step beyond the pleasure your fingers gave her, and her entire body tightens, and she pulls you in, deep and full. Her eyes grow wide and her fingers dig into you as you draw back and drive in once more.
Another moan, her pitch gets deeper, this one drawn out from her very core. You hear it right in her chest, from the depth of her lungs, before it squeals free, right into your ear. "Worth every penny." Her words are thick and drawled, hard to make out, she can't seem to decide whether she wants to open her mouth or close it and keep it shut.
She wraps her arms tight around your neck and pulls you in deeper, you push her legs higher, folding her body up and it only makes things tighter, a thrill she clearly relishes.
You roll forward, holding her close to you, giving you a better purchase with her feet held up so high. Dani groans as you bite and suck at the soft skin along her neck. Your thrusts are still slow, so damnably slow. You push, and fill, and wait. Over and over, it's a cruel torment to both of you.
"Ah, come on. Give it to me, hard," Dani says, raking nails on your neck. She turns her head. Finds your mouth. Seals her lips against yours. Teeth nibble and then her tongue penetrates your mouth. Her hips start to rise and drop. Her sex grabs at you, pleading to pound her.
So you let go of your iron self-restraint and fuck her. Fuck her good.
Your tempo grows more powerful. Her walls squeeze and pull and writhe with a desperate need. It's tight, so, so tight, the way she envelops you, the slick warmth around you. Each stroke sends a shudder through her. Another ripple follows and with it, her high, pitchy wails. Dani's never been so loud, so demanding that her pleasure be delivered.
Number five is close, you can feel her body going rigid, the quivering, twitching, curling of her toes, the growing tension, you go faster, a force building within, trying to rush her to the inevitable. Dani screams, moaning incoherently, her eyes screw tight as you throw yourself into her with such ferocity, like an animal, with no regard for pace, or rhythm. Pure, unrelenting pleasure.
She grips so hard on your shoulder, and then her other hand goes back, over her head, gripping the edge of the table in white-knuckled desperation. "I'm... cumming," Dani spits through a clenched jaw, unable to even form her tongue around the word.
Her orgasm feels more powerful this time, so much more; it flows through her and you can't help but stare. Watching the way the pink blossom blooms on her face and how the rest of her pales. One orgasm into another, you think, it's difficult to discern. You're in no rush. No race. Instead, you delight in the absolute loss of control you see in Danielle's face and you feed off it.
Her mouth forms a soundless scream and she reaches up and sinks her nails into your chest and drags them across, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to leave marks. It feels amazing. All the more so watching Danielle break herself, willingly.
"Holy shit..." Danielle pants then sucks air into her empty lungs.
Her little, flexible body, pinned beneath yours, seems incapable of even the tiniest motion, save the trembles.
Through gritted teeth, she says, "I want— I want a facial. My face. Cum."
This is the single sexiest thing she could have possibly said at that moment. For all the time you've spent watching that pretty doll-like face contort in a hundred different ways, you want nothing more than to see it coated with your lust. To paint every last bit of that sweetness on her lips, on her cheeks—everywhere. To witness that brief moment, after climax where she is confused and awash with bliss and trying to remember how to breathe, and it's interrupted by a load of your cum. You want it.
You round the table, standing over her head, lowering down and watching her eyes spark with anticipation. Danielle knows how bad you want it, how close it is, and you watch, enraptured by the way she tilts her head up and licks her lips. Her little, eager tongue.
Dani wraps her fingers around you and strokes and pumps fast, pulling, urging you to completion, teasing you to spill over her, onto those pretty, dainty features. Your skin feels alive, like static and pinpricks and pure lightning, like your nerves have come to the surface. Pent-up energy coils low, threatening to snap. You cannot resist her anymore.
It all unfurls in a glorious, explosive instant. Blinding. A shiver climbs up your spine, spreading to every limb in one long spasm. A long, raw growl in your throat as you shoot thick and hard, some on her face, and some overshooting onto her chest. Dani gasps a cute little "Oh" and then starts to giggle as the second rope lands right over her perfect little features. And then another, this time across the bridge of her nose and her cheek and down her lips. Her tongue collects whatever it can.
Dani's small hand keeps a hard grip and keeps coaxing, even as you feel like you have nothing to give, with it all painting her face, still, she jerks up and down, until you are empty, trembling and drained. Still, she goes, forcing you through painful shivers, laughing the whole time until the pain becomes too much, and your hands take hers and pull.
You prop yourself against the table, looking down at the mess you made. Dani's happily laughing to herself, licking up what she can. "You'll need to clean me again now, won't you? Sponge away all your dirty filth," she giggles.
Her giggle is intoxicating. Loving. It warms you right through. You wish you could bottle up her laughter.
"Need a minute," you grunt, and there's so much pride on her cum-strewn face.
"Aw, need time for recovery?" Dani quips. "I'll just lay here, all messy and defiled. Waiting to be tended to. Enjoy the sight of me, of your filthy cum all over my sweet, innocent face, until you get the strength to lift me. Really, don't rush, I love this feeling."
#kinktember#kpop smut#Danielle smut#newjeans smut#kpop fanfic#male reader#m reader#smut#Danielle x reader#spa#danielle marsh
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filling the void (9) II a.putellas
part of the filling the void universe ft solstråle from @girlgenius1111 family line series filling the void (9) II a.putellas
you twirled a pen between your fingers as your gaze flickered downward, tapping your phone and rolling your eyes seeing another five minutes had passed without a text, solstråle now nearly fifteen minutes late and not any sort of explanation offered.
at first you’d wondered if maybe she got lost, but alexia had already told you that mapi had shown solstråle exactly where the library was.
your sister herself had locked you in her car and refused to let you out today until you promised to be nice, after insisting on picking you up from work and dropping you off to your little study session to ‘save you a walk, which really you knew was just her way of ensuring you didn’t bail.
not that you had plans to, but you were starting to wonder if solstråle was.
alexia had at least followed through on her part of the study deal, and with some sly timing on your shopping trip inside her closet and olga keeping the blonde distracted during, you’d wound up with more than you were promised, much to alexia’s disdain once she noticed a couple of days later exactly what was missing.
having been raised right you were more than ready to be nice and attempt again to break through solstråle’s awkward interior as you arrived and made your way to the breakout room you’d booked.
after filling mapi in on what happened at the game and how you were sure solstråle already disliked you, mapi was quick to assure it wasn’t you, ingrids sister was just…quiet.
so trying to prepare best you could for what was in its entirety a new experience for you, you’d spent the morning sourcing some worksheets online and scouring your room for your old textbooks.
having given most of them away you at least still had a couple of basic ones from your final year of school, but you also just had no idea where the norwegian you’d be tutoring was even up to or what bar her spanish she specifically would want and need help with.
however now, still in your work scrubs with a hoodie tossed over the top and the beginning dull throb of an impending headache settling behind your eyes, your willingness and readiness to be so nice to the clearly time poor norwegian was wagering on paper thin.
tapping your nails against the desk you briefly considered leaving, a quick check showing the next bus you could take home was in five minutes and the stop was right outside, but just as you were preparing to pack up your things there was a knock on the door.
the taller brunette didn’t wait for you to say anything, the knock seeming more to let you know she’d arrived as she closed the door behind her and slumped down in the seat across from you, backpack dumped on the table and not a single word of conversation offered.
“llegas tarde.” you raised an eyebrow and stared her down as she looked right back at you blankly and your eyes rolled. “you are late.” you repeated in english, the norwegian shrugging and mumbling a quiet seemingly unbothered apology.
knowing that holding onto the anger simmering inside you would only make this even less productive you paused to calm yourself, twisting alba’s bracelet on your wrist and counting to five in your head before deciding to just start this all over fresh.
“um i do not really know where to start. do you have homework?” you guessed might be a decent starting point, the girl nodding wordlessly and moving to unzip her bag, pulling out a few loose worksheets as you cringed at the obvious disorganisation hidden within her backpack.
she slid the worksheets across the table as you flipped them around and scanned them, noting some were history and rest spanish language and literature. “do you have one you want to do more?” you questioned, solstråle only shrugging. “vale. or we could work on your spanish?” another silent shrug.
you could feel your patience being tested with each passing moment she remained quiet, trying to remind yourself over and over what mapi said about this taking some time, but this was rapidly seeming much more impossible than you were lead to originally believe.
“is there things you ah, struggle with? with spanish?” you questioned further, another shrug as you inhaled sharply and again counted to five in your head.
“bien. let us work through this then, I think I remember this case study.” you mumbled, scooting your chair around the table so the two of you could both read the worksheet right side up, not missing the way the older girl was fast to tense up and lean right away from you.
you tried not to be offended, subtly sniffing yourself and frowning when all you could smell was the perfume you’d spritzed yourself with, maybe it was too strong or she just had a sensitive sense of smell.
none the less taking your time you read through the first question, trying to speak slowly and clearly, well aware english was not either of your native languages. “did you bring the article?” you asked, checking the papers she’d put down and not able to find it in the small stack.
“a yes or no would work.” you remanded when once more all you got was a shrug, followed by an eye roll and a hand shoved into the backpack.
“how do you even find the right paper in there?” you asked with a disturbed look, solstråle pausing to glare at you, mumbling something you didn’t understand and assumed was norwegian.
“here.” finally, a word, but you jumped with the force she slammed the paper down onto the desk with.
“no, this is not it.” you scanned the first few sentences and shook your head. “well you have read it? why do you need it then?” the girl questioned bluntly and you were most taken aback by what was easily the longest sentence you’d heard leave her mouth.
“so we can answer these, because you will need quotes for these first three.” you managed to get out with a hardened jaw, flaring your nostrils as the brunette snatched the paper back and shoved it into her bag.
“solstråle. do you have the paper?” you asked firmly when a minute went by and she made no other move. once more, a muted shrug, and then you realised something you might have been overlooking.
“can you not read this? the spanish?” you asked a little more bluntly than intended, tired from a long day and what felt like a pointless exercise in patience, but it would seem you’d struck a nerve you hadn’t meant to with the taller girl none the less.
“i can read spanish. i do not know what mapi told you but are you supposed to be helping me? because all you are doing is asking stupid questions. it has been thirty minutes and we have done nothing, this is a waste of time!” the norwegian scoffed as you stopped, sizing her up with narrowed eyes.
“well you were late so i was already here for fifteen minutes doing nothing anyway, and i have been asking questions so i know what to help you with! but all i get is-” you pulled a face and aggressively shrugged your shoulders a few times clearly mocking the taller girl who gave you a glare.
“alexia’s super little sister, everyone says you are so smart. can you not see i do not want your help? you want to be a doctor no? so go find someone who does!” solstråle grunted and now you were the one to scoff, pushing your chair back and shooting to your feet, rounding the table and collecting your things.
“eres un maldito idiota!” you spat, your temper well and truly unleashed now as all of your work to minimise the frustrations with the sullen girl across from you melted to nothing as your head was boiling.
“snobbete kjerring.” came the reply she knew you wouldn’t understand, your things all shoved into your bag now as you muttered angry rapid spanish under your breath, having reached the end of your rope you didn’t care if she understood you or not.
“you know i did this as a favour tonta. i have worked all day, i came right here after my shift on time. i have my own studies to do too because yes i want to be a nurse. i am smart and i know what i want to do with my life. maybe if you get your head out of your own ass engen, you might too! and you are right this is a waste of time, my time!” and with that you stormed out of the room, beelining for the bus stop and cursing every foul word you knew under the sun toward the girl you’d left behind.
~
if nobody knew you were in a mood from the way you ignored the family group chat trying to make weekend plans about alexia’s game and a barbeque and left everyone on read, it became glaringly obvious with the way the front door slammed after you as you stomped inside, alba glancing up from her phone as you dropped your bag on the table.
you threw open the refrigerator still muttering angrily under your breath and ignoring her greeting toward you, grabbing out a punnet of strawberries and swinging it harshly closed again.
then without a word you snatched the unopened can of lemonade your sister had in her hand, flopping yourself down on the couch with a huff and another quiet angry grumble, angrily shoving a strawberry in your mouth with a scowl.
alba whistling under her breath spun around on the stool she was sat on, knowing you’d come from your study session and your current tense mood coupled with the fact you were home an hour earlier than expected was all she needed to know it clearly hadn’t gone well.
“lo que pasó?” she appeared in front of you, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as you took an aggressive sip of lemonade and shook your head.
“no quiero hablar de ello.” you grumbled, not looking at her and instead flicking through the recordings trying to find the latest episode of your favourite reality tv dating show.
“bien.” alba shrugged, taking a seat beside you and counting down in her head as you continued to button mash the poor remote in your hand. three, two, one…
“dios mío solstråle is such an asshole! first she was late without a reason or an apology, then she ignored me and refused to speak, then she would not tell me what the problem she wanted to study was? then all she did was-” once again you aggressively shrugged your shoulders up and down as your sister hid a smile behind her hand, the older girl for once not wanting to wind you up any further and knowing you needed to let this out as you rambled on and on.
“-she belongs in your class, your niños are smarter than she is at least they know how to speak and listen at the same time! imbécil estúpida. i am not doing that again! alexia can…well she can take a hike!” you decided with a snarl, alba now unable to hide the belt of laughter which left her mouth as you shot her a mean glare.
“where did you learn that saying? take a hike? qué significa eso?” your sister laughed as you rolled your eyes.
“one of your american rom coms?” alba mocked making quotations with her finger as you scowled and shoved her, admittedly having quite the fascination for seemingly silly english speaking love movies which was how you’d gotten much better at speaking and understanding it in the first place.
“do you want some advice hermanita?” alba asked after a few moments of tense silence as you shrugged, a slight snicker leaving your sisters mouth as you clocked the gesture would seem slightly hypocritical given your previous rant.
“no? vale! good luck saying no to ale after you stole half her closet diablillo.” alba held her hands up and walked away leaving you to stew in your anger a little while longer.
though as you sat and thought and stewed, you realised some advice would not go to waste and of all people alba would probably be the most qualified to provide it.
so with a huff you stood to your feet, alba already hearing your footsteps head toward where she was sat out on the back deck soaking up the last few hours of sun before the door slid open and she glanced up.
“advise me por favor.” you sat down beside her and gestured for her to speak as your sister snatched the lemonade from your hand and took a mouthful, placing the can down out of reach and turning to face you properly.
“have you thought about how this feels for solstråle?” alba questioned at first though you could tell from her tone it was rhetorical and didn’t beg an answer.
“she is in a new country, learning a new language, at a new school, where everyone else is years and years and years ahead. then you come along when you are born here, you speak the language, you have finished school. you find things easy, but solstråle will not and maybe she also does not know what she actually needs help with fresa, only that she is struggling.” alba continued as you slowly nodded to show you were listening.
“now imagine if you had to move to norway, you had to learn norwegian but learn it mostly it in english, when spanish is your native language, and all from a girl who you don’t know with a weird accent who thinks she knows everything. then the entire plan is not even your idea but something you feel you need to do because your hermana suggested you need it, so you already go into it thinking your hermana thinks you cannot do it yourself.” alba spoke slowly as again you nodded, feeling your anger slowly melt away as the cogs of your brain ticked over.
“i do not think i know everything.” you grumbled with a huff, fixed with a look of disbelief as you rolled your eyes, maybe you could come across as a know it all sometimes. “you have a god complex fresita and it is alexia’s fault for always telling you that you are perfect.” alba quipped with a snort, silencing you with a raised eyebrow before she continued
“then this girl with a weird accent asks you lots of questions about norwegian but she asks you in english, that you probably do not know the answer to, and she has a short temper, a hot head, not much patience, and gives up after one time when she is not even trying her best. would you not be maybe a little bit frustrated? confused? embarrassed?” alba questioned again and now you knew she expected an answer as your body seemed to sag.
“sí, sería difícil, then i called her an idiota and just stormed off!” you exhaled heavily, things suddenly now a little more in perspective as you dragged your hands down your face. “está bien tonta, not everyone is built for teaching, especially not hot heads.” alba chuckled patting your knee as you peeked out from behind your hands giving her a look of annoyance.
“is there some advice coming soon puta?” “did you not hear what i just said about patience?”
“espere, mapi is calling me.” you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, still on silent after the work day as you fished it out and clicked accept.
“hola mapi, i do not know what-” you started completely ready for the spaniard to start yelling at you but you were surprised at what followed next.
“fresa have you seen solstråle? her location cut off, she was supposed to already be home and she is not answering her phone. did you see her leave? did she drive?” mapi asked in a tone more serious than you think you’d ever heard, the edge of worry to her voice obvious as you frowned.
“no we finished up early, i did not see her leave i took the bus home about…two hours ago?” you tried to guess, mapi thanking you bluntly and hanging up before you could even say another word.
you tried to brush it off, as a teenager yourself you often made excuses not to have to come home on time, and if you weren’t so scared about driving and had your license you were certain the freedom of a car would be tempting.
but as alba began to try and lay out how you would be better to tackle your next session, you couldn’t shake the weird pin prick of something sitting at the back of your head about the stony norwegian, and just maybe you were a little concerned about if she was okay, and that if god forbid something had happened, was it partially your fault?
~
"fresa valentina putellas segura!" you looked up from your phone and exhaled heavily, wincing at the use of your full name and glaring over your shoulder toward elena who shrugged and sent you a knowing smile, busy on a phone call as you heard the car door close.
"i could have gotten a lift home with elena mami." you mumbled, groaning as another car door shut and both your sisters scrambled out of the car, clearly bickering over something as they pushed and shoved one another in their haste to get over to where you were sat.
"elena is who called me! i had to find out from her that you were at the hospital? hablas en serio?" your mami huffed, smacking the back of your head as you pulled a face and rubbed it with a scowl.
"we should go and yell at the nurses for not calling you sooner mami, she is a baby!" alexia chimed in as she and alba arrived and you closed your eyes and sighed again, looking up to the sky as your face was warmed with sunshine, trying to drown out the three lectures which washed over you from the women stood fussing around you.
"we are not at the hospital, it is a medical centre and i am almost eighteen. once you are over sixteen you can make your own medical decisions, and i am fine." you reminded with another sigh, hearing footsteps and cracking an eye open to watch your mami march away from the bench you were sat on to go and talk to elena who was now off the phone.
"you are still a baby. venga alba, get her crutches." your eldest sister ordered as you sat up properly, sharply smacking the girls hands away as she hissed and narrowed her eyes at you in a glare.
"i can get them myself! i can walk without them but they would not let me leave unless i took them, la doctora era tan dramática." you grumbled in annoyance, only having mildly sprained your ankle and insistent that everyone was over reacting from the moment you fell.
it had been a harmless accident, however it had looked a lot worse than it was.
you'd just finished taking an elderly gentlemens vitals after you'd already collected his blood, the vials labelled and stored properly out back you'd been on your way back to the room to advise the gentlemen could leave, but you'd not been paying attention to the floor.
the clinic currently had a student on for work placement week, a meek and quiet fifteen year old boy who looked terrified anytime someone spoke to him, and with the way he went pale at the sight of blood it had you all wondering just who at his school he'd wronged to end up on placement here of all places.
it would seem he'd somehow dropped and smashed a few vials of someones blood after being asked to carry them back to the storeroom, and while he was busy stumbling through apologies to the nurse he was assigned to shadow for the day, elena, he'd not made any sort of effort to clean up.
so without a warning sign of any kind at least you hadn't looked down to see what you were hurrying toward and before you could blink you'd slipped over with a loud thump and you were covered in someone else’s blood.
of course without knowing the context of what happened the moment your coworkers appeared there had been all sorts of chaos that followed, everyone checking you for wounds and cuts as patients were hurried back into the collection rooms and nobody listened to the student trying to stammer out what had actually happened.
none the less you'd managed to land awkwardly on your ankle and not able to put much pressure on it your boss mateo had insisted you go get it x-rayed to rule it out of being anything serious, shutting down your protests with a firm look and ordering elena to drive you.
so thankfully with spare scrubs always handy you'd been able to change, not able to think of much worse than sitting at the medical centre covered in blood and the looks that would attract when you explained the issue was only your ankle.
you'd managed to charm your way out of anyone at work calling your mami, assuring she would be busy at her own job with her phone in her locker, and you'd just call one of your sisters once you knew what was wrong not wanting to panic anyone without a need.
however elena knowing you all too well knew you'd try to keep this to yourself and as you were being x-rayed it seemed she had slyly called eli to inform her of what had happened. which of course in your family may as well have been a bat signal for everyone to panic and over-react, exactly what you'd wanted to avoid in the first place.
"put your arms around my neck pequeña." alexia instructed as you gave her a look of disbelief. "alexia. eres sordo? i said i can walk myself!" you huffed, trying to stand up as alba pushed you back down onto the bench, snatching your crutches and she was off toward the car.
"cuídate chica, i will let mateo know what happened and i am sure he will give you the rest of the week off to recover. after all we have the student to help out!" elena appeared and squeezed your shoulder, grinning at the glare you gave her as she winked and hurried away to her own car before you could say a word, eli calling out another thank you as she did.
"and you will be taking the time off fresa." your mami’s gaze shifted to you and warned sharply as you groaned, already over all of the fussing yet you knew it had barely begun.
"estoy bien! i can work in reception and sit at the front desk, do admin and stay off my ankle and-" you tried to argue, falling silent at the fierce looks sent your way both by eli and alexia, crossing your arms and scowling.
"sí, me tomaré tiempo libre." you begrudgingly agreed with a sigh, eli nodding happily before she hurried off into the medical centre ignoring your yells after her that you already had everything you needed.
"derecha hermanita, arms around my neck." alexia repeated herself expectantly as she leaned down a little closer and once more you scoffed. "i can walk! aléjate de mí." you growled, trying to stand and grunting as again you were pushed back down.
"alexia!" "you are not walking to the car." "vale, i will sleep on this bench then." you puffed out stubbornly with a shake of your head.
"deja de ser idiota! you can put your arms around my neck and i will carry you, or i will pick you up over my shoulder como un bebé pequeño." your sister threatened seriously and judging by the look on her face you knew she was far from joking.
so mumbling about how embarrassing this was you did as she requested, knowing the alternative was worse, alexias arms wrapping around you as you were picked up and off the bench, were grateful there weren't many people around to see this as your sister carried you fireman style to the car.
"esto es ridículo." you muttered bitterly, alexia going as far as to do your seat belt up for you as alba sat in the front and your mami reappeared, a copy of your x-ray and some other papers in hand as alexia sat in the passenger seat fussing over you and you squeezed your eyes closed.
this was going to be far more painful than your ankle was.
~
"por el amor de dios it is a sprain! a mild sprain! not a break, or a fracture, or a-" but your protests fell on deaf ears as alexia lowered you down onto the sofa and ignored you, chattering away to alba about everything they assumed you needed.
you’d already had to fight them off not to shower and dress you like a child when you’d returned home, both girls settling for hovering right outside the bathroom door like guard dogs.
with eli’s help you utilised the shower chair she’d refused to touch throughout her own recovery to take the pressure off your ankle, sighing in relief as you’d washed the days events off of you.
"elevate and ice!" your mami called out from the kitchen where she was already prepping things for lunch, alba tossing alexia an ice pack, a tea towel already slung over your eldest sisters shoulder as your jaw clenched.
you hissed as alexia grabbed your ankle, lifting your leg to slide a pillow beneath and giving you a look. "mild?" she scoffed as you glared and grumbled something under your breath about how even mild sprains hurt when someones nails dig into them.
"mild, read the papers tonta! mami has about four copies." you muttered with a roll of your eyes, wincing as alexia wrapped a tea towel around your ankle to secure the ice pack to it, apologising quietly as she adjusted your ankle to sit comfortably on the pillow it was propped on.
“this is like when diablillo broke her toe.” alba chuckled at the memory, alexia trying to hide a wince as your eyes locked in on her and narrowed into a glare. “and whose fault was that?”
eli had been enjoying a couple of hours of peace, alba not yet home from school, alexia at training and a much younger you dead asleep in bed after a psychology appointment, pulled out of school at lunch time to attend.
to try and take your mind off of the contents of the appointment, which given you were five years old and learning what grief was in the wake of your papi’s passing were always emotionally taxing, eli had taken you grocery shopping.
big mistake.
you’d always been a very confident, outgoing and sure of yourself child, having to be in order to keep up with your big loud family and especially your strong willed sisters. so it was no surprise that the moment eli pulled out her list you were taking it off of her and charging away.
but you weren’t good at following the list so nearly every second thing you tossed into the cart, your mami took out and put back, sighing at your protests and attempts to rationalise the purchase, list taken out of your possession and an agreement made if you wouldn’t sit in the cart you had to have a hand on it at all times.
but the other part of that agreement, granted you stuck to it which was becoming increasingly hard given everything you wanted was just out of reach with how eli strategically parked the cart in each aisle, was that at the end of it you could choose something as a reward.
your mami already knew what your choice would be so it was no surprise when finally as everything was ticked off the list and you were given the green light you raced right to the produce section, eli lifting you up onto her hip so you could properly survey the punnets and punnets of strawberries in front of you.
however when almost twenty minutes later when you still hadn’t made a choice your mami was starting to lose patience, gently trying to hurry you along as she watched you carefully survey each and every strawberry with narrowed eyes.
finally, one was chosen, and it had seemed the grocery trip coupled with your appointment earlier in the afternoon had wiped you out, falling asleep in the car on the way home as your mami slowly woke you, hand in hers and leading you to your bedroom where you crashed out right on top of the covers, red tightly in hand.
but now a couple of hours later it seemed eli’s peace was about to end as alba came tearing in the door, chattering away on her phone and your mami’s eyes rolled watching her once neatly organised kitchen become anything but as your hormone filled teenage sister piled a plate high with some post school fuel.
alexia was next, flying through the door and bringing jenni with her of course, their chattering filling the house as alba spoke louder in return on the phone, retreating to her room with a slam of her door as the noise jolted you awake.
your mami shook her head, watching your sister and her girlfriend rummage through the refrigerator just as alba had done moments ago, the once fully stocked shelves already beginning to clear out in just a matter of a few minutes.
everyone greeting eli the woman was grateful she was still able to sit and read her book, both your sisters old enough not to need her attention the way you did, but moving to the living room and with her head buried in literature she missed alexia grab out your specially selected strawberries.
however it was the very first thing you noticed as you tiredly padded into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes and blinking to try and clear them of sleep, jenni noticing you first with a grin and bending down to open her arms for a hug. you were more than ready to wander into them however before you could take another step alexia bit into a strawberry and you gasped, suddenly wide awake.
“ale those are mine! volver a ponerlos!” you demanded angrily, stomping on over as your sister chuckled and shook her head, jenni standing again with a defeated sigh that you’d rejected her hug.
“you do not own all the fresones in this house monstruito.” alexia grinned, biting into another one just to wind you up as you huffed and glared up at her, she was always at her most annoying after she’d trained and was full of endorphins as your mami tried to explain to you.
“i own those! they are mine i bought them today at the market with mami!” you tried to explain, attempting to climb up onto the counter to grab them but your little feet wouldn’t grip onto the stone walls of the counter as you watched on uselessly as now jenni took a bite.
“oh do you want one?” alexia smirked, one hand pressed to your forehead holding you off as she held a strawberry down to you but just out of reach, grinning as you reached for it with frustrated little grunts.
alexia nodded for jenni to tip out the rest of the punnet into a small bowl on the counter, grabbing the seemingly empty container they’d once been in and letting you go, putting what appeared to be the last strawberry into her mouth with a content sigh.
“aquí monstruito.” your sister handed you the empty container as your jaw dropped and you looked up at her in disbelief, a smug smile on the older girls face as jenni nudged her in the back that maybe this was taking the teasing a little too far.
letting out a war cry you charged at her but alexia already anticipated the attack, easily holding you off again with a hand covering your face, words muffled against her palm as your arms swung trying to connect with any part of her body.
but when that didn’t work you resorted to plan b, winding your leg up and kicking at her as hard as you could, your foot bouncing off of her bare shin and you felt something crack, stopping your movement all together as alexia’s grin was wiped away watching your face pale.
“hey hey hey hermanita-” but right as she squatted down to try and check in you let out a blood curdling scream, falling to the ground and holding your foot as suddenly the kitchen was full of people, everyone fussing over you as you pushed both of your sisters away, only accepting eli’s arms which scooped you up and sat you on the counter.
“no! te odio!” you screamed at alexia who tried to move in to hug you, the eighteen year old flinching away as if she’d been burned, alba moving in instead as you pushed your face into her stomach and gripped her school shirt in your hands as eli ever so gently moved your leg, dodging the way it kicked out in reflex.
“oh mi nena, i think you might have broken your big toe.”
safe to say your sisters both learned a very valuable lesson about how far to take things when pushing you around and teasing you that day, alexia especially.
"do you not have anything else better to do than fuss and annoy me capitana?" you grumbled sarcastically, eyes rolling yet again as your sister fluffed and prepped the cushions behind your back now, karate chopping them making you snicker with slight amusement at the concentration on her face as she did so.
"tiene razón mija, look at the time you should go, you have that meeting!" eli called out in agreement as alexia hummed. "and don't you have niños to dumb down?" you leaned back and looked up at your middle sister who was stood behind the couches, a brush and tie in hand as she grabbed your hair and started to scrape it up into a bun despite the fact your arms were fine and you could easily do it yourself.
"alba!" you yelped as the flat side of the brush smacked against your forehead. "don't hit her puta she's hurt!" alexia reached over and shoved the younger girl who rolled her eyes and tilted your head back to kiss your forehead in a silent apology as you made an indignant huff and jerked away from her.
"student free day." alexia explained on alba's behalf, seemingly satisfied with how she'd smacked and poked the cushions into order behind you, and you had to admit you were quite comfortable.
"if you need anything you tell mami or alba, do not get up!" your sister warned sternly, giving you the firm captains look you knew struck fear into her teammates but did nothing much for you as you raised your eyebrows in acknowledgement.
"fresa valentina-" "bien i will not move! váyase and stop with the middle name." you groaned shooing your hands for her to leave. "te quiero, do not do anything stupid!" she warned shoving your head to the side as you mocked her under your breath.
"more like anything else stupid." alba chimed in from the kitchen, your middle finger popping up at her as your mami clicked her tongue in disapproval.
"what?" you sighed as still alexia stayed standing in front of you expectantly. "i am not saying it back." you turned on the tv with a shrug, browsing for what to watch as your sister huffed and finally moved out of the way.
overhearing alexia tell eli that she and olga would be back for dinner you groaned, knowing everyone would be fussing over you despite the fact you were fine.
“can olga come and you stay home? your home.” you suggested, your mami clicking her tongue again with a huff as now alexia flipped you off making you grin and return the gesture.
“dibujar!” alba cried out as she joined in, now all three of you using both your hands to flip one another off with matching grins as eli sighed, having flashbacks to when you were all much younger.
“basta de esto! I raised you three better than this.” your mami smacked a wooden spoon against the counter as all three of you flinched at the memories which came with the sound and immediately dropped your hands as the shorter women nodded, quite pleased that still worked as alexia yelled another goodbye and finally made her way out.
~
“elena you are not taking me to my bedroom, i’m fine.” you huffed a couple days later, your sisters and mami both having been hovering relentlessly all week which was more than starting to grate on you, not even allowed to go and have some peace and quiet in your own room, banished to the sofa like a prisoner all day everyday where someone could have eyes on you at all times.
you knew your mami was perhaps getting the most from this, and though she would never admit it you could tell that after so long of her being the one who was being fussed over and watched like a hawk it was both a relief and a joy for that attention to be diverted elsewhere.
a bonus that it so happened to be you, the one who was perhaps most guilty of fussing over her since she left hospital given you were the last of your sisters still living at home.
“let me just help you walk there, since you refuse to use the crutches.” elena rolled her eyes, nodding at the crutches in her hand which indeed you’d not touched, insistent that you could walk albeit with a small limp.
it had taken a lot of begging and pleading but with it being one of your friends birthdays you’d been invited out to dinner with them, eli eventually agreeing you could go so long as you promised to let her know when you were on your way back.
you’d done that, sending her a text message as you left the restaurant with elena, but when you hadn’t heard back and given it was nearly eleven thirty at night, you assumed she’d likely fallen asleep.
“because I do not need them, and I do not need help!” you huffed, elena giving up with a sigh and carefully placing your crutches just inside by the front door, hugging you goodbye with a teasing donkey noise, everyone having teased you were ‘stubborn as an ass’ all night as you bit back a smile and gave her a sarcastic wave goodbye.
closing the door after her you exhaled in relief as with your mami seemingly asleep and your sisters at their own homes you finally had a moment of peace to yourself without someone asking if you needed anything, fixing a cushion, getting more ice, checking the swelling.
but still, despite the peace nature called and with a sigh you started to hobble your way to the bathroom, the swelling having gone down but the ankle itself still quite tender despite the fact it could bare a lot more weight now.
your eyes flickered momentarily toward the crutches sitting abandoned just an arms length away, knowing really you should use them as it would make this whole process a lot faster. however your friends weren’t wrong you were stubborn, and determined to prove even just to yourself that this was only a mild sprain and you were getting better you began an arduous journey toward the bathroom.
you were doing okay at first, grabbing onto things and allowing your body to lean on your dominant foot, able to get all the way to the bathroom all on your own, sitting down on the toilet with a relieved exhale.
but it was getting up that suddenly the situation drastically changed.
when you’d showered earlier you’d left your wet towel on the ground, nothing unusual as given it was only you and eli living here now and she had her own bathroom there was no one to complain about it.
however too focused on hobbling over to the sink you’d failed to notice, and if anything this whole week had just been one huge life lesson to learn to look down a little more often, and with a blink you felt yourself slip, head hitting the ground and back thumping against the tile floor.
but all you were focused on was the way you felt your ankle go snap, pain shooting up your leg as if it was on fire as you groaned loudly, trying to sit up but grunting and collapsing back to the ground.
“mami? mami? mami!” you tried to yell out through gritted teeth, calling out a few more times and groaning as the pain worsened and the room began to spin a little. feeling something digging into your hip you managed to pull your phone out with a hiss, yelling out again for eli but not hearing anything.
so knowing really there wasn’t anything else you could do you clicked on the contact for the one person you thought might answer if you called.
your heartbeat sounding in your ears and vision a little blurred you hesitated, flashbacks of all the calls you’d made to her where she hadn’t answered, stomach churning with a mix of nausea, worry and rejection, questioning if maybe you were wrong and she wouldn’t answer, leaving you alone again.
but eventually the pain won out and you clicked call, sighing with a grimace as the dial tone sounded once, twice, three times, four times and-
“hola? pequeña? estás bien?” “ale? por favour por favor i need help, hermana i need you!”
#woso x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas x reader#🍓☀️#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso blurbs
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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.
PART III
Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)
Chapters: Part I / Part II / Final.
Synopsis: After a mishap on his part, you doubt that Chan is ready for a relationship but he is determined to prove it, except that he's having problems following your one condition. (17k words)
Author's note: Sorry for the late post. Hope you like the new chapter and don't forget to share your thoughts on it x
Chan has always been the type to run when conversations gets hard, when the truth is too heavy to carry. But not today.
Today, he is standing still, facing it head-on. His hand hovers over the wood, hesitating for only a second before he knocks again, his heart is beating out of his chest.
The second knock seems to last forever, but then, the door creaks open and youu stand there, looking at him with an expression that made it clear you aren’t surprised to see him.
Chan feels a lump forming in his throat—he was expecting more. Maybe shock, or even anger. But what he gets is quiet resignation, and that hurt more than he thought it would.
“Can we talk?” His voice comes out softer than he intended, laced with the weight of what he needed to say. His eyes searched yours for any sign of what you're feeling, but you are calm, too calm.
For a moment, you consider his request, eyes narrowing slightly before you step aside to let him in.
Chan exhales a breath he hasn’t realized he is holding and steps past the threshold. The apartment feels familiar, yet foreign—last night’s tension still lingering in the air like a ghost. He can feel the weight of his own mistake pressing down on his shoulders as he moved toward the living room.
You followed behind him, closing the door with a soft click before turning to face him, waiting for him to speak.
Chan runs a hand through his hair, his nerves making him fidget more than usual. He isn’t used to this—staying when things got hard. But here he is, about to dive headfirst into the conversation he would have normally avoided.
“I’m sorry,” he begins in the best way there is: with an apology
“About last night. I know it looked bad,” he winces as the whole incident flashes through his eyes.
Your expression remained unreadable, and that only made his stomach twist. He pauses, carefully find the right words to say next.
“I sent that text before you came over,” he admits, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It was stupid, I know. I was angry... knowing you went on that date. I acted out of impulse, and I didn’t even think she’d show up. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d come.”
You cross your arms in front of you, your silence heavy with expectation and he knows you are waiting for more.
“I messed up,” he continues, the next best thing to do is acknowledging his mistake.
“It’s my fault. I should’ve never sent that text, and I’m so sorry for how things turned out,” he continues, his voice tinted with regret.
Chan’s chest aches with the weight of the confession. He is baring it all, and the fear of rejection, of messing this up even more, is creeping up on him. He takes a step closer, his gaze softening as he looks at you.
“I just... I didn’t want to lose you. And when I saw you with someone else, it hurt. More than I expected it to,” He painfully admits, then he stops talking and waiting for you to respond.
For what feels like an eternity, the silence hangs between you and him like a barrier. Finally, you sigh, dropping your arms to your sides.
“I know it wasn’t great timing,” you begin, your voice calm but firm. “And I know you didn’t mean for things to go the way they did, but Chris... this isn’t just about last night.”
Chan blinks his eyes repeatedly, surprised, “What do you mean?”
You turn to lean against the back of the sofa, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About how fast all of this has been moving, and maybe... maybe I moved on too quickly from my last relationship.”
Then you look away as if searching for the right words, “Maybe we both aren’t ready for this.”
The idea of losing you now, after everything, is unbearable. His heart is sinking but he sees the doubt in your eyes, the walls you are building to protect yourself. And yet, he couldn’t walk away from this—not when he is feeling things he hasn’t felt in a long time.
“I know I’m not perfect,” he says, taking another step closer, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know I’ve made mistakes. But what I feel for you... it’s real. And it’s different from anything I’ve felt in a long time.”
Your eyes flicking up to meet his, and for the first time, he sees something soften in your expression. He presses on, sensing that this is his only chance to convince you.
“I’m not the guy I used to be,” he continues, his voice growing more confident. “Yeah, I’ve had my moments, and yeah, I’ve been a fuckboy. But that’s not who I want to be with you. I want this to work. I want us to work.”
The vulnerability in his voice hit you harder than you expected. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the raw honesty in his words. And despite all the doubts and fears swirling in your mind, there is something about the way he is standing here, owning up to his mistakes, that makes you want to believe him.
“I don’t want another heartbreak, Chris,” you openly share, “The last thing I need is to go through that again.”
He nods, fully understanding the weight of your words but it only encourages him to convince you more, “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here because I care about you. More than I can put into words.”
For a moment, neither of you say anything. The room feels thick with emotion, but there is also something else—a glimmer of hope. Something worth fighting for.
You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. But all you see is sincerity, and that is enough to make you consider his plea.
“Okay,” you finally whisper, “Let’s give it a shot.”
Chan’s face lights up with a warm smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your decision. But the joy in his expression doesn’t last long as you look at him seriously, your gaze sharp.
“In one condition,” you add.
His smile falters, and a flicker of panic replaces it. “W-What condition?”
“There’ll be no sex,” you say plainly, your voice calm and firm.
“No–no sex?” He stammers, looking at you like you’ve just told him he’s not allowed to breathe. His eyes widen, his mind scrambling to process what you’ve just said.
You nod, your expression unwavering. “I don’t want you to confuse this— physical attraction with emotional connection... Sex will only distract us from our goal.”
Chan’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s going to protest, but no words come out. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he tries to gather his thoughts.
After a moment, he nods, though his expression is one of disbelief. “Okay... okay, no sex.” His voice is strained, but he’s doing his best to sound agreeable.
But then, something flickers in his eyes, and a small hope sneaks back in.
“Just sex, right?” He asks for clarification, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. “I’m still allowed to kiss you...?”
Your eyes narrow slightly, and a sly smile spreads across your lips. “I’m afraid not.”
His face falls, the hope vanishing in an instant. “Not at all?” He asks, his voice horrified.
“At all,” you confirm, your tone playful but firm.
He stares at you, his expression a mix of shock and despair. “You’re serious?” He mutters, more to himself than to you.
You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as if you’ve just remembered something else. “Oh, and that includes no more barging into my place.”
Chan blinks, still processing the former information when your next statement hits him like a second wave.
“I know you’ve been keeping my spare keys," you say with your eyes narrowed at him, "I want them back.”
He closes his eyes, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as if he’s in the middle of a nightmare he desperately wants to wake up from. But when his eyes open, nothing has changed. You’re still standing there, waiting for him to comply.
“Come on,” you say, nudging his arm gently, “give them back.”
With a deep, reluctant sigh, Chan reaches into his jeans pocket, his movements slow, as if giving up the keys is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He pulls them out and holds them in his hand for a moment before finally passing them over to you.
“Thank you,” you say sweetly, taking the keys from him.
He watches you with a defeated look on his face, his shoulders slumping as you put the keys away. His lips press into a tight line, clearly still processing the fact that not only has he agreed to no sex, but now he doesn’t even have access to your place anymore.
Chan sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is going to be harder than I thought."
You catch his thoughtful expression and smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. “Well, you can just quit now,” you tease, the words light but with a hint of challenge.
His eyes snap to yours, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Oh, just wait and see,” he replies, his voice low, but there’s a spark of determination behind it.
The teasing grin lingers on your lips, but Chan’s heart is set. This isn’t just about sticking to your rules—it’s about showing you, through his actions, that he’s no longer the guy who flirts and leaves when things get complicated. He’s here, and he’s staying.
You chuckle softly, shaking your head as if amused by his newfound resolve. “We’ll see.”
"You will," he boldly remarks, his voice steady, and there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. It’s not just a flirty remark or an empty promise. It’s real.
This time, it’s different. He’s different. And he’s going to show you that he’s ready to be the person you deserve.
-
When Chan thinks about it again, you’re not asking for much beyond that one condition—but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. It’s not just about avoiding physical intimacy; it’s about proving himself. He’s not the guy who plays games or casually dates for fun anymore. He’s not that fuckboy. He’s changed, and he’s ready for something real, something meaningful.
However, words are just words until he acts on them.
That’s why Chan waits in the lobby around the time you usually get home from work. To pass the time, he chats with the new guy working the concierge, trying to distract himself from the nervous energy building up.
The second you step into his radar, he can almost sense it. He turns his head toward the entrance, and there you are—pushing through the apartment door with a bag slung over one shoulder and another in hand.
Without missing a beat, Chan rushes toward you, grabbing the bag from your hand. “Great day at work, darling?” he asks with a cheeky grin.
You let out a low scoff, eyeing him skeptically. “And you’re still doing your best at work, huh?”
“Well, I aim to please,” he playfully responds, giving you a wink.
Before you can protest, he takes your bag to the concierge and talks to the new guy to keep it safe, leaving you standing there, eyebrows raised.
“Why... what are you doing with my bag?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.
“He’ll be keeping it safe,” he simply replies, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “While I’m taking you out for dinner.”
Before you can get another word in, he takes your hand, pulling you with him as he drags you right back out the door. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
It’s clear: Chan’s not just saying things this time—he’s showing you.
The restaurant he is taking you for dinner is only two blocks away from your apartment building, and it surprises you that you didn’t know about it until now.
“How come I didn’t know about this place before?” you ask in wonder, chewing on your food.
Chan clasps his hands together in front of him and props them under his chin, “Maybe if you were being a lovely neighbor from the start, I would’ve taken you here sooner,” he teases.
You narrow your eyes and take a jab back at him, “And maybe if you weren’t busy taking girls home and avoiding them in the morning, you would’ve taken me here sooner.”
Chan sighs in defeat, putting his hands off the table, deciding to let the conversation slide. “But you agree that you like the food, right?”
You shovel another spoonful of food into your mouth and nod in approval, "Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.
Spotting something on the corner of your mouth, he grabs a napkin and, with a soft touch, dabs it away. You look at him, raising an eyebrow.
“You had something on your face. Was I just supposed to leave it there?” he defends with his grin.
You take the napkin from him and finish the job yourself. “You know, you don’t have to try this hard,” you say.
It's not a surprise that you would think that way, that he’s overcompensating, but he's doing it all because he genuinely cares for you.
“What? I’m just taking my lovely neighbor to one of my favorite spots nearby,” he says with his signature dimpled grin.
Shaking your head, you sip your drink, unsure how to respond. Before you can think of anything, he changes the subject.
“So, what are we doing this weekend?” he asks, as if it’s a given that you’re spending it together.
“Bold of you to assume I have nothing to do this weekend,” you say.
“Well, if you do have something to do, I can only hope it’s me,” he says with a wink.
You groan and toss a crumpled napkin at him. “I have to work this weekend.”
His groan is louder than yours. “If you’re working weekends too, when do you have time for me?”
You shoot him a look. “As far as I know, you didn’t have a problem keeping yourself entertained before.”
Chan’s smile turns cryptic as he slumps in his seat. “True... but it would be fun to play with you.”
“You remember my one condition, right?” you remind him.
He tosses the crumpled napkin back at you. “There are so many ways to have fun without sex.”
“Sshh,” you shush him, glancing around.
“Why are you still weird about it? We’ve had sex twice al—”
You cover his mouth with your hand, glaring. “You might as well announce to the whole restaurant we’ve had sex twice!”
He pulls your hand away, grinning wide as if he’s about to do it for real, just to see the horror in your eyes. But then he bursts into laughter instead and catching you off guard by kissing your hand softly which makes you withdraw your hand immediately.
“Did you really think I would do that?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.
“For a second, yes,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips.
“You were right,” he playfully says.
When the server arrives with the bill, you get ahead of Chan, placing your credit card down before he can.
“So you’re the one paying in this relationship?” he teases. “I could get used to that.”
“Don’t,” you warn, rolling your eyes.
The server returns with your card and receipt, but she also gives Chan a familiar smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, flirtatiously and completely dismissed your presence there.
“Uh, yeah, I’ve been busy,” he replies, glancing nervously at you.
“Next time you stop by, I’ll give you a little free service,” she says, smiling a bit too much.
You’re not blind to her tone, but you keep quiet as the two of you leave the restaurant. Once you’re back at the apartment building, you retrieve your bag from the concierge, muttering your thanks as you take it. Chan offers to carry it for you as you head up in the elevator.
“You should invite that cute server to play with you this weekend,” you say, a hint of jealousy in your voice.
His smile grows, sensing you care more than you let on. He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder if he’s considering your suggestion. Even after the elevator doors open, he follows you to your apartment, still carrying your bag.
“I can take it inside for you,” he offers, clearly hoping for an invite in.
“I can take it myself,” you say, effectively blocking his plan.
He hands over the bag with a pout, lingering as you unlock your door. He leans against the doorframe, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“You’re going away for the whole weekend, and I get nothing?” he asks, inching closer.
You cross your arms. “And what do you expect?”
“A kiss would do,” he says, almost shyly, though the glint in his eyes says otherwise.
You shake your head, staying firm on your one condition. “No kisses.”
“Just a nibble then?” He grins wider.
“A nibble?” you laugh. “I’m not some... snack.”
“You’re not. You’re a whole damn feast,” he says, lowering himself to your eye level, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and not hiding his eyes from looking at them.
Your breath hitches as he inches closer, his lips brushing past your ear. His boldness catches you off guard, and your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your jaw. Then, just as he’s about to claim your lips, you block him with your fingers.
“You’re good,” you admit with a smile, “but not that good.”
For a guy who always gets what he wants when he wants it, this is frustrating. He lets out a heavy sigh then drops his head onto your shoulder.
“I have to go,” you mutter, even as you let him hold you.
“Just give me a minute,” he mumbles, nuzzling his head further into your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
He savors the moment, holding onto you a little tighter, soaking in the feel of you against him. Everything about you—your warmth, your softness, your scent— oh, it’s all so right.
“I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you whisper again, rubbing a hand along his broad back.
“Fifteen more seconds,” he mumbles, discreetly letting his hand slide lower, only for you to catch it and place it firmly on your back.
You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you wanting to let go until you finally pull away.
“Goodnight, Chris,” you say softly, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Goodnight,” he replies with a smile, slowly letting you go, though everything in him wants to hold on.
As you take a step back, he does the same, the two of you locked in a gaze to keep the intimacy of the moment continues through your eyes until you close the door with a faint smile that lingers in the back of his head.
Letting you go isn’t easy, but sometimes he knows he has to if he wants to bring you closer.
-
Chan lies awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The weekend he had envisioned was simple: hanging out with you, maybe grabbing dinner or spending lazy afternoons together. But since you weren’t around, the plan had crumbled, leaving him stranded with nothing to do.
He could go out, like he usually does on weekends, but something in him resists. It's too easy to slip back into old habits, to fall into the routine of partying and avoiding the emptiness that comes with it. So instead, he’s here, in his apartment, doing nothing.
With a sigh, he reaches across the bed, his hand brushing against the smooth fabric of something familiar—your underwear. He’d kept it from that night, the night everything between you two changed.
Lifting it to his nose, he inhales deeply, letting your scent flood his senses. Just a whiff, and he’s already lost, a fire igniting in his gut. His cock twitches, aroused, stirred by the memory of you.
Closing his eyes, he lets his mind drift back to that night—the way he had kissed you, held you close, felt your warmth pressed against him. He remembers the way his hands explored your body, how he had parted your legs and exposed you, tantalizing and perfect, making his every nerve scream for more.
"Fuck," he mutters, the word hanging heavy in the quiet of his apartment. His frustration is palpable, throbbing inside him.
The thoughts alone aren’t enough. He needs more. He needs you. But you're not here, and that only makes the ache more unbearable.
Thankfully, his phone rings, pulling him from the spiral he was sinking into. He groans and drags himself out of bed, grabbing the phone off his nightstand. The call is brief, no more than a minute, but it does the job. It snaps him out of the rut he was teetering on the edge of.
It looks like Chan has to go out tonight after all.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the text that came through. Someone had pulled out of a gig last minute, and now he’s been asked to fill in. It’s a valid reason to get out of the apartment, at least. Better than staying cooped up and letting his thoughts eat at him.
Before he knows it, he's dressed and heading out the door. The club he’s heading to isn’t unfamiliar—it’s one of his favorite spots to work. Maybe it's the crowd, or maybe it’s just because he desperately needs a distraction tonight, but it feels less like work as he steps inside and feels the pulse of the music hit him.
He takes a deep breath and dives into the scene, ready to let the night carry him wherever it leads, all while keeping you in the back of his mind.
After his set, he decides to hang around the club for a bit, rewarding himself with a drink. It’s been a good night, the crowd was lively, and he deserved a little downtime.
He leans against the counter, sipping slowly as the music thumps around him. Girls have been giving him smiles, glancing his way, but he’s used to that. It’s nothing he can’t handle, especially now when he’s keeping his focus sharp.
Then the bartender sets another drink down in front of him.
“This one’s on her,” he says, nodding toward the far corner of the bar.
Chan follows the bartender’s gaze and spots her—a girl with a sultry smile, waving at him. She’s undeniably attractive, but he’s not interested.
Still, it’s just a drink, and rejecting it feels unnecessary. So he lifts his glass, offering her a polite smile of thanks from across the bar.
Before he can even take a sip, someone else steps up to him, practically radiating anger.
“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” the guy growls, eyes dark and filled with rage.
“What?” Chan responds, confused and caught off guard.
“I said, are you flirting with my girlfriend?” The man’s voice rises, his presence looming over Chan.
“I’m not,” Chan says quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “She bought me a drink, and I thanked her. That’s all.”
But the guy isn’t having it. He steps closer, grabbing the front of Chan’s shirt with one fist. “How dare you lie to me!” he shouts, pulling Chan closer, their faces inches apart.
Before things can escalate further, the girl who started all of this rushes over, forcing herself between them.
“Stop! He’s telling the truth!” she says, tugging at her boyfriend’s arm and dragging him away from Chan.
Chan can see the regret in her eyes as she mouths, “I’m sorry,” before leading her fuming boyfriend toward the exit.
As they leave, Chan sighs, straightening his shirt and shaking his head. Maybe tonight, he should have just stayed in his apartment after all.
-
Chan arrives at his place, feeling weighed down by the events of the day. You've only been gone a day, but it feels like an eternity to him. Everything feels off without you around, stretching out every second into what feels like endless suffering.
He needs you. Desperately.
He knows it's late, and he isn’t even sure if you're home yet, but he finds himself walking toward your door. His feet move on their own, driven by an overwhelming need for comfort. When he gets there, he knocks gently at first, waiting in the quiet hallway. No response.
With a sigh, Chan leans his forehead against your door, feeling a sinking hopelessness wash over him.
“Please… open the door,” he mutters, almost to himself.
Then, to his surprise, he hears movement on the other side. He steps back quickly, his heart racing as the door creaks open, revealing you—looking slightly disoriented, your hair tousled from what must’ve been sleep.
"I'm sorry," Chan says, his voice soft with guilt. "I didn’t know you were home already."
"I just got home not long ago," you reply, your voice still thick with sleep.
Seeing you—standing there in the low light, with tired eyes and that familiar warmth—pulls at his heart in a way that makes him ache. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself before speaking again.
“I’ve had a really, really bad day,” he admits, his voice low, almost breaking.
The truth is, you’re a big part of why his day feels so unbearable. The distance between you gnaws at him, creating a physical ache he can’t shake. He needs you, even just your presence, to feel whole again.
Without thinking, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently but firmly, as if letting go would mean losing his grip on everything.
"Can I stay the night with you?" His voice is heavy with vulnerability.
You hesitate, shaking your head. "You know that we can't—"
“I swear I’m not trying to do anything else,” he cuts in quickly, his eyes pleading. "I just... I just want to be with you tonight. Please?"
The sadness in his voice is raw, and you can see how much he needs this, needs you. You massage your neck, the exhaustion of the day visible in your eyes as you consider his request.
For a moment, silence hangs between you two. Then, finally, you nod. “Okay.”
From the way you're giving in with less resistance than usual, Chan can tell you're too tired to fight him on this tonight. He feels a pang of guilt but, at the same time, relief. A win is a win, and right now, he just needs to be near you, hoping his presence might bring some comfort, as yours does to him.
Once you let him in, there's no more talking. You silently lead him to your bed, making space for him without any fuss.
"You can have that side," you gesture to the left side, your voice soft with exhaustion.
Any side would do. As long as he's here, next to you, he couldn't care less. You crawl under the covers while Chan stands there, starting to unbutton his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Your voice holds suspicion, your eyes peeking over the blankets.
He smirks, pulling the shirt off. "I told you I sleep naked."
"Naked naked?" you ask, eyebrows raising as his fingers move to his jeans.
He notices the way your eyes fixated on his body, he knows you like what you're seeing so he makes a good show out of it. He's working his jeans open in a painstakingly slow motions, stripping down to his dark boxers.
"Your expression is filthy," he jokes, "what are you thinking?"
You let out a scoff and tuck yourself into the blanket, trying so hard to not to be affected by what he just did.
Chan can't help but quietly smiling in triumphant and comes over to the bed. Climbing into bed next to you feels surreal. It's more than just sharing a space now; you're sharing your bed.
The scent of your sheets is intoxicating, subtle yet enough to make him feel like he's sinking into you even without touching. He pulls the covers over himself, careful to leave a respectful gap between you two, honoring your one condition.
He rolls onto his side, facing you, while you lay on your back, eyes closed. The darkness wraps around both of you, the room heavy with quiet and the faint smell of your perfume lingering in the air.
"What happened?" you ask, eyes still shut, your voice breaking the silence.
"What?" Chan asks, fingers barely brushing the edge of your arm, almost on instinct.
"You said you had a bad day," you repeat, softly, your voice drifting through the stillness.
He sighs, staring up at the ceiling now. "Well, I went out tonight and I tried to be... good," he starts, his voice low. "But it turned out to be not easy."
You don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, your presence alone urging him to be honest.
"I was at this club after my set, just hanging out. Someone sent me a drink, and next thing I know, this guy is in my face, accusing me of flirting with his girlfriend," he explains, his tone frustrated. "I didn’t even do anything. But... it just made me realize how easy it is for things to get messed up. One small misunderstanding, and it all spirals."
His fingers lightly brush your arm now, the contact gentle, but you don't push him away. He takes that as permission to continue.
"I don’t want to be that guy anymore—the one who gets mixed up in stuff like that," he murmurs. "I’m trying to be better... for you."
You don’t respond right away, your breathing steady, as if you’re already halfway to sleep. But your silence is enough of an answer for him. He feels calmer, just being here with you.
"He almost punched me," Chan dramatically shares to gain sympathy from you.
You chuckle softly, "So, the usual, huh?"
"The usual, yeah," he responds, grinning.
"But that's also where you're doing it wrong, Chris," you say, turning your body to face him and see his eyebrows knit in confusion.
"You're doing it for me." You say, resting your hand under your head as you clarify, "When you should be doing this for you."
That sinks in, and it hits him why everything's felt like a struggle lately. He's been trying to change because of external pressure—because of you—not because he truly wanted it for himself.
"Don’t get me wrong," you continue gently, your voice low and soothing. "I appreciate that you’re willing to change for me, but I want you to change because you want it. For yourself."
Your words, so calm and caring, open up a new perspective for him. It's not just about trying to impress or be better for you, but about becoming someone he's proud of. It all feels clearer now, and at the same time, he feels a deep sense of reassurance—he really is with the right person.
"Can we cuddle?" Chan asks, pulling his best puppy eyes to win you over.
You don’t answer verbally, but the way you open your arms for him is all the permission he needs.
Without wasting a second, he slides in closer, wrapping himself around you, his arm draped over your body as he nestles his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of your body envelops him, bringing a sense of comfort he desperately needed.
"Goodnight, Chris," you murmur, patting his head softly.
"Goodnight," he mumbles back, sneaking in a kiss on your jaw.
You let it slide this time, smiling into the darkness before closing your eyes, drifting off.
Chan, however, is still wide awake, his mind buzzing with the proximity between you two. There's only a thin layer of clothes separating your bodies, and he's doing his best to respect your boundaries, but the way your warmth radiates against him makes sleep the last thing on his mind.
Still, he takes a deep breath, doing his best to settle down, grateful for this moment of closeness with you.
-
Chan is used to waking up unsure of his surroundings, but this morning is different. He knows exactly where he is, and for once, he doesn't immediately rush off. Instead, he nestles his head closer to yours, savoring the warmth of your body pressed against his while you're still unaware that he's awake.
The sound of your alarm blaring from your phone finally breaks the silence. You groan, forcing yourself to wake up, eyes still closed as your hand fumbles around the bedside table to turn it off.
After silencing the alarm, you yawn and stretch, your body still heavy with sleep. "Ugh, I have to go to work," you mutter, tapping Chan’s forearm in a silent request for him to release you.
But instead of letting you go, he tightens his hold, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "No, stay," he mumbles, his voice low and groggy.
"Not everyone makes money from spinning records," you tease, a playful jab at his career.
"I’m not going to take that personally," he grumbles, his voice muffled as he refuses to lift his head from your neck.
You chuckle softly, your fingers naturally slipping into his curls. Gently, you start brushing them with your fingertips, feeling the texture of his hair as you absentmindedly comment, "Is this your natural hair?"
"Hmm," he hums, affirming.
"They’re a bit dry and..." You pull back slightly to take a better look, "...a little dull too."
"Mmh..." he hums again, clearly enjoying the gentle scratching of your fingers against his scalp.
"You should condition them better," you suggest, offering hair advice out of the blue.
An idea forms in Chan’s mind, and though he knows you’ll likely see right through him, he can’t resist. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, a cheeky grin forming on his lips as he asks, "Can you show me how to take care of my curls?"
The playful gleam in his eyes is unmistakable, and you can already tell what he's up to. But the question catches you off guard enough to make you laugh.
"Show you how exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as you pretend to play dumb.
Chan, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, stumbles through his words, "You know... we could, uh, get in the shower together, and you can, um, show me how to... condition my curls, or whatever…" He flashes you that dimpled grin, the one that always manages to make his adorable babbling irresistible.
You lift your head slightly, propping it up with one hand as you look at him skeptically. "You want us to shower together so I can teach you how to wash your hair?"
He nods, eyes wide with feigned innocence, fully expecting a refusal and maybe a reminder of the boundary you’ve set about physical intimacy. But instead, you surprise him by giving in.
"Okay," you simply say.
The stunned expression on his face is priceless, his eyes widening further as if he didn’t quite hear you right. "Wait, really?"
You shrug nonchalantly, "Sure. You want to learn, right?" You give him a smirk, teasing him without saying it outright, fully aware of what he's really after.
His grin grows, and for a second, he looks like he’s about to leap out of bed with excitement. "Yeah, of course," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him.
Without another word, you swing your legs out of bed, standing up and stretching a bit before heading toward the bathroom. Chan watches you, dumbfounded for a second, before scrambling to follow.
-
Nothing could have prepared Chan for this.
The moment you slip your nightdress off and pull your underwear down your legs, his brain shuts down. His eyes roam over your bare skin, every curve, every inch of you exposed, leaving nothing to the imagination.
As if that weren't enough, you gather your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, exposing your neck—a sight that only intensifies his desire. He stands there, frozen, unable to decide which part of you to look at first.
You step into the shower, and Chan steps aside, barely breathing as the water begins to cascade down your body. He watches the droplets slide over your skin, wishing desperately that he could replace the water, that he could all over you like that.
When you turn to face him, he lets out a low breath, trying to keep his composure. His gaze travels down your body, soaking in every detail, every inch that he so badly wants to touch. He grips the shower stall handle tightly, fighting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you.
Your hands slide down your body, the action as innocent as washing off yesterday's weariness, but in his mind, it's anything but innocent. You're driving him crazy, and you know it. The way you look at him, allowing him to watch you like this—it's tantalizing, almost cruel.
"Okay, first," you break the silence, your voice echoing in the small shower chamber. "We need to get your hair wet."
He almost forgot the pretense of this shower. He tears his eyes away from your body and focuses on your words, trying to remember that this was supposed to be about hair care. You take the showerhead and aim it at him, chuckling as he remains rooted to the floor.
"It's hard if you stand so far away," you tease.
He steps closer, knowing that proximity will only make things worse for him. Still, he obeys. The moment you're close enough, you bring the showerhead to his hair, gently wetting it with your fingers brushing through his curls. He's so close to you, his lips mere inches from yours. He has to fight the urge to kiss you, to taste your skin.
"Now it's wet and ready," you murmur, putting the showerhead aside and reaching for the shampoo. You work it into his scalp, massaging it in slow, circular motions.
"That feels good," Chan mutters, his voice rough with desire.
"Yeah?" you whisper, stepping even closer, your chest now grazing his. "You like that?"
"Yeah, I like that," he says, his voice strained as he struggles to keep it together.
The intense eye contact is too much for him, and though he's usually good at holding a gaze, this is different. He closes his eyes, trying to calm the heat building inside him. His body is betraying him, and the situation down there is getting harder—literally—to control.
"Okay, now we're going to wash it out," you say, grabbing the showerhead again and rinsing the shampoo from his hair.
Chan almost groans when you step away, the loss of your touch leaving him aching for more. He keeps his eyes closed as you instructed, but every brush of your fingers against his scalp, every sigh you let out, sends him spiraling.
"It's all good now," you say, smiling as you wipe a stray bit of foam from his face.
He's at ease, yet burning inside. He feels taken care of, but also teased to the brink of madness.
"What's next?" he asks, his voice hoarse.
"We're going to condition it next," you explain, turning away to get the conditioner. "Your curls need moisture, so you have to condition regularly. Or just condition without shampooing sometimes."
He nods, barely hearing your words. The proximity, the feel of your breath on his ear, is driving him wild. As you apply the conditioner, you're even closer than before, so close that he can feel your breath on his neck. He’s barely holding on.
Then you ask, casually, "Do you want me to wash your body too?"
The offer hits him like a shockwave, and for a moment, he can't speak. Blinking, he nods, his heart pounding. You take a bar of soap, lathering it up before sliding your hands over his skin. Every touch is electric, and when your hand glides over his abs, he clenches them, trying to maintain control. Your hand goes lower, tracing the path along his pelvic bone.
But then, mercifully, your hand moves away. You rub down his legs and even grab his rear, making him chuckle nervously.
"Something funny?" you ask, feigning innocence.
"Nothing," he replies, swallowing hard as he lets you continue. He’s letting you do whatever you want, helpless under your hands.
When you finish, the two of you just stand there under the warm water, the tension in the air thickening by the second. The bathroom feels smaller, the space between you more unbearable.
Chan snaps. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you flush against him, his body fitting against yours perfectly. He presses his lips against your neck, kissing the soft spot under your ear. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his dark, lust-filled gaze.
"What’s next?" he growls.
You wrap your arms around his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw until your mouth hovers near his ear.
"I'm going out of the shower," you whisper, "and I'll give you a few minutes to..." Your eyes flick downward, pointedly glancing at his hardening member. "...sort out your situation."
You kiss his cheek and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. With one last playful smile, you say, "I can't be late for work."
And just like that, you leave him standing there—wet, aroused, and utterly flabbergasted.
-
Chan’s life is different now—less chaotic, more focused. He’s found a new rhythm, avoiding old habits and temptations, reminding himself that he can be better. At work, he's polite, giving empty promises when girls ask him for drinks, knowing full well he has no intention of following through. His nights out have become rare, and if he feels that sexual urges, he'll channel that energy into working out at the gym.
Tonight, he's watching for you, keeping his apartment door open so he can see when you arrive home. The moment he hears the elevator chime, he rushes to the door and spots you stepping out, looking exhausted from work.
“Hey, neighbor,” he greets, leaning casually against the doorframe.
You give him a tired but warm smile. “Hey.”
Chan walks over, grabbing one of your bags to help lighten your load. “Come on, I cooked us dinner.”
The sight of you eating so well makes him feel proud. Every bite you take feels like a reward for the time he spent preparing the meal. When you finish your plate and look at him with a shy smile, asking for more, he grins and happily gets up, placing more fried rice on your plate.
“Thank you,” you say sincerely as he refills your glass of water before sitting back down.
“You’re very welcome,” Chan responds, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.
Dinner ends with a cold can of beer, and soon, you're both on the sofa, enjoying the comfortable silence that fills the space. Chan sits there, the question he’s been wanting to ask weighing on his mind. He takes a breath.
“Do you have plans this Saturday?” he asks casually.
“Why?” you inquire, taking a sip of water, sensing something behind the question.
“A friend asked me to play at his sister’s wedding,” he explains, his arm resting on the back of the sofa, his hand just brushing your shoulder. “and I want you to come with me.”
“As a date?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
Chan grins, trying to suppress his excitement. “As a date, yes.”
“I’d love to,” you say, but something in your tone makes him sense there’s more.
“But?” he asks, bracing for the letdown.
“I can’t. I have a guest coming over that day,” you explain apologetically.
“A guest?” His eyebrows raise in curiosity.
You nod. “Yeah, a guest.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“Colleague?”
“Nope.”
“Friends?” he asks, growing more curious with each question.
You shake your head, hesitating for a moment before finally revealing, “Ex-boyfriend.”
Chan leans back, exasperated. “So, you're not coming with me because Lee is coming over?”
“Yes,” you answer, trying to keep things simple.
He stares at you, dumbfounded. “But why?”
“Because I told him to,” you respond, trying to sound nonchalant, though you know it’s frustrating him.
“What?!” Chan looks at you in disbelief, his eyes wide.
You laugh softly at his reaction, putting your glass down and settling into the couch. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying to make this work, so, I thought maybe it’s time I do my part too.”
He’s silent, listening intently, trying to understand what you mean.
“I told Lee to come so he can take his things from my place,” you explain. “That way, I can have space for… new things.”
Chan’s pout fades into a smile as the meaning behind your words sinks in. Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently on your lap. For a moment, he can’t believe it—the two of you are really doing this. You're starting fresh, together.
“Okay,” he says softly, understanding now. “I get it.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, smiling back at him.
“I still want you to come with me, though,” he says, the hint of disappointment still lingering.
“I’m sorry,” you reply, genuinely apologetic. Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you offer, “But I can still help you with your hair if you want.”
Chan laughs, his grin returning. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Later, when he walks you to your apartment door, he dreads the moment of parting. You share a long, warm embrace, and as usual, you're the first to pull away, though you keep holding his hand for just a little longer.
“Thank you again for dinner,” you say softly.
Chan smirks, joking to lighten the mood. “If you’re really thankful, you should dream of me tonight.”
You smile, playing along. “I’ll try.”
“And I’ll try to dream of you too,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a mischievous whisper, “preferably naked.”
You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh. “Good luck with that!”
He gently caresses your face, his eyes warm as they meet yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly, then adds with a smirk, “I think we should start picking pet names.”
You shake your head, but there’s a smile on your face as you step back, ready to go. “Goodnight, Chris.”
“Goodnight… baby?” he tries, testing out the pet name.
You say nothing, just smiling at him one last time before you let go of his hand and step inside, leaving him standing there, heart fluttering, wondering when he’ll get to hold you again.
-
Chan stands in front of the mirror, buttoning up his shirt, though leaving the cuffs open for now. He can’t help but think what a shame it is—looking this good and going to the wedding without a date. You had refused his invitation, but he can’t fault you for it. There’s something good in your intentions, and all he can do is be understanding.
He’s about to grab his suit jacket when there’s a knock at the door. With a smile, he heads to open it, already knowing who it is.
There you stand, a can of hairspray in one hand and a hair straightener in the other. “It’s your hair appointment,” you announce with a grin.
Chan chuckles and motions you inside. He sits in front of the mirror while you stand behind him, carefully styling his hair. As he watches you work, he’s struck by how focused you look—creases forming between your brows, your lips slightly pursed in concentration. He never thought it was possible for someone to be both cute and sexy at the same time, but here you are, proving him wrong.
“Would that suffice?” you ask after spraying his hair one last time.
“No,” Chan says, his tone playful, “not if you’re not coming with me.”
You smile but don’t respond, busying yourself with taming the last few stray hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re done now,” you announce, satisfied with your work.
He glances at himself in the mirror and smiles. “Aren’t you going to kiss me on the cheek and tell me I look handsome?”
“I don’t remember saying that,” you tease, tidying up the clutter on the table.
Chan stands, smoothing down his shirt, but there’s one more thing to complete his look. He picks up the tie from the table and holds it out to you. “We still have a problem here.”
You glance up, understanding immediately. Without a word, you take the tie from his hands and skillfully knot it around his collar. Your fingers work quickly, and before long, the tie is secured neatly in place.
“Okay, you’re ready now,” you say with a nod.
Chan puts on his suit jacket, then spins around with his arms spread wide, showing off the full look. “How do I look?”
You step closer, and to his surprise, you plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You look handsome,” you say with a soft smile.
He stands there for a moment, warmth spreading through him from that simple gesture. It’s enough to make him feel like he’s already won, even if he’s going to the wedding alone. He places his hands gently on your waist and pulls you closer, his voice soft but persuasive.
"It's not too late to text Lee and tell him to come another day," he suggests, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reconsideration.
You chuckle lightly, looping your arms around his shoulders. "I don’t think it's wise to cancel it on the last minute," you explain, your tone gentle but firm.
He nods, accepting your decision even though it’s not the answer he wanted. At least you have a good reason, and it’s not as if you’re choosing your ex over him. But the tension lingers, and Chan pulls you even closer, savoring this tender moment before Lee shows up and disrupts his day. He knows he has no reason to be jealous, but it nags at him anyway—what if Lee has other intentions with this visit?
"Can't you just... put his things in a box and mail it to him?" He asks, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice.
You chuckle again, tilting your head slightly. "We’re grown-ups, Chris. We broke up on good terms. I don’t see why we can’t be civil after everything."
Chan tightens his grip around you, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "But what if he asks you to get back with him?"
Instead of answering, you raise an eyebrow and ask, "And you think I’d say yes?"
His grin widens, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
You shake your head, smiling. "Oh, Chris... you're ridiculous."
He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah, but I had to ask. I just don't like the idea of him coming around."
"He's just going to come, pick up his things, and leave," you explain, trying to reassure Chan that there’s no need for jealousy.
Chan takes the opportunity to pull you even closer, his arms tightening around you with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "No deep talking, no reminiscing the shared memories, okay? No smiling either," he warns, his voice full of playful intensity.
You laugh at his protectiveness, letting him rest his forehead against yours.
"I love the way you smile," he says suddenly, the words catching you off guard. "I want to tell you to do it more often, but I don't."
"Why?" you ask, curiosity piqued.
"Because you don’t give it to everyone," Chan murmurs, his lips grazing your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. "And I don’t plan on sharing you."
The possessive edge in his voice stirs something in you, and you feel yourself relax, leaning into his embrace. His fingers cup your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly as he draws closer, his gaze flicking down to your lips.
Just as he’s about to close the gap, a knock sounds—not on his door, but across the hall. You gently break away from his hold, heading to check with Chan trailing behind, a bit flustered.
"Oh, Lee, I'm sorry, I was at Chris's place," you say as you open the door and spot your ex, Lee, standing there.
"Oh hey," Lee greets you, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. A hug that, to Chan, feels way too long. Chan clears his throat loudly, making his presence known.
Lee finally lets go of you and acknowledges him. "Oh, hey, Chris," Lee says, extending his hand for a handshake.
Chan hates that Lee’s actually being nice—he's a good guy, and that makes him feel like the bad guy.
"Hey, Lee," Chan mutters, reluctantly shaking his hand.
"You look dashing. Going somewhere?" Lee asks, genuinely.
"Yeah, uh... a friend's wedding," Chan replies, his earlier hostility fading slightly.
As they exchange pleasantries, you unlock your door and gesture for Lee to come inside. "Please, come in," you say.
"Are you joining us, Chris?" Lee asks, seriously offering for him to stay.
Chan would love nothing more than to stay and keep an eye on things, but he checks the time on his phone and realizes he’s already pushing it if he doesn’t leave now. "I have to go, actually," he says, regret heavy in his voice.
"What a pity! I brought us food," Lee says to you, smiling. "It’s the baked ziti from your favorite place."
You smile awkwardly, glancing at Chan. "That’s so nice of you, Lee."
"See you next time, Chris," Lee says as he steps into your apartment.
Chan sighs, feeling torn between wanting to stay and knowing he has to leave. His chest tightens as he glances at you one last time.
"I’ll see you later, okay?" you say, smiling, though it does little to comfort him.
"Don’t smile at him!" Chan grumbles, trying to cling to his playfully jealous tone.
You laugh softly and surprise him by stepping forward, placing a quick but tender peck on his lips. The brief contact sends butterflies swirling in his stomach.
"Have fun at the wedding," you say sweetly, flashing him one last smile before closing the door.
Chan stands there for a moment, his heart racing, the taste of your lips lingering. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he turns to leave, knowing that despite everything, you’re still his.
-
Seeing that most of the guests have already left and only a few remain on the dance floor, Chan decides it’s time to wrap up his set. Grabbing the mic, he announces, "Everyone, this is the last dance."
His suit is no longer in its proper form—he ditched the jacket long ago, his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He inhales deeply, satisfied with a job well done.
As he packs up, his friend, the groom's brother, hands him a bottle of champagne as a token of gratitude. "You killed it, mate. Thanks for stepping in."
"Anytime, man," Chan says with a grin, accepting the bottle. Just as he’s about to take a sip, a voice interrupts him.
"Are you planning on sharing that?"
He turns around, surprised to see someone he least expected. "Sue?"
"Oh, I thought you forgot about me," Sue says with a teasing smile.
How could he? Sue was his first love, the one who gave him his first heartbreak. She’s older and taller than him, just like before, but Chan sees her differently now—not as the boy who once idolized her, but as a man. Yet, the admiration still lingers.
Sue chuckles and gives him a quick hug. "Of all places, we meet here?"
"I know, right?" Chan shakes his head, still bewildered. "My friend is the brother of the bride."
"And I’m one of the groom's family," Sue says, showing off the dress. "What a small world!"
They share the bottle of champagne in the garden, sitting by the pool as they catch up. The evening air is warm, and the conversation flows easily.
"Is it alright that you're here with me?" Chan asks, glancing around as though expecting someone to pop up and claim her.
"Why wouldn’t it be?" Sue replies.
"I don’t know. I figured your boyfriend would be looking for you soon," Chan jokes, though there’s a part of him that’s curious.
"I don’t have a boyfriend," Sue says casually, taking a sip from the bottle.
Chan arches an eyebrow. "That's a lie!"
Sue playfully elbows him. "Oh, I know you’re happy to know I’m single," she teases.
"You can’t be single," Chan insists.
"But I am," she assures him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"No way," Chan shakes his head, unable to believe it. "I mean, you’re taller and more beautiful than the last time we met. You can’t be single."
Sue leans in, her tone shifting ever so slightly. "And maybe that's why we met again tonight."
The suggestion in her voice throws him off balance, and before he can say anything, they bump into a group of people running around in their underwear, dripping wet and giggling as they pass by. Some guests have clearly taken the after-party to the hot tub.
Sue looks at the now-empty, steaming hot tub and asks, "What do you think?"
"You... you want to get in the hot tub?" Chan asks, incredulous.
"You and me, together," Sue says with a mischievous grin, her fingers already reaching for the zipper of her dress.
Chan's eyes widen as she strips down to her undergarments, standing confidently in front of him.
Before he can protest, she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the tub. "Come on! It’s getting cold!"
Seeing no harm in it—and after all, it’s been a lovely night—Chan relents. He strips down to his boxers and slowly lowers himself into the steaming water. The heat engulfs him, relaxing his muscles.
Sue leans back in the tub, her fingers playfully skimming the surface of the water. "Chris, you’ve really grown since the last time I saw you."
"Nah, I’m still the same," Chan says, feeling oddly shy. Despite the years that have passed, Sue still has a way of making him feel like a nervous kid.
"You're... hot. Like, really hot," Sue says with a giggle, her eyes sweeping over him.
Chan shakes his head, his ears turning red. "Nah, nah."
Sue moves closer, her voice dropping. "I’ll admit, I regretted rejecting you back then."
"You’re only saying that to make me feel better," Chan says, trying to deflect, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that throws him off.
"Let's hope that's the case," Sue replies, and for a moment, their gazes lock, the tension thickening between them.
The heat of the water and the intensity of her gaze make Chan’s heart race, and he’s not sure if it’s just the temperature that’s making him feel this way. "It’s getting late," he finally says, breaking the moment.
"Yeah, you’re right," Sue agrees, being the first to climb out of the tub. She picks up her dress from the sun chair—and grabs Chan’s clothes as well.
"Hey, Chris," she says, a devilish grin spreading across her face as he’s about to step out of the water. "I have your clothes."
Before he can react, Sue takes off running, leaving Chan standing there, drenched and half-dressed.
"Sue!" Chan shouts, scrambling to get out of the tub. With no other option, he chases after her, his laughter echoing in the night.
As a family member of the wedded family, Sue has a room reserved at the resort, and she generously offers it to Chan so he can clean up after their impromptu dip in the hot tub. Chan stands in the bathroom, holding a hair dryer in one hand and his damp boxers in the other. He’s wrapped in a towel, waiting for his clothes to dry as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other.
"Chris, are you done?" Sue’s voice calls from outside the door.
"Almost done!" Chan shouts back, his voice strained. The air in the bathroom is warm and heavy, matching the tension he feels in his chest.
Before he can finish drying his boxers, Sue barges into the bathroom, still in her wet undergarments, her towel loosely wrapped around her. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s there.
"I can't wait any longer," she announces, her voice playful but firm as she strides confidently toward the shower stall, tossing her towel to the floor.
Chan swallows hard, eyes widening as she starts stripping out of her wet underwear. His gaze flickers to the mirror, catching glimpses of her body before he quickly tries to avert his eyes, heat rising to his face.
"I–I'm almost done..." Chan mumbles, his voice barely audible now as he turns the hair dryer off, but his words trail off because Sue isn’t listening. She’s busy shedding the last of her clothing, standing completely exposed now, her back to him.
His heart pounds, and though he desperately tries to look away, his eyes betray him, catching her figure in the reflection again. She moves toward the shower, but then she pauses, noticing his gaze through the mirror. A small smile curves her lips as she saunters back toward him, utterly confident.
"Chris," she says, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sends a shiver down his spine. She steps closer, her bare body now in full view. "Want to shower together?"
Chan’s throat tightens, and he can’t seem to find the words. His mind is racing, caught between a surge of old feelings and the shocking reality of the moment. Sue stands there, teasingly exposed, as if waiting for him to make the next move.
Chan was a boy back then but now, he's just a man.
-
Is Chan still mad about Lee visiting you? Or did he go somewhere after the wedding and forget to tell you? Or... maybe he simply doesn't want to see you?
You’ve been turning these thoughts over in your mind ever since that night. You thought he’d come over after the wedding, share his usual stories about the day, about anything, really—like he always does. But the silence has been unsettling.
Coming home from work today, you half-expect to see him standing at his door, greeting you with that dimpled grin, his usual "Hi, neighbor." But all you see is his closed door.
You convince yourself that if Chan wants to see you, he’ll come around like usual, to poke fun at you or make you laugh. But it’s been too long now, and a knot of worry forms in your chest. What if he’s sick? What if something’s wrong?
After dropping off your bags and changing into comfortable clothes, you make up your mind and head over to his door. You knock, heart thudding with anticipation. A few moments later, you hear footsteps from inside.
When the door creaks open, there he is. He looks well—he looks good, as usual—but something feels off. There’s no dimpled grin, no sparkle in his eyes.
"Hey, can I come in?" you ask, hoping your voice doesn't betray the unease creeping in.
"Sure," he says, stepping aside to let you enter.
You walk in and sit on the sofa, waiting for him to join you. The silence feels heavier than usual, and he seems distant, avoiding your gaze.
"How are you?" you ask, breaking the quiet.
He lets out a long sigh before replying, "I’m good." He says but it doesn’t feel like the truth.
"That’s good to hear," you say, though you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.
You reach out to press your hand gently against his forehead. "You’re not sick, are you?"
He lets you touch him, and you tease, "Ooh... you’re still the hottest tenant in this building."
You hope the joke might lighten the mood, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s faint, distant. You don’t want to push him too hard, but this isn’t Chan. Not the Chan you know.
"Are you trying a new persona?" you tease again, nudging him lightly. "Because this brooding emo guy thing doesn’t suit you."
This time, he chuckles, and the sound makes your heart lift a little. He finally looks at you, and his hand reaches for yours, fingers loosely intertwining with yours in the space between you on the sofa.
"I’m sorry," he murmurs, the apology catching you off guard.
"What for?" you ask, scooting closer to him, sensing that he’s carrying something heavy. You want to comfort him, whatever it is.
He leans back against the sofa, exhaling deeply. You wait, giving him the space to gather his thoughts.
"I met someone at the wedding," he begins, his voice careful.
A flicker of unease ripples through you, but you don’t say anything. You stay calm, letting him explain.
"Oh no, don't say you ran away with the bride," you joke, but it's more to ease the tension you feel building inside you.
Chan doesn’t react. He keeps looking straight ahead, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.
"I met Sue," he starts, his voice struggling to push the words out. "She’s... someone I knew from the past."
You stay quiet, sensing that there’s more he needs to get out, but the pauses between his words are long and heavy.
"We met there, talked, had some drinks... and we ended up taking a quick dip in the hot tub."
"Sounds fun," you say, but your voice is flat, far from convincing.
He swallows hard, visibly uncomfortable. "We ended up in her hotel room... we were in the bathroom at the same time, and then... she asked if I wanted to shower with her."
Your heart sinks, but you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You stare down at your lap, your thoughts swirling, every unkind possibility flashing through your mind.
"I didn’t take her up on it," he quickly adds, "but... I hesitated. And in that moment, I realized I completely dismissed your feelings. I hate myself for it." His voice cracks with regret, and you can see the pain etched across his face.
"Maybe I haven’t changed at all," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "Maybe I’ll always be... this... ‘fuckboy Chris.’" He lets out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back as if trying to escape the weight of his own thoughts.
He turns to look at you, his eyes full of sadness. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not ready for this." His voice is small now, hesitant. "And I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue."
It’s a lot to take in. The silence fills the room, and you let yourself feel everything. The disappointment, the hurt, the empathy. You need time, just a few moments, to let it all sink in.
When you finally lift your head, you give him a soft, bittersweet smile. "Thank you for being honest with me," you begin, your voice steady but quiet. "And I know it wasn’t easy to say... but I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed."
His expression is heartbreaking. "I’m really sorry," he whispers.
"But Chris..." You take his hand, resting it on your lap, your fingers curling around his. "The fact that you acknowledged what you did was wrong, and that you took responsibility for it, shows me you're on the right path."
His eyes shift, the glints of warmth starting to return. "Don’t ever say you can’t change. You’re changing... I can see it, believe me."
Chan lets out a breath, his relief palpable. He pulls you closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "Goodness, what did I do to deserve you?"
You chuckle softly, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "You don’t have to be perfect for me, Chris. You just need to be good for yourself."
He buries his head into the curve of your neck, his arms tight around you, holding on as if to remind himself this isn’t the end. Not yet.
"But, you know..." you tease, your voice light. "You could always quit now."
"Never!" he exclaims, pulling you even tighter into his embrace.
The two of you sit there, holding onto each other, your flaws laid bare. The silence between you feels different now—it's full of understanding, and something deeper starting to grow.
Chan tenderly cups your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and his eyes soften as they lock with yours.
"Thank you for not giving up on me," he whispers, his voice full of quiet gratitude.
You meet his gaze, the same emotions swirling within you. "Thank you for not giving up on me," you echo, because this journey hasn't been easy for either of you.
The moment between you is tender, delicate, and charged with something deeper—something that goes beyond words. You can feel it in the air, and in the way he looks at you. It feels right, like it needs to be sealed with something more, something real.
Your hands gently cradle his face, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. You swipe your thumb across his mouth, your touch lingering as you think about how much you missed the feel of him, the taste of him. Slowly, you lean in, closing the space between you, and press your lips to his.
The kiss feels unlike any you've shared before. It's soft, deliberate, and filled with all the unsaid emotions between you. His lips move against yours with such tenderness, and in that moment, everything melts away—the hesitation, the doubts, the fear. This kiss marks the start of something new, something deeper.
Chan kisses you gently, and it makes your heart tremble in your chest. Every brush of his lips against yours speaks of the emotions he's been holding back, the sadness and the sweetness of what you’ve both been through. It’s bittersweet and lovely, all at once.
This kiss signifies that you’re ready—both of you are ready to take this leap, to explore this new depth together.
When the kiss breaks, Chan can’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. He buries his head in your neck, inhaling your familiar scent that always calms him down. The feeling of your hand rubbing his back as you rest your head against him only solidifies how grateful he is that you're here, that he didn’t lose you.
He almost blew it, and yet here you are, forgiving him, giving him another chance. It's moments like this that make him certain—you’re the right person for him. Everything feels just... right.
You interrupt the peaceful silence with a playful tone, "It's your turn now."
"My turn for what?" Chan asks, momentarily confused as he lifts his head to look at you.
"Your turn to host the pajama party," you say, reminding him of the promise he’d made.
For a second, he’d forgotten all about that. "Huh?" he blurts out before realizing what you mean.
"I'll bring the snacks," you offer, and Chan nods, still smiling.
"Okay," he agrees without hesitation.
But you quickly add, "No weird movies, please?"
He can’t help himself from teasing you. "I know this French porn movie where the man—"
"Don’t make me cancel it," you cut him off, shooting him a stern look.
Chan laughs, "Okay, no French porn movies. Noted."
A mischievous idea crosses his mind as he playfully grins. "It's my party, though. I can do whatever I want, right?"
You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly seeing through his intentions, but to his surprise, you don’t outright protest. "Well... yes."
His grin widens as countless thoughts—most of them lewd and not remotely innocent—flood his mind. You’ve given him too much freedom now, and with that playful look in his eyes, Chan’s already thinking of ways to push your buttons.
-
The pajama party is officially on, and Chan has everything set to perfection. The bed faces the TV, freshly made with new sheets, and a scented candle flickers nearby, filling the room with a light, romantic scent. He carefully curated a movie list that’ll support the atmosphere he’s trying to create—a mix of feel-good films with enough romantic tension to get you in the mood.
As for himself, he keeps it simple yet calculated—gray sweatpants, worn low enough on his hips to give you a glimpse of his pelvic bones, knowing full well how much you like that.
He checks the room once more, muttering to himself, "What else? What else?"
After a while, he spots something."The lights!" he says, darting toward the switch.
Setting the lights to a soft, dim glow, it ensures the perfect balance—just enough to see but low enough to encourage a little closeness.
Just as everything’s ready, you arrive, right on time. He’s been buzzing with excitement, but he tamps it down, making sure to keep his face casual as he opens the door slowly.
"I'm on an all-protein diet, but I can't say no to this snack," he teases, his eyes shamelessly traveling down your body. There’s a flicker of disappointment when he sees you in an oversized sweater, hiding your figure.
You hand him the bag of snacks with a smirk, "I hope you like grapes!"
He places the bag on the table, watching as you stroll into the room, eyes observing the cozy setup he’s prepared.
"I see that you did a little renovation." You comment with eyes narrowed.
"And I see that you're not dressed according to the dress code," he quips, pointing at your large, cozy sweater with a mock frown.
"Is it necessary though?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.
"Yes," he insists, determined.
You sigh in playful defeat, tugging at the hem of your sweater and lifting it over your head, revealing a short, black slip dress underneath. It's silky, tight, and leaves just enough to the imagination—but not too much.
As you bend slightly to place the sweater on the sofa, Chan catches a glimpse of the lacey black underwear peeking out beneath the dress. His eyes widen for a second, and his pulse quickens. Suddenly, he wonders if maybe insisting on the dress code was too good of an idea. That slip dress, especially with the way it clings to you, is dangerous.
Oh, this is going to be fun, he thinks, trying to steady his breathing as he watches you settle in, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.
"Do you want me to prepare the snack or something?" you ask, snapping Chan out of his daze. He’s been standing there for what feels like a full minute, just staring at you.
He quickly averts his gaze, trying to shake off the image of your nipples lightly pressing through the silky fabric of your slip dress. It's too much of a distraction. "No, I'll do it. You can just..."
"I'll just get comfortable," you say with a teasing smile, turning away and heading toward the bed. His eyes can’t help but follow the way the hem of your slip rides up with each step, revealing more of your thighs than he's ready to handle.
He manages to gather his thoughts long enough to prepare the snacks. When he returns with the tray, he finds you nestled in the bed, already looking far too comfortable. A pillow is propped behind your back, your legs casually stacked and splayed across the bed, and the hem of your slip dress rides dangerously high, showing off even more skin.
You crawl over to the side of the bed, the neckline of your dress dipping low and giving him an accidental peek at your soft, unrestrained curves. You help him place the snacks on the bed, and his mind keeps wandering as he tries not to lose focus.
"So, what are we watching tonight?" you ask, clearly unaware of the war going on inside his head.
"I don't know," Chan blurts out without thinking, his mind still stuck on how your body moves so effortlessly in that dress.
Your brow furrows, and you pout in response to his non-answer.
"I mean, I've chosen a few, but I’ll let you make the final decision," he says, completely surrendering control of the night, which had not been part of his plan.
He places the tray of snacks in the empty space on the bed, and you pick up a chip, popping it into your mouth with a playful grin. He takes a seat next to you, keeping a safe distance—for now.
"Okay, now I’m curious about your choice of movies," you say as you crawl over him to reach for the remote.
The scent of your skin, the warmth of your body so close, it’s all so utterly distracting. His breath catches as you move over him, the proximity stirring something deeper inside.
"No porn," you say with a laugh, scrolling through his movie selections. "That’s a good start."
Chan grins, but the effect you have on him is overwhelming. He needs to cool down fast before his mind strays too far. Thinking quickly, he suggests an action movie, something that could help him focus on anything other than you.
You agree without hesitation and settle back against the pillows as the movie starts, the room dimly lit, and the night now filled with a tension that neither of you can completely ignore.
"So, the father no longer lives with his daughter?" you ask, eyes glued to the screen while Chan’s attention remains fixed on your body.
"Uh-huh, yeah," he mumbles, clearly distracted.
"I don't like the stepfather," you comment about the movie, unaware of how little Chan is actually paying attention.
You turn your head to him, catching him in the act of staring. You pretend not to notice, reaching casually for a grape from the bowl he's holding. But as you bring it to your mouth, it slips from your fingers, rolling down Chan’s bare stomach and stopping right at the waistband of his sweatpants.
Without hesitation, you innocently reach for the grape, your hand brushing dangerously close to where he’s most sensitive. The moment is fleeting, but it lingers for Chan. He feels the heat rise in his chest as your fingers pull the grape free and pop it into your mouth as if nothing happened.
For a second, he’s frozen, his breath catching as the proximity of your touch leaves him wanting more. His carefully crafted plans for tonight? They seem to be backfiring, with you unintentionally driving him wild.
-
Chan may think all your actions were innocent accidents, but little does he know every move was calculated. You've been noticing his wandering gaze, the way he keeps getting distracted by you rather than the movie. His bare torso, though distracting, only adds fuel to your own plans.
When the first movie ends, you decide it’s time to build a little anticipation. You scoot to the edge of the bed, casually announcing, "Bathroom break."
You linger in the bathroom longer than necessary, letting the tension grow. When you return, Chan has cleared the tray and is fluffing your pillow—a sight that makes you grin inwardly. He’s already under your control.
"Can we watch a romcom next?" you ask as you climb back onto the bed, this time settling even closer to him.
"Sure," Chan agrees without hesitation, confirming that you've got him wrapped around your finger.
The second movie begins, and a few minutes in, you fake a yawn, casually resting your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move at first, but eventually, his arm slips around you, his hand gently rubbing your arm. You smile softly, knowing you’ve set the perfect stage.
You lower your voice and whisper, "She’s beautiful, don’t you think?" referring to the actress on screen.
"Yes, she is," Chan replies quickly, too quickly.
You chuckle, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "I thought you'd say something like, 'but you're more beautiful,'" you tease.
That comment finally breaks his concentration on the movie. He looks at you, eyes locking with yours. The tension between you simmers, everything falling into place.
"You are more beautiful," he says, catching you off guard with how sincere he sounds.
You gently hold his chin, making sure his gaze stays on you. "Yeah?"
"Yes," his voice is low, thick with desire.
"Thank you," you sweetly murmur, leaning in to plant a soft, lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. It's a tease, just enough to leave him wanting more.
Chan is clearly struggling to hold on, but you're determined to push him further. You move swiftly, pulling one of his legs aside and slipping between them to sit.
The sheer panic in his voice when he asks, "What are you doing?" is impossible to miss.
“I want to sit here so we can cuddle,” you reply, playing the innocent card. You settle yourself against his chest, making sure to let out a low, sultry hum as you lean back into him.
He remains tense for a moment, but you feel him give in, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. His fingers gently squeeze your waist, and then his arm wraps around you, pulling you in close. His lips find your skin, starting with soft kisses on the top of your head, then trailing down the side of your face and to your bare shoulder. Each kiss becomes more ragged, more desperate, and you can feel the weight of his breath against your skin.
Finally, he turns your head, and the intensity in his eyes says it all—he’s done resisting. His lips crash into yours, the kiss raw, hungry, filled with more than just lust. It’s deep, hard, and leaves you breathless. You're barely keeping up as he kisses you with an urgency that feels like he’s been waiting for this forever.
“How can I walk away from this?” he asks, his voice heavy with emotion, his forehead resting against yours.
You smile, your lips barely grazing his as you reply, "You don’t, because it's your party, and you can do what you want."
That’s all it takes. Something inside him snaps. Chan gives in entirely, kissing you more feverishly, his hands roaming your body, touching you everywhere at once. You feel his fingers tug at the hem of your slip dress, and you lift your body slightly, allowing him to pull it off. The fabric falls away, leaving nothing between his hands and your skin.
“You’re so soft it's ridiculous,” he murmurs in awe, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
You watch as his hands trail down your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides, claiming every inch of you. He traces the lines of your body like he’s memorizing them, his breath hot against your neck as he leaves searing kisses along the way.
“Everywhere my hand slides, you fit me,” he whispers, showing you just how well with every touch—from your throat to your breasts, your hips, and down. His mouth follows his hands, kissing, tasting, marking you.
You let out a quiet whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. “Please let me touch you too,” you manage to whisper.
Chan doesn’t hesitate. He flips you over so that you’re straddling him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your every move. You waste no time, leaning in to kiss his neck, trailing your hands down his broad shoulders. Your fingers explore the firm muscles of his chest, and your lips follow, savoring the feel of his skin against yours.
You pause, admiring his sculpted abs, running your hands over them. "How do you even look like this?" you ask, awestruck.
Chan grins shyly, clearly not used to the compliments. “I don’t have anything better to do than go to the gym.”
“You do now,” you tease, tugging at him playfully.
Before he can react, you pull him down with you, both of you collapsing onto the bed together, laughing as the tension between you grows thicker.
In the dim light of the TV, Chan’s body hovers over yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he props himself on one elbow. You can feel the tension in the air, the weight of everything unsaid building between you. His eyes are locked onto yours, and you respond by slipping your hand down into his sweatpants, wrapping your fingers around him.
The way he groans, half-broken, sends a shiver down your spine. His hardness pulses under your touch, and each breath he takes sounds more ragged than the last. It’s intoxicating, knowing how undone he is because of you. Every stroke of your hand, every gentle squeeze makes him unravel a little more, and for a fleeting moment, you realize just how much power you have over him.
But before you can dwell on it, you feel his mouth. It takes you a second to pinpoint where, but then you feel it—hot and hungry, kissing your abdomen. His lips trail down, kissing along the curve of your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. The tension coils tighter inside you with each kiss.
With a playful grin, Chan grips the elastic band of your underwear between his teeth. The memory of last time flashes in your mind, and you can’t help but laugh at the familiar sight.
"Someone better not interrupt me again," he mutters between clenched teeth, determination and amusement laced in his voice as he tugs at the fabric.
The laughter bubbles out of you, half from the tickling sensation of his chin grazing your skin, half from the irony. But soon enough, the underwear slips away, and your laughter turns into a breathy sigh.
Chan wastes no time, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. You can barely catch the words he murmurs between kisses, your focus completely stolen by the feel of his lips and tongue, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.
It’s too much, and not enough all at once.
Your legs part instinctively, and you know exactly what’s coming next. Anticipation swirls inside you, tightening in your core as Chan’s mouth ventures dangerously close to where you need him most.
The first contact of Chan’s mouth on your wetness is deliberate—a slow, teasing swirl that feels like the soft lick you’d give to the top of a melting ice cream cone. The sudden sensation draws a sharp gasp from your lips, and you almost snort from the intensity of it. He rewards you with a soft kiss on your inner thigh, as if pleased with himself.
The second contact is a gentle kiss, a reminder of the first kiss you shared. It’s pure, almost chaste, without any tongue, yet it holds a promise of what’s to come. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, a single thought pulses through your mind—you deeply wish that his kisses were meant for no one else but you.
Then comes the third, another kiss that slowly progressing from pure and innocent to something much dirtier. His lips linger and press deeper, his tongue tracing lines that send electric shocks through your entire body.
Chan takes his time, savoring every second, and with each passing minute, your body alternates between moments of tension and relaxation, yielding completely to him.
All of a sudden, he lifts his head, groaning in frustration. "I can’t handle it..." His voice is rough, desperate. He rests the side of his head on your thigh, his fingers lightly circling your clit as he breathes out, "I need more. Please."
His words are strained, raw with need. He’s hanging on by a thread, teetering on the edge, and you know that if you don’t give him what he wants soon, he might just break. You slide your hand through his curls, tugging lightly to bring his gaze back to yours.
“More?” you ask, voice low, teasing, though his desperation makes your heart race.
"Way, way more," he whispers, the hunger in his voice unmistakable.
You smile softly, the pet name slipping out so naturally it surprises you. "Okay, baby."
At that, Chan hurriedly kneels, shedding his sweatpants in a rush, and when his erection springs free, it’s impossible not to stare. The sheer size of him, the desire etched across his face, it’s all aimed at you, and the heat between you intensifies.
He positions himself above you, taking your hands and tangling them with his own, pinning them above your head. "Finally..." he breathes, his voice thick with excitement and relief, almost bordering on ecstasy.
Despite the waiting, the teasing, you realize you were just as desperate as he was for this moment, "Finally..." you repeat.
As he pushes his hard length into you, he does it slowly, savoring every inch as your body adjusts to him. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can hear every sound that escapes his lips—soft gasps, sighs of pleasure, as if he’s trying to survive this moment and let it consume him all at once.
Fully sheathed inside you, he flexes his hips, and your eyes flutter shut. The sensation of him filling you, hot and hard, is overwhelming. It’s perfect.
"God, I was so right," he groans, his voice filled with awe. "You fit me perfectly"
Chan kneels again, his muscles contracting, his skin flushed red from the intensity. The view of him above you—his sculpted chest and arms—is breathtaking. He starts moving, each thrust measured, controlled. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and something similar to panic grips your chest, a raw intensity that threatens to overwhelm you.
“Talk to me,” Chan murmurs, leaning down to place a quick kiss on your lips.
You smile weakly, your eyes half-closed as you try to keep yourself together. "This is... this is nice," you mumble, barely coherent as your mind reels from the pleasure.
He looks almost offended, his brow furrowing as if the word "nice" is beneath him. "Nice, huh?" he repeats, voice low and teasing.
Before you can respond, his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you just enough to create a new angle. The depth he reaches now makes your breath hitch, and any attempt at keeping a coherent thought vanishes as he thrusts harder.
"Nice is good..." you start to say, but the words are swallowed by a moan as his pace increases, hitting just the right spot with every thrust. Your eyes roll back, and he grins at the reaction he pulls from you.
“I don’t do... nice,” Chan says with a smirk, leaning down as his movements grow faster, deeper, shaking the bed with every thrust.
You let out a sob, the sensation too much, and your body tightens around him, trembling as the knot in your stomach pulls tighter and tighter. It’s a battle to hold on, but there’s no escaping what’s coming.
Chan hovers lower, his face close to yours as he studies every expression, his hips moving with precision. "Is it still nice?" he growls, his voice hoarse.
You can’t answer, not with the way he’s pushing you right to the edge. Your breath hitches, and just as you open your mouth to say something, a desperate cry escapes as your body finally gives in, releasing all the tension in a wave of pure ecstasy. You cling to the sheets, legs shaking, your voice echoing in the room as Chan continues to drive into you.
Moments later, you feel Chan reach his own peak, his body shuddering against yours as he releases with a deep, guttural groan, collapsing onto you, exhausted and trembling from the intensity of it all.
Once he's come to his senses, he lets out a shy laugh, his cheeks flushed. He’s so different from the brash, confident man you expected him to be—soft and vulnerable in ways you didn’t anticipate. You gently stroke his cheek, feeling a surge of affection for this man you’re getting to know in a completely new way.
"We’re going to miss the end of the movie," you tease, glancing at the TV still flickering in the background.
Chan laughs, his voice rich and warm. "I think we finished just in time."
-
Every time Chan wakes up in the morning, he no longer wonders where he is. He’s right where he belongs, lying next to you.
On weekdays, you live your separate lives, each sleeping in your own beds. But on weekends, you’re his, and he makes the most of it. It’s not just about sex—though there’s plenty of that. Your nights are filled with movies, video games, long dinners, and endless cuddling that eventually leads to even more sex.
Once, he warned you that it would take him days, weeks, maybe even years to get enough of you.
As expected, your alarm rings just as Chan is about to pull you closer, his arms instinctively reaching for you. With a quick motion, he grabs your phone, turns off the alarm, and shoves it under his pillow, refusing to let you go.
“Work,” you murmur, still half-asleep, rubbing your eyes as you reach for your phone.
“You know what time it is,” he teases, pulling you on top of him with ease.
Chan brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears so he can plant soft kisses all over your face. When his lips finally reach yours, his hand glides down your spine, resting on your rear before slipping his fingers under your underwear, teasing you through the fabric.
"Chris..." you mewl, your voice a mix of protest and desire.
“It’s either we do it here or in the shower,” he says, voice thick with need. He doesn’t care about the setting—he just knows he needs you to start his day right.
“As long as you’re doing all the work,” you reply, half teasing, half serious.
His eyes widen in disbelief. "Since when do you ever—"
You cut him off with a kiss, your lips pressing firmly against his. "Are we doing this or not?"
No matter how much you protest, Chan always gets what he wants. And he knows you secretly love catering to his desires, just as much as he loves pleasing you.
Your lips move together again as he pulls his cock out of his boxers, positioning himself. You lean forward, lowering yourself onto him slowly, feeling him fill you inch by inch. His hands rest on your hips as you stay on all fours, your back arching beautifully while he thrusts into you from below.
You glance down, watching his cock move in and out of you, and let out a playful giggle. “How do you have so much energy in the morning?” you ask, a little amazed.
He grins up at you, his hips never stopping their rhythm. Honestly, just looking at you is all he needs to feel alive in the morning. Your moans, your smile, the way you move—it all drives him wild.
“That feels so good, baby,” you purr, leaning down to kiss him deeply.
Chan’s mind wanders for a brief second, wondering how he got so lucky. There was a time when he feared you might think this was only physical, that he mistook lust for something deeper. But now, he knows it’s not just his body that craves you—his heart does too.
“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your nose brushing against his.
"Nothing," he murmurs, looking at you with the softest expression. "I’m just so happy."
You smile at him, pressing another kiss to his lips, and he holds you close, your bodies fitting perfectly together as he continues to move, his hips rocking into yours until both of you are lost in the sensation.
When you finally reach your peak, he follows, planting his seed deep inside you to complete what’s now become his favorite morning ritual.
As you get dressed, Chan stays in bed, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. He watches you with lazy, contented eyes, still basking in the afterglow.
"I’ll cook dinner tonight," he says, hands propped behind his head, already thinking of the next time he’ll see you.
"Okay," you reply casually, slipping your sweater over your head.
"It would be easier if you gave me your spare keys," he says, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the underlying hope in his voice. "So I can cook at your place."
You pause for a moment, a coy smile creeping across your face. "You want the spare keys to my place?"
"Yes," he replies eagerly, sitting up a little straighter, hope flaring in his chest.
"Well..." You walk toward the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder. "You’ll have to earn it first."
As you leave his apartment and head across the hallway to your own, Chan lies back on the bed, his grin widening. It seems he has a new quest: earning the spare keys to your place.
And knowing Chan, he’ll do whatever it takes to get them.
-
Chan knows your morning routine by heart. He lingers in bed for a moment after you leave, his mind wandering back to the last time you were together. Whether it was this morning or the night before, the memories of your body against his make him smile lazily.
Eventually, he gets up, washes up, and grabs a quick breakfast before heading out of the apartment to send you off to work.
As he steps out of his door, he sees a sight that surprises him: you're helping someone unload boxes from the elevator. Without thinking, he rushes over to help, noticing that there are still several boxes left inside.
“You should be on your way to work,” Chan says, more concerned about your punctuality than anything else.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t get into the stuffed elevator,” you reply with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the time.
Just then, someone else steps out of the elevator, carrying the last box. “You can use it now,” he says, smiling.
You turn to Chan and introduce him, “This is Minho. He’s our new neighbor.”
Then you turn to Minho and gesture to Chan, “And this is Chris, the other neighbor.”
Chan feels a pang of disappointment. Just the "other neighbor"? He swallows it down, deciding to let it go for now.
Minho puts the box down and extends his hand to Chan. “Minho,” he says with a friendly grin.
“Chris,” Chan replies, shaking his hand. As their hands clasp, Chan gets a quick read on him. He knows the type—game recognizes game—but for now, he decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I’d better get going,” you say as Minho holds the elevator door open for you.
“Yes, please, I’d be devastated if you were late to work,” Minho says with a smile that seems just a little too smooth.
You laugh softly, waving it off. “It’s fine. No worries.”
That laugh—the ease of your interaction—it’s all too friendly for someone you’ve just met. It takes Chan back a little, knowing how long it took for you to warm up to him. Still, he lets it slide again.
As you move to leave, Chan pulls you close, intending to kiss you goodbye, but at the last second, you turn your head, and the kiss lands awkwardly on your jaw.
“Bye,” you say softly before stepping into the elevator.
“Have a great day at work, neighbor!” Chan calls after you, trying to play it off with a wave as the doors close.
Left standing in the hallway with Minho, Chan notices the pile of boxes still waiting to be moved into the new neighbor’s apartment. He offers to help, not feeling right about leaving the guy to handle it all alone.
After placing the last box inside, Minho hands Chan a can of soda as thanks. They sit for a moment, taking a breather from the unexpected workout.
“I must say,” Minho says suddenly, cracking open his can, “that was hard to watch.”
Chan’s brows knit together in confusion. “Sorry?”
“You and that pretty neighbor of yours,” Minho continues, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
Chan straightens up, his grip tightening on the can. “What are you trying to say?”
Minho lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can see you like her, but her… I don’t think she likes you back.”
Chan feels the jab, but he doesn’t let it show. He knew there was something off about Minho from the start.
“She introduced you as her mere neighbor,” Minho adds, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “And that kiss dodge? Ouch.”
Chan tries not to take the bait, but it’s impossible not to feel a little stung by the comment. Pissed, actually.
“How long have you been chasing after that cute neighbor?” Minho presses, his chuckle laced with condescension. He doesn’t even give Chan a chance to defend himself.
“Hey, you can mess with me all you want, but not with her,” Chan warns, his voice low, a dark edge creeping in.
Minho only snorts, crushing the empty soda can in his hand before tossing it casually into the trash. “And here I thought you were just like me.”
Chan tenses as Minho steps closer, eyes narrowing with a fierce smile. “I could have that girl in a week,” he declares boldly.
Chan’s jaw clenches. “I told you not to mess with her.”
Minho shrugs, completely unfazed. “Just watch me.”
And with that, it’s clear: there’s a new fuckboy in the area, and Chan’s got more than a little competition.
-
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Sights Unseen- Rafe Cameron x Reader
Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader, John B x Sister! Reader
Summary: John B catches sister!Reader with her secret boyfriend, Rafe, and doesn't know how to feel about it.
Words: 1600+
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You knew how John B would react if he ever found out about you and Rafe. Your brother had always been protective of you—perhaps too much at times—and the idea of you, his Pogue sister, dating a Kook, especially Rafe Cameron, would send him into a fury.
But despite all the risks and complications, you and Rafe had kept your relationship a secret. Late-night walks on the beach, quiet talks in secluded places, stolen moments when no one was watching—those were the ways you saw each other, away from the prying eyes of your brother, Sarah, or anyone else who might find out.
Your love for Rafe was deeper than you could have ever imagined. There was something about him, beyond all the chaos and anger, that made you feel seen. And, even though you knew it was dangerous, you couldn’t help but want to be with him. You both enjoyed the peace the secrecy brought, not having to worry about what others had to think. It was just you and him. You knew it was time to tell your brother, but you wanted to revel in the peace for a little bit longer.
Little did you know how soon that secret would be up.
You had gone down to the beach with Rafe, away from the house. The day was warm, and the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. You were sitting together against a tree at the edge of the yard you thought was out of sight, laughing about something silly that had happened earlier in the day.
Your head rested against his shoulder as you shared stories, enjoying each other’s company in the quiet serenity of the late afternoon. You didn’t notice the figure watching you both from a distance, a figure you thought wasn’t going to be around the house until much later.
John B had been looking for you since you weren’t in the house and your phone’s location was around. He figured you had gone to the pier to watch the sunset, but hadn’t expected to find you here, especially who you were here with. When he saw you and Rafe, his stomach twisted with disbelief. The sight of you, so comfortable and happy with Rafe Cameron of all people, sent a rush of anger through him. It was clear you hadn’t seen him, and he was unsure how to approach the situation.
Part of him wanted to storm over, pull you away from Rafe, and yell at him—at both of you. But another part of him, deep down, knew he should wait back and talk to you about it first. He felt betrayed, but he also couldn’t help feeling a strange knot in his chest when he saw you laugh, your eyes lighting up in a way he hadn’t seen in months.
“Sarah,” he whispered to get her attention, clenching his jaw as he spotted her walking down the dock looking for him.
“John B, what are you doing?” Sarah asked in a hushed tone, noticing his tense posture and the fact that he was hiding behind tall grass.
“I can’t believe it. She’s with him, Sarah. She’s with Rafe,” he hissed, anger bubbling in his voice.
“What?” Sarah’s eyes widened as she got closer to John B and looked at the pair he was pointing at. “He kept denying it but I knew he was seeing someone! I had no idea it was Y/N!”
“I need to go talk to her, to make her see reason.” John B ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath ready to storm over there.
“No, you don’t,” Sarah said firmly, standing beside him and crossing her arms. “You’re not going to do anything rash. Let’s just take a minute and think this through.”
“I don’t need time to think. I need to fix this,” John B shot back, but his voice softened when he looked back at you and Rafe.
Sarah sighed. “John B, listen. I get it. I really do. Shit, he’s my brother. But this isn’t the way to handle it. Maybe you should talk to her first, before you go off on Rafe.”
“But—”
“No,” Sarah interrupted, her voice calm but firm. “Just… give it a day. Talk to her when she’s back and you calm down a bit. Just let it be for now.”
John B hesitated. He wanted to protect you, but he also wanted to understand what was going on. For now, he decided to take Sarah’s advice, but he wasn’t giving up. This wasn’t over.
---
That night, John B couldn’t sleep. He lay in his bed, tossing and turning, the image of you laughing with Rafe haunting him. The joy in your eyes had shaken him to his core. He hadn’t seen you so happy in a long time—since before Dad went missing. The weight of that memory was always there, a constant reminder of how much your family had lost. He had thought that, maybe, if he kept you close, protected you from people like Rafe, you’d find some sense of stability. But now, with Rafe in the picture, everything felt off balance.
He needed to talk to you. To figure this out.
Slipping out of bed, he made his way down the hallway toward your room, but when he opened the door, his heart sank. Your bed was empty. The room was dark, but the window was cracked open, letting in the cool night air. He knew where you were.
John B headed down to the treeline, where he had seen you earlier, moving quietly through the dark. He could hear the sound of your voice, but the closer he got, the more he realized what was happening.
He stopped, ducking behind a nearby tree to stay hidden. You and Rafe were talking softly, the dim light from the house casting long shadows on the edge of the nearest end of the dock where you were sitting now. He could hear snippets of your conversation, but he wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
You laughed. The sound was light, genuine, carefree, something John B hadn’t heard from you in so long. Of course you still laugh, but hearing the old, heartfelt laugh again brought over a wave of emotion. He froze, watching from the shadows, his heart aching.
He watched as Rafe leaned in, his voice low, and for a moment, he was struck by how tender Rafe was with you. The Kook who’d once seemed so cold and distant was now holding you in a way that made John B question everything he thought he knew. The way his face softened when he looked in your eyes as he so gently tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.
He couldn’t deny it—Rafe made you happy. And, for the first time in a long while, that happiness was something John B had no control over.
John B stayed hidden, watching you and Rafe interact, the jealousy and anger in his chest slowly turning into confusion. As he eavesdropped, he realized something he hadn’t before: you were different when you were with him. You were laughing, smiling, truly happy in a way that John B had been trying to make happen for months. It was as if the burden of everything that had happened—your dad’s disappearance, the constant unknowing—was finally lifted, even if just for a moment.
John B exhaled slowly, his anger dissolving into something softer. He wanted to protect you, to make sure you were safe, but he also realized that he couldn’t control everything. He couldn’t force you to be someone you weren’t. He didn’t have the right to take your happiness away just because he didn’t understand it.
“I want you to be happy, Y/N,” John B whispered to himself, his hand gripping the side of the tree he was peering past. “Even if I don’t get it.”
After a long moment of hesitation, he finally stepped out from the shadows, deciding not to interrupt. He watched you and Rafe for a while longer, knowing now that the only thing that mattered was your happiness.
---
The next day, when John B saw you, he didn’t immediately confront you about Rafe. Instead, he pulled you aside quietly, his expression serious but softer than it had been.
“I’m not happy about it, but I saw you with Rafe last night” he started, his voice low as your eyes widened and you gasped. He put up his hand before you could try to say anything. “I don’t like that you’re with him. There’s a lot that I don’t understand, but I get it now. Last night when I saw you with him,” he paused, and took a deep breath as if he was about to admit something to you and himself. “You were happy; a happiness that I haven’t seen in a long time. I’ve noticed lately you’ve been different, and now I know it’s because of Rafe. I don’t like the guy- I mean, hell Y/N, you picked the biggest asshole on the island? Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is you seem really happy and that’s all that matters. Just… be careful, okay?”
You smiled, relieved, but still hesitant. “You’re not angry?”
John B shrugged, his gaze meeting yours. “I’m angry at myself for not seeing it sooner. But I just want you to be safe, Y/N. If Rafe’s really the one who makes you happy, then I can’t stand in the way of that.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, and you gave him a tight hug. “Thank you, John B. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said softly, patting your back. “Just don’t go full Kook on me, alright?” You laughed, and John B heard that laugh again from last night, that pure, unburdened laugh. And in that moment, he knew he’d made the right decision, no matter how difficult it was.
Because as long as you were happy, that was enough.
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x routledge!reader#obx#obx fic#outer banks#outer banks imagine#john b routledge#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron one shot#routledge!reader
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shouto has not stopped talking about his new nephew for an hour and fifty seven minutes.
you can't blame him, really, for not being able to stop rambling since he got home—you saw the photos he snapped on his phone, the sweet little boy is borderline cherubic. and it's his first nephew, after all, with touya being the first of the todoroki siblings to have any children. there's added novelty to this new arrival. the fact that the baby is so cute is just a serendipitous bonus.
"...and then he fell asleep right in my arms." shouto rinses his toothbrush under the stream of water flowing from the tap in your shared bathroom. half the story he'd just told had been lost to the froth of toothpaste in his mouth, talking around the toothbrush as he cleaned his teeth before bed, but he'd already told you this part of the story three times—so thankfully you didn't miss anything.
you smile as shouto wipes at the corner of his mouth with a towel hanging from the rail on one side of the bathroom, watching his reflection in the mirror. his eyes flicker up to meet yours in the surface of the glass, and he sees the mirthful twist at the corner of your mouth.
he turns to you in the narrow bathroom just off your bedroom and approaches you slowly, his arms winding around your waist as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. he's in his pajamas now, ready for bed, and without lifting his head or stepping away from you, he begins shuffling the two of you out the door towards your waiting bed in the next room. you can't help but giggle as you go, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck for balance, allowing him to guide you wherever he sees fit.
shouto leans you back gently once the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, crawling overtop of you to get to his side of the bed and then pulling you into his chest once more as he tugs the blankets up around you both.
"sounds like you had a lot of fun today," you remark quietly as you settle into bed, your fingers tracing idle patterns into the flat plane of shouto's sternum.
"i didn't expect him to be so small," shouto replies. "or to smell so good."
you want to laugh at his sincere tone of surprise, but hold it back.
"i hope i get to meet him soon, too," you say.
"touya says you're welcome any time," shouto insists. "he said i'm only welcome some of the time, though."
that really does make you laugh, because you can practically hear the eldest todoroki son's voice saying the words.
it's quiet for a while as you and shouto lay in bed, tangled up together.
"he's gonna make me the godfather," shouto finally says after a while—so softly you almost miss it. the remark, and the tenderness in his voice, makes something in your chest squeeze tight.
"that's so nice, sho," you answer.
"that means if anything ever happens to touya, we get the baby."
'we' he says—not i—like he doesn't for a second picture any future (even one where his beloved older brother has met some untimely demise) without you in it.
"don't wish anything ill on him just because you want to steal his cute baby," you tease him, lifting your head up and resting your chin against his chest so you can watch his face. he looks pensive, like he's really mulling over your words, and it makes you want to laugh again.
"but it would be nice, i think," shouto finally speaks again after his careful contemplation. "having the baby here with us."
heat floods up fast to your cheeks, and you glance away unconsciously. you're sure shouto has no idea what he's just said—still a little giddy from how smitten he is with his new nephew. but it still makes your mind go to places it shouldn't.
"no baby stealing," you reiterate firmly. flopping down again to go to sleep—if for no other reason than you suddenly find it hard to meet his gaze.
shouto sighs a little, but the sound is resigned like he's reluctantly agreeing to your terms. he eases you over onto your side so he can curl up behind you underneath the cover of your quilt, his strong arm looping over your waist.
the heat of shouto's breath hits the shell of your ear as his face rests on the pillow behind you, and you can still smell the spearmint from his toothpaste. his warmth seeps into you as he presses into your back. you close your eyes and luxuriate in the familiarity of it.
"we could have our own, you know," shouto's voice is much nearer to you than you expect it to be when he speaks again, his lips brushing against the back of your ear softly as they shape his words. his hand slips up underneath the t-shirt you wore to bed—the tips of his fingers feel scorching as they ghost across your skin. "and i bet our baby would be even cuter than touya's—no stealing required."
#shouto x reader#todoroki shouto x reader#bnha drabble#bnha writing#writing#todoroki 'lawful good except when it comes to annoying my family' shouto
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Insomnia
Pairing: Zoro x Reader, platonic Strawhats & Reader
SFW
Summary: You find yourself unable to sleep, and all of your friends are determined to help. Unfortunately, nothing seems to work...until you find yourself in the lap of a certain swordsman. Warnings: Just Extreme Fluff! Word Count: ~3k Crossposted from Ao3
You were exhausted.
It had started slowly. You began to take a little longer to fall asleep and wake up just a touch earlier, spending days with your thoughts just a bit fuzzy around the edges, eyes a little unfocused in quieter moments, but nothing severe.
Then you started waking up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep no matter how long you closed your eyes and laid there, praying for relief. You would instead wander around the ship, find ways to make yourself busy, making conversation with whoever was on night watch. You pretended not to notice the quiet concern on the crew’s faces when they all spoke and realized you had been awake to speak with each of them at 4am for the last week.
And now, you have given up on sleeping entirely, staring at the ceiling of your quarters with no sign of sleep’s embrace at all. No matter what you tried, it wouldn’t come. You can already see sunlight begin to shine under the door. Your friends are stirring, and you can already smell the breakfast Sanji’s making this morning. Another night of restlessness. You can barely force yourself out of your cot, but there isn’t a point in staying. It won’t help. You drag yourself to the deck, feet shuffling and face scowling.
“Still can’t sleep?” You don’t notice Usopp until he speaks, and you look up to see him up on the railing, fishing pole in hand, face flooded with pity and concern.
“No.” You try desperately to keep from snapping, knowing it isn’t his fault, isn’t anyone’s, but the best you can do is keep your voice flat and your words short. He winces a little at your tone, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he ponders you quietly, before seemingly coming to a decision.
“Do you want help?”
“Help how?”
“Help falling asleep! From the great Captain Usopp!” He puts on a silly wide and smug smile, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. He probably doesn’t even have any ideas yet, he just wants to help in any way he can.
“I would try almost anything at this point. What’re you thinking?”
He lets out a smug little laugh. “I knew you’d want my help! I don’t know if you know this, but I’m the greatest storyteller in all the seas.” He gives you a conspiratorial grin. “I bet you I can tell you a bedtime story that’ll send you to dreamland before you know it!”
You consider it. Usopp is an amazing storyteller, of course. You’ve never heard him tell a single tale that wouldn’t hook you enough to keep you awake, but maybe he’s just never tried. “Alright. I’ll come get you tonight—”
“Tonight? You’ll probably die by then! We’re gonna do this now, and you can sleep the entire day!” He grabs your hand, dragging you back to the bunks. You pass a few of your other friends on their way out, and while Zoro and Nami give you strange looks, they don’t comment. Just before the door closes, you see Sanji’s head pop out of the kitchen you call everyone in, and his eyes shift to you in confusion.
The door slams with a definitive sounding thunk, and Usopp’s hands push you onto your cot. He tucks you in with surprisingly practiced hands, before saying, “Alright. Get ready for the best sleep of your life!” He clears his throat dramatically. “Once upon a time, the great Captain Usopp—”
“—the end! …Nothing, huh? Not even for a second?” You flick open an eye to see disappointment on poor Usopp’s face. His tale had continued for at least an hour, with several dozen twists and turns as he tried to stretch it out until you finally started snoring, but you were as horribly, devastatingly awake as ever.
“Not even a wink. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, you're not the one who failed.” His shoulders slump a little. “I really thought that would work.”
You sit up to pat this hand comfortingly. “You didn’t fail, Usopp. I’m just…cursed. Probably. By God.” His stomach grumbles, and you suddenly remember he skipped breakfast to help you. “We should probably eat something.”
“Probably.” He looks so dejected it makes your chest ache a little.
“It’s okay, Usopp. Really.”
He doesn’t respond, getting up to head to the kitchen as you trail behind him. Everyone else has finished eating, half of the crew having already left, with only Sanji, Robin, and Nami chatting quietly over the table. There’s a plate set and ready, food growing cold, and you feel a flash of guilt knowing it was for you.
“Oh, my dear, you’re finally here! I was getting worried. I can fix you a new plate—here—” Sanji shoves the cold plate into Usopp’s hands. “I’ll throw something better together, just you wait!” Before you can even respond, he’s back to the kitchen, busying himself with making you something else.
“Are you alright? You look rather…” Robin trails off, clearly looking for and failing to find any words to describe your current state that wouldn’t be horribly offensive.
“Awful.” Nami finishes for her, firmly but not without pity. “Are you still having trouble sleeping?”
“Yeah. I haven’t slept in at least 48 hours.”
“Oh my god.” Nami’s mouth hangs open a little, having not realized the full scope of your issues. Her face is painted with concern. “Are you…alright?”
“Not really.”
“You still can’t sleep?” Sanji calls out in concern over his shoulder, his knife still chopping away. “Do you want me to make you some tea? It might help.”
“Is it chamomile? I’ve tried that already.”
“It has chamomile in it, but that isn’t the only part. Valerian root, passionflower, and a couple extra things. I can’t guarantee it’ll fix your problem but it might help. I made it for Franky once and he fell asleep right at the table.” There’s no small measure of pride in his voice at that.
“I’m open to anything, at this point. Would you make me a cup?”
“Of course, dear!” His voice gets soft and honeyed the way it always does when he speaks to you, and after a new plate is placed in front of you he rushes off to the pantry to find the ingredients he needs.
Robin looks over you consideringly. “If that doesn’t work, why don’t you try reading? I always find winding down with a book helps.”
“Maybe. Usopp told me a story and it didn’t end up working, but reading it myself could be different.”
Nami taps her chin with her fingers, pondering. “Do you want to use aromatherapy, too? I have some lavender we could spray on your pillow. That might help too.”
“We can throw whatever spaghetti at the wall you want, I just want something to stick. I’m not picky.”
And with that the girls were off to grab their chosen items, while Usopp silently scarfed down cold eggs and tried to bandage his wounded pride. Sanji is humming a song you don’t recognize as the kettle whistles, and he expertly prepares your cup of tea. He’s sneaking glances over at you, probably lost in a daydream where he saves you from your horrible insomnia and you fall madly in love with him in return. Honestly? If he manages, you might. Any hero that saves you from this is worth considering.
As soon as the mug of tea is placed in your hands, Sanji’s fingers seemingly deliberately brushing against yours, you’re ushered back to your cot, where Nami, Robin, Brook, and Franky are waiting. You have no idea when this turned into a group activity, but sure. Why not?
“I thought some soothing music might help. A lullaby, maybe?” Brook’s voice is soothing and soft, like he’s already trying to lull you to sleep.
“And I brought a white noise machine as a backup! Thought you might like it.” Franky’s voice is as gentle as his natural boom can be.
Your eyes flick between them, then back to Nami, who’s unnaturally focused on fluffing your pillows and adding extra blankets to your cot, making it look the most inviting it ever has. “Are you gonna charge me for those?”
“No! …Probably not.” Her grin is mischievous.
“Honestly, if you get me to sleep, I’ll pay whatever you—”
“Woah! Don’t make any promises you can’t keep. She’ll keep you to that.” Franky’s voice is filled with brotherly concern. “Nami, don’t pay attention to that. Anyone that tired has no idea what they’re saying.”
“I wouldn’t actually take payment for this! I’m not a monster.” Her last punch to your pillow has a bit of extra force behind it, her irritation clear.
Before they can continue bantering, Brook begins playing a tune on his violin, bringing the rest of you to silence. Your hands are wrapped around your warm mug of tea, a book chosen by Robin open in front of you while you sip. The smell of lavender is strong enough to have flooded the room. Franky clicks a button on his little machine and the sounds of spring rain washes over all of you. Your shoulders relax, a soft smile slipping onto your face, but your eyes are no closer to closing. Even when Sanji comes in to take your mug away, the warmth long faded, or when Brook’s finger bones grow tired and his song comes to an end, or when the snores of your friends start to fill the room, you do not sleep. You feel no closer than you were an hour ago when this started, no closer than you were this morning when Usopp had tucked you in. You honestly feel like you’ll never sleep again.
It isn’t until noon that you finally give up, having finished half of the book that Robin lent to you. The smell of lavender had started to fade an hour ago. You carefully step over Franky and Brook passed out on the floor, your eyes wandering over to Nami and Robin sleeping peacefully on vacant cots. You try to be glad this worked for somebody, but you can’t help a bitter sort of jealousy brewing in your chest. Why do they get relief when they aren’t even suffering? Why is it only you who has to feel this weight dragging you down?
You try to stalk past Luffy, pouting all the while, but your captain catches you by the wrist with a rubbery hand. “Are you okay?”
You huff. “I’m never going to sleep again.”
“That sucks.”
You blink at him blankly.
He blinks back.
“I’m just having trouble sleeping. Not, like, literally.”
“Oh.”
“It sucks.”
“Yeah.” He hums, pressing his lips together in thought. You can practically see the lightbulb above his head when he has his idea, his eyes brightening and smile widening. “Oh, I’ve got it!” He pulls you along with him, dragging you quickly further onto the deck before you’re unceremoniously shoved forward, stumbling over your legs and landing on something firm and warm.
“Bwuh?” Your eyes flick up to see Zoro bathed in sunlight, his good eye just barely open, a yawn forcing his mouth open wide. “What’s goin’ on?”
“You’re good at sleeping!” He gives a wide grin. “Help ‘em!” And without elaborating he just…runs off to do god knows what, satisfied that he has somehow solved the problem.
Zoro’s eye focuses on you questioningly, but before you can explain, you suddenly become intensely aware of your position. You’re in his lap, face pressed into his thighs, your chest pressed into his lower legs. You both stare at each other, wide-eyed, unsure on what to say or how to say it.
“You comfortable down there?” His voice is even, but he’s betrayed by the hint of pink on his cheeks.
“I—um. I’m…fine.” You wince at the shake in your voice. You can feel heat spreading from the tips of your ears down to your neck, and you hope it isn’t as noticeable as it feels. The smirk on his face shows it probably is.
“Oh yeah?” He gives a quiet laugh. “You’re welcome to stay.” Despite his own embarrassment, he radiates smugness. That’s Zoro for you—ever the strategist, he finds whatever upper hand he can get and uses it to corner his opponent. He’s looking at you like a cat does a mouse, and you really do feel like prey. You instinctively go to hide your face from him, only to find your nose brushing against his thigh. He chuckles. “Oh, getting cozy, that’s good. I guess you’re in for the long haul.”
You flush even further, and with your voice muffled against his leg, you manage to protest. “I’m having a bad enough time without you bullying me, Zoro.”
“This isn’t bullying. C’mon, I’ve seen how you fight, you’re tougher than that. You normally don’t back down that easily.” His hand ruffles your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “What’s got you so down?”
You whine quietly. “I haven’t slept in days, and I haven’t slept well in weeks. I feel like I’m dying.”
His energy immediately changes, eyes and smile softening into something more genuine. “Doesn’t sound fun. And Luffy thought I could help you with that?”
“I guess.”
“What have you tried?”
“Everything. Counting sheep, bedtime stories, warm drinks, lavender—”
“Bedtime stories?” His voice is teetering on teasing again.
“Usopp’s idea.”
“What, did he tuck you in too?”
You go quiet.
“Wait, really?” He sounds well and truly baffled.
“It was actually kind of nice,” you mumble.
If you didn’t know better you would think Zoro was pouting. His eye is a bit narrowed, his mouth in a flat line, bottom lip slightly jutted out. “Oh yeah? Well it didn’t work, did it? So you had to come to me for help.”
His hands grab your shoulders, pulling you up so you’re sitting instead of laying on his lap, your face directly pressed into his chest. You can hear his heartbeat below it, not exactly rapid but certainly betraying him, letting you know this situation is affecting him just like it’s affecting you. His arms wrap around you, and when he speaks, you can feel the rumble of his voice radiate through his chest and into you. “And now you’re gonna sit here with me, you’re gonna fall asleep before you know it, and the rest of those fools will have to accept that only I could give you what you need.” He pulls you impossibly closer, snugly tucking you into him and leaning back to pull you down to the deck with him.
“Someone’s a little jealous, huh?”
He scoffs. “Why would I be? Who’re you laying on right now, huh?” His hand grips your hip as if proving a point. “Go to sleep already, you need it.”
“What, you think this is all it takes? Cuddling?” Even as you say it, you break into a yawn, and your eyes begin to droop. His presence is comforting, and between his body heat and the gentle warmth of the sunlight, you can feel yourself beginning to fade. Your vision is too blurry to see his cocky grin, but you know it’s there all the same.
“Yeah, I do. Now get some rest.” You barely hear his response over the calming sound of his heartbeat. Your breathing slows, and before you know it, you’re sleeping for the first time in what feels like years.
After you’ve fallen asleep, he takes his time to observe you. The way your hair shines in the sunlight, the way your mouth parts slightly when you snore, the way your body feels so natural and right against his. His hand rubs a soothing circle into your back while you rest, and you make a soft noise of contentment that he can’t help but smile at. You look so beautiful like this, so small and soft and fragile. Something to care for. Something to protect. It feels right to have you in his arms, right against him, where he can keep you safe.
He wonders if you’d be willing to do this all the time, though he’d rather die than ask. He has his pride. Maybe you’ll come to him, wide eyed and wanting, next time you struggle to fall asleep. Maybe you’ll ask in that shy little voice if he’d be willing to help you, in the way only he can, and all he’ll have to do is open his arms for you to fall into. Maybe he’ll have more days and nights like these, with the comforting weight of another in his bed. What an idea.
He wonders what you might give him in thanks. One of those breathtaking smiles, surely. A hug, perhaps. It wouldn’t be more than this, pressed together, but the idea of you initiating it, of it being a deliberate choice on your part, makes his heart beat a little faster. He imagines you throwing your arms around him of your own volition, no captain shoving you forward. He imagines those arms moving around his neck instead, pulling him closer so you can press your lips onto his. He imagines how soft they’d be, and how desperate you would be to feel his own. He imagines you wanting him in a dozen different ways, each unique, each better than the last. He imagines calling you his, and you calling him yours in return.
He falls asleep to the idea of a shared life, a shared bed, a shared heart. When the crew finally stumbles out of their naps, they find the two of you on deck, intertwined, a tangle of limbs that seems all but impossible to separate. You’re both snoring softly, smiles on your faces, and they can’t bear to wake you. You seem like you’re having very sweet dreams.
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☆ i'm yours (luigi mangione x reader)
☆ word count: 2.4k
☆ warnings: slightly toxic, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, not really proofread
☆ after taking a break from each other, you decide you should make it permanent. you invite luigi over to break up with him but he's got something else in mind.
luigi was so wrong for you, but you couldn't get enough of him. even after you'd broken up and gotten back together time and time again, you'd always end up back with him. this time was different though. you'd found someone to take your mind off of luigi, someone who made you feel so good about yourself. you were finally ready to let him go.
sitting on the couch in your living room, you pick up your phone and call luigi. he picks up after the first ring.
“hey what’s up,” he says, aiming to sound nonchalant but miserably falling short. he sounded like he'd been longing to hear you so badly.
“hey lu,” you say, feeling a pang of intense guilt. he has absolutely no idea what’s coming next.
“i’ve been meaning to uh-” you begin to say, before realizing you just don't have the heart to break up with him over the phone.
"why don't you come over tonight?" you suggest, your voice softer now, as if you’re bracing yourself for the weight of the words. "there’s something i’ve been meaning to talk to you about”
“uh yeah, i can probably be over in about an hour”
you nod, even though he can't see you. your fingers grip the phone a little tighter, and you press your lips together, trying to steady your breathing.
"okay, yea. i'll be here," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
the call ends before you can say anything else, and the sudden silence in the room feels almost suffocating. you stare at the screen of your phone, the echo of luigi’s voice still lingering in your ears. an hour.
you sit there for a moment, trying to gather yourself. you fidget with the hem of your sweater anxiously. the weight of what you’re about to do presses down on you, and you wonder if you’re making a mistake. but deep down, you know this is the right thing. you’ve been holding on for too long, and it’s time to let go.
the clock on the wall ticks louder than usual as the minutes slip by, each one pulling you closer to the moment when you’ll have to look him in the eyes and finally say the words. the words you’ve been avoiding, the ones that will end everything.
you stand up, pacing the small space of your living room bathed in the amber glow of the sunset shining through your window. you're not sure what to do with your hands, or your mind for that matter. the thought of luigi showing up here, of seeing him and feeling that familiar pull, makes your stomach twist. it’s always been like this—he’s always been like this. he’ll look at you with those wide brown eyes, and you’ll almost forget why you need to let go.
but you can’t forget. not this time.
the doorbell rings, pulling you back to reality. your heart skips a beat as you take a deep breath, walking toward the door. you hesitate for a moment before pulling it open, the sight of him standing there in a navy sweater and baggy jeans, his dark curls slightly disheveled, still somehow perfect in his own way—makes everything inside you ache.
"hey," he says softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, but there's something different now. he doesn’t know it yet, but things are about to change forever.
you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. "come on in."
as he steps over the threshold, you brace yourself. this is it.
before you can open your mouth, his hand finds its way beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head upwards as he plants his lips onto yours. you melt into the kiss, placing your hands against his chest as he pulls you closer, and for a moment, you forget everything. the warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of his cologne, the way his body fits perfectly against yours—it all comes rushing back, threatening to sweep away your resolve.
but then you remember why he's here, why you called him over. with a sharp intake of breath, you pull away, gently pushing against his chest. luigi looks at you, confused.
"what's wrong?" he asks, his hand still lingering on your waist.
you step back, creating some distance between you. the space feels charged, heavy with unspoken words.
"lu, we need to talk," you say, your voice steadier than you feel.
his thick eyebrows furrow, and you can see the concern etched across his face. "okay," he says slowly, following you as you lead him to the couch.
you sit down, leaving a little space between the two of you, and you just let it all out.
“i don't think this is gonna work for us anymore. i’ve been talking to someone else and i've kinda just had some realizations about us and i think we've outgrown this.”
its impossible to read his face as you continue speaking.
“i care a lot about you and i'd love to stay friends, maybe even-”
before you can finish he interrupts you with a soft chuckle.
“you think you're gonna sit me down and kick me to the curb? yea, that’s just not how tonight's gonna go.”
you feel a chill run down your spine at his words, his tone shifting from the warmth you're used to into something colder. your heart begins to race as you realize this isn't going the way you planned.
"luigi, please," you start, but he cuts you off again.
"no, you listen to me," he says, leaning in closer. his eyes, usually so soft and inviting, now hold a glint that makes you want to shrink away. "we've been through this before. you think you want to leave, but you always come back. always."
you shake your head, trying to find your voice. "this time is different. i've changed, we’ve changed"
"changed?" luigi scoffs, his hand suddenly gripping your arm. "you haven't changed. you're still the same person who needs me, who loves me. you're just confused right now. you know you fucking love me.”
your gaze shifts to his lips, pressed into a hard line, and then to his strong jawline.
you want so badly to tell him he's wrong, but he's not. you still love him, and as he's sitting on your couch next to you and as you look at his handsome face, you know exactly why you chose him.
you feel your resolve weakening, your carefully planned words crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. luigi's grip on your arm loosens slightly, his thumb now tracing small circles on your skin. the familiar touch sends shivers through you.
"i..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. you want to tell him he's wrong, that you've moved on, but the lie won't come.
luigi leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "tell me you don't love me," he whispers, his lips barely grazing your ear. "look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this."
you turn to face him, your noses almost touching. his brown eyes are full of anger, hurt, and desire. you open your mouth to speak, to end this once and for all, but no sound comes out.
instead, you find yourself leaning into him, your lips meeting his in a desperate, passionate kiss. your hands tangle in his curls as he pulls you closer, erasing any remaining space between you. the familiar electricity of his touch ignites something within you, and for a moment, all your doubts and reservations melt away.
but as quickly as it began, reality comes crashing back. you break away, gasping for air, your mind reeling. "no," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "no, we can't do this."
luigi's eyes flash with a mix of triumph and frustration. "we already are," he says, his voice low and intense. "you can't deny what's between us. you never could."
he places his hand behind your neck and pulls you close again, his lips brushing yours. you melt into him. god, you missed him so much, his touch, his voice, his body. with every movement of his lips, every stroke of his hand, he was righting his wrongs. his hand trails up your thigh, pushing up your skirt.
the way he touches you feels so nice, and your body responds against your will. his fingers trace patterns on your skin, sending shivers through you. as his hand snakes higher up your leg, you feel an aching need for him.
he breaks the kiss as he gently pulls you onto his lap, his hands planted firmly on your thighs as he places kisses along your jawline and down your neck.
“you’re so perfect for me.” he says, barely a whisper.
“and i know i’m perfect for you too,” he continues, his eyes scanning your face as he says it. he looks so beautiful like this. the golden light of the sunset bathing him in an amber glow, shining through his curls and making his dark brown eyes shimmer.
he finds the hem of your sweater and slowly slips underneath. he runs his large hands across your bare skin skin.
as he begins to lift your sweater, the realization of what's happening hits you, and you place your hands on his chest, prepared to push away from him, but you can't. you hate that he feels so good. you hate that you want him so badly.
you lean forward and kiss him, hard. luigi moans against your lips, and you can feel his erection straining against his jeans.
you break the kiss and begin to lift his sweater, running your free hand over his abs, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. he helps you get his sweater off, and then reaches for your sweater. in one swift movement, he pulls it off, tossing it aside. he pauses, his gaze raking over your exposed skin, before leaning in and planting a kiss on your collarbone.
he cups your breast and starts sucking on it. you bite your lip, trying not to moan.
he stops and looks up at you, his eyes burning with desire.
"god, i've missed this," he breathes.
"i missed you" you admit breathlessly.
you run your fingers through his soft, dark curls, the smell of his cologne intoxicating you as you move yourself back and forth slowly, rubbing yourself along his leg. the thin fabric of your underwear begins to dampen, and the friction only heightens your desire.
you lean in and kiss him, the taste of his tongue in your mouth making you shudder with pleasure. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, the feel of his skin against yours is unreal.
luigi slides his hands up and down your thighs as his mouth finds the delicate skin on the side of your neck.
"look at you, so fucking impatient. riding my leg to get yourself off" he says against your skin.
"he's not fucking you right, is he?" he whispers, his hand creeping under your skirt and finding the wet spot in your panties.
"no," you admit.
"that's too bad," he says, sliding his fingers under the edge of your panties and brushing them against your clit.
you gasp at his touch, grinding yourself against him.
your hips buck at the contact, and you let out a small moan.
"you're fucking soaked for me," he breathes, slipping a finger inside of you.
"luigi, please," you beg, grinding against his hand.
he adds a second finger, and you moan, arching your back and pressing yourself against him.
"god, look at you," he whispers, his voice thick with lust.
"i know he doesn't make you fuckin' sound like this" he says, more intensely this time.
"please luigi, just fuck me."
"not yet." he says, continuing to finger you and using his thumb to rub circles on your clit.
"lu," you whine, squirming and bucking your hips.
"so fuckin' needy," he says, a smirk spreading across his face.
you whimper, biting your lip and grabbing his shoulder, desperately clinging to him.
he keeps working his fingers, and you can feel your orgasm building. you can barely breathe, the feeling of his fingers inside you is so intense.
"fuck, lu," you pant, your nails digging into his skin.
he speeds up his pace, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.
"lu, i'm so fucking close," you say, the words slightly catching in your throat as he sends you over the edge.
you cry out, the sensation overwhelming you. he holds you close, kissing you as you ride out the waves of pleasure.
you rest your head on his shoulder, panting and trying to catch your breath.
"i'm not fuckin' done with you yet." luigi says, gently pushing you off his lap and back onto the couch.
he stands up, and you watch as he unbuckles his belt, pulls off his jeans and boxers, freeing his thick cock. you lick your lips, taking in the sight of him.
he sits back down, and you crawl onto his lap, straddling him. he takes himself in his hand, stroking his length and guiding himself inside of you.
"oh god," you moan, feeling him stretch you.
"that's right," he breathes, his voice low and husky.
he begins to thrust into you, and the feeling is incredible. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair and breathing in his scent.
"fuck," he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you onto him.
you feel the pressure building again, the heat in the pit of your stomach growing with each thrust.
"lu," you whimper, the sensation almost too much to bear.
"tell me," he says, his voice strained. "tell me how much you fucking miss this."
"i miss this so much," you say, your breath ragged.
"tell me," he pants, his rhythm getting faster and more erratic. "tell me you want this, tell me you need this."
"i need this, lu, fuck, i need you," you moan, the heat in your stomach growing.
"say it," he demands, his voice tight and strained.
"i'm yours, lu, i'm fucking yours," you cry, the pressure becoming unbearable.
he moves mercilessly, and with every thrust you feel him stretching you out, your slick spreading up and down his cock. he grabs your ass firmly with both hands, moving you up and down roughly, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room.
"where do you want it, baby?"
"fuck, please cum in me" you beg, your legs wrapping around his torso as he continues using you, roughly gripping your ass as he fucks you.
"good fuckin' girl. want me to fuck a baby into you, huh?" he says breathlessly. luigi groans deeply, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts up into you one final time. you feel him pulsing inside you as he finishes, filling you with his warmth. you come undone, the intensity of the orgasm tearing through you.
he buries his face in your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he releases inside you. you both sit there, breathing heavily, holding onto each other.
he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes, a smile playing at his lips.
"i guess this means i'm not getting rid of you, huh?"
#luigi mangione smut#luigi mangione x reader#luigi mangione#luigi mangione x yn#luigi mangione fanfic#free luigi#real person fiction#free my baby daddy
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obedience | part 2
summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.
warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!
word count: 5.7k
a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)
(read part 1 here if you missed it)
dividers by @saradika
“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”
It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot.
The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.
You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night.
Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.
–
The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.
When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.
You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”
“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.
“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.
Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.
–
A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.
You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.
Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?
And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.
“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.
“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.
“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest.
Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”
You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.
“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.
You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.
A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him.
“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”
You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”
You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.
“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.
“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”
You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.
He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”
You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal.
“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”
It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.
“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”
And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.
Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.
“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.
Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.
“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs.
Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.
“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.
“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.
“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”
Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.
“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.
“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.
“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”
You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.
“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”
“No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him.
“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.
“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock.
On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.
He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”
“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.
He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.
“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.
You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.
“Speak,” he spits again.
“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.
“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?”
You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.
You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.
Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat.
He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.
“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”
You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.
He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.
“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”
Fuck.
The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.
Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.
“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.
You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.
“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment.
“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”
You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”
“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”
He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.
“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”
The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.
“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”
You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy.
Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.
“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.
You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.
“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.
It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.
“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.
“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.
You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.
“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”
You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.
When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer.
He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.
You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.
When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.
“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.
You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.
“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.
You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.
He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”
“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.
“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.
“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.
Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”
You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”
“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.
You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”
He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”
Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought.
“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”
You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.
He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it.
Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.
tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)
#my writing#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#daddy!joel miller#joel miller smut
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I know darling
Colby Brock x Fem!Reader
you sent Colby a lengthy paragraph about all the things you want him to do to you. and he makes everything you sent come true
TW: Dom Colby, p in v sex, fingering (Fem receiving), teasing, video masterbation (from Colby), mentions of Sam joining and watching, face fucking (Fem receiving), fingering, name calling "love, baby, angel, sweetheart, good girl, good bitch, pretty girl, bitch, whore, slut", praise and degradation, cursing, video during it, aftercare, plot twist
I am a firm believer that Colby is into face fucking
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once I started texting the words I wanna say, they wouldn't stop coming. once I felt like I said enough to get him going, I sent it along with a spicy pic of me in his favorite lingerie. and now I wait for his response.
Colby POV
That was one of the scariest things we've ever caught on camera. me, Kris, and Sam decided we had enough and packed up to go home. we all get in the car and wait for the long car ride home.
once we get into a town, I finally have service and I get a shit ton of notifications. the one that caught my eye was the one y/n sent. I see she sent a long paragraph along with a photo. I was expecting a message about how much she misses me. holy shit I was wrong.
what I'm reading is the most spine chilling, boner inducing, and cock throbbing thing I've ever read. the more I read, the more hard I get. I grab my xplr hoodie and cover my lower half, not wanting Sam to see my boner.
we still have a 3 hour car ride back to LA, I'm not gonna make it that long. my breath get harsh and fast. Sam notices and says something. "hey man, you good?" he asks as he hits my arms. "yeah uhm I'm good, just thinking about the stuff that happened earlier."
I'll give it an hour and see if it goes away.
*an hour later*
well it's been an hour and I still have a boner. I roll my eyes and try to think of an excuse.
"hey Sam uh pull over to a gas station, I uhm have to piss" I lie. "I got you man" Sam pulls over to a gas station and I quickly run out of the car and into the bathroom. I sigh as I pull down my pants when an idea popped in my head.
I pull out my phone and start recording.
*a little while later*
I finish and clean myself up as i send the video to y/n.
me: video
me: I hope you enjoy this love
Y/n POV
I hear my phone buzz and I open it without hesitation. I see he sent a video and I watch it from beginning to end.
me: can't wait for you to get home daddy~
I know that name gets him going and I wanna see what happens. not even 5 minutes later, I get another text from him.
colbs<333: god you have no idea what you do to me, angel. when I get home, you better have my favorite outfit on with your head hanging off the side of the bed<3
me: yes sir<33
since I have his location, I can see how far away he is. he's about an hour and a half away from home, so when he gets about 10 minutes away from home, I'll do what he says.
*an hour and a half later*
I get more and more excited when I watch his icon get closer and closer to our house. I decide to get changed into his favorite lingerie and lay down on the bed.
I hear the door open and I hear stuff slam on the ground with fast foot steps coming up the stairs. I quickly put my head off the side of the bed just like he said. the door swings open and I see him with lustful eyes eating me alive.
"goddamn angel, you look gorgeous" he walks closer to me. his rough, calloused hands run all over my body as he ogles me. every movement he makes on my body, I twitch with anticipation.
he plays with my tits as he runs his fingers over my nipples over the lingerie as a whimper elicits from my mouth. I feel his boner on my cheek in his pants, wanting to be let out. I lift my hand up to caress his cock. I wrap my hand around it and barely squeeze it. he groans as he steps back to free his aching cock.
"you ready, princess?" he asks as he places his cock on my lips. I nod vigorously and open my mouth, spit already coating his leaking tip.
"just tap my thigh if you can't breathe" he reassures. I nod as he taps his cock on my tongue a few times before shoving his cock in my throat. I gag but then get used to it.
I let him use my throat for whatever he needs. there's pre-cum and saliva dripping down my chin and my mouth.
his thrusts get more harsh. 'hes about to cum' I think to myself. "gonna.... fuck.. close.." he mutters. he can't even pronounce words. I grab his waist and pull him further into my mouth. "fuck!" he yells, unknowingly I was going to do that.
I feel his cum drip down my throat and chin. I sit up and gather his cum and put it back in my mouth. he does the same with my spit.
his eyes widen for a second, like he has an idea. he pulls out his phone and starts recording.
"oh Sam would love this, wouldn't he?" he teased his fingers on my slit. I can only nod, my mind is cloudy and my eyes dizzy with pleasure. "I need words, pretty girl." he says, curling his fingers up in me. "yes! he would love seeing me like this!" I yell. Colby chuckles at my words.
"seeing you like this. being such a slut for me." his fingers get more and more quick. I know that him and Sam have done something like this in the past, but Sam watching me is so erotic to me.
"go ahead and tell the camera how much of a slut you are. for me and Sam. go on bitch."
"fuck Sam, I want you in me. I want you and Colby to fuck me so hard it hurts to walk. please Sam" I beg with pleasing eyes.
"good bitch" his fingers get more aggressive and he can tell I'm getting close.
he rips his fingers out of me as I'm about to cum. "w-what... why.. please, I want it... wanna cum for you" I plead into the camera.
he grabs my cheeks "only good sluts get to cum. this is what you get for getting me hard in the car. you knew I was with Sam and yet, you still did it. it's like you wanted Sam to know." he coos.
"yes! I wanted Sam to know! I want you both to fuck me!" I whine.
"that's what I thought, you whore" he lines up his cock and slides it up and down my wet folds.
"daddy please I need you." I beg. "fine, only because I'm so fucking hard for you" he rams his cock into me without a second thought.
"why don't you tell Sam what you want him to do to you, hm?" Colby teases. "want.... want you to fuck my face while Colby e-eats me out" my hands cover my face in embarrassment.
he rips my hands from my face "I think Sam would wanna see your pretty face as I fuck you." he pins my hands above my head as he slides his cock in and out of me.
his pace gets faster and his rhythm gets sloppy. my legs wrap around his waist, wanting him closer in me.
he apparently liked that because I feel him twitch in me. "fuck... gonna cum in your pretty pussy, huh? you want me to cum in you, fucking slut"
"shit..... yes yes yes please." I beg more.
his final push in me makes me unravel the knot in my stomach. my back arches as my legs tighten around his waist.
his breath slows as he picks himself up and goes to our bathroom. he runs a washcloth under water and comes back to clean us up.
Colby wore a smirk on his face that I couldn't see. "hey baby, can you get the cameras from downstairs please? I wanna edit some footage from earlier"
"yeah sure" I struggle to go downstairs but I make it through
I turn the corner and there he is…
Sam
he was downstairs this whole time
"uhm uhh... hi?"
"hello beautiful" he says as he stands up and walks towards me. he puts a finger under my chin and makes me look at him "you sounded lovely up there. calling out for me. I hope you meant every word up there because I plan on making those things true. " he whispered in my ear.
his phone goes off. "I wonder what this is" he says sarcastically. he pulls up the video Colby took of me. "I hope I make you sound like this" he kisses your neck and walks out the door.
“fuck”
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this has been in my head for a looooong time
#colby brock x reader#colby brock#x reader#colby#sam and colby x reader#sam golbach#xplr#sam#im feral for these 2#please help#colby brock smut#smut
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stepbro!jj 😩😩😩😩 i’d be playing footsies with him at the breakfast table in the morning, acting all coy like he didn’t bend me over his bed last night
i rlly love the idea of reader being the horny sick n twisted one whilst jj is trying desperately to cling onto his morality <333:
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jj was not nonchalant by any stretch of the word, but now sat at the breakfast table — your cunt still aching from the way he’d fucked you through the night, he was seeming to play it incredibly cool and collected. no trace of a knowing smile or secretive glances, just his regular behaviour, sat reclined in his seat wearing his usual get up and a backwards hat. the dismissal would have maybe hurt if it wasn’t turning you on a little.
“i’m headin’ downtown for that AA meetin’. load of horse shit but ‘least i’m tryin’.” luke maybank chats as he messily spreads butter on his toast at the counter, taking a moment to lick some off his thumb. your mother is also rushing around the kitchen ready to head out on her own shift at work— you’re avoiding eye contact with her the most, more shameful of the acts you’d commit under the shared roof only a few hours prior.
“well, we are all proud anyways.” she praises, looking around at you and jj for contribution. you nod, and jj clears his throat, shuffling closer to the table opposite you on his chair.
“yeah, real proud pops.” you can tell it’s difficult for him to say from the way he looks down at his food as he says it.
“don’t get sappy on me, squirt.” luke’s words come muffled through a cheekful of toast, and soon your mother begins to fire overbearing questions at him about the recovery course he’s taking. as they talk, you zone out — eyes flickering to jj who is spooning up soggy cereal onto a spoon.
things felt very familial during moments like this. the whole family going about their regular morning routines, jj and yourself sat opposite at the table like a regular old brother and sister duo. you knew you were sick in the head from wanting your step brother in the first place, and now you were secretly fucking him — the idea that he was able to sit opposite you without a soul knowing he was balls deep earlier on was turning you on once more.
you glance over at luke and your mother, seeing them wrapped up in their own conversations — and you toe at the entrance of jj’s jeans, running your foot along the inner side of his calf. when he looks up at you through a heavy brow, cheek still full with cereal you can tell he’s warning you to stop — but knowing he couldn’t verbally express this, and that any vision of your feet was obstructed by the long gingham table cloth — you felt obliged to continue. no one even notices when jj winces and you giggle, too stuck in their own conversation.
you manage to stretch your leg to get your foot in his lap, briefly rubbing at his cock before he grips your ankle and throws it off him, angrily licking his lips and tensing his jaw, doing a double take at the parents when they turn their heads, the attention attracted by your whiny and dramatic ‘ow!’
luke scoffs out a laugh, walking towards the kitchen exit, shaking his head and spitting into a tin waste bin by the door. you truly wondered what your mother saw in him. “kids, huh. who’d have ‘em.” he comments before exiting, making jj cringe at the general insinuation that the two of you were in any way related, or kids.
your mother is quick to follow, barely sparing the two of you a glance. “i can drop you off some lunch if you’re going to be all day, i finish early and —” her voice trails off before the two of you hear her yell out a goodbye to you and the door closes. jj barely waits for them to be gone to push heavily out of his chair, letting it scrape on the floor and wander over to your side, gripping your jaw from where he stands beside your seat, forcing you to look up at him.
“do you think this is funny? like — i’m almost certain you got some weird fetish for wanting to be caught but i don’t, alright — quit bein’ so obvious.” he scolds before letting you go, quickly lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair as he wanders to the counter to cool off and pour himself a coffee. he was already dressed, set to meet the pogues a little later whilst you wandered around in tiny pyjama shorts and a thin tank top that made him wanna slap you.
you giggle despite his sternness and push out your chair to follow him, poking him in the back as you speak. “oh c’mon jayj, s’just a little fun. no one noticed anyway. you’re acting like i got under the table n’made out with your dick. not a bad idea for next time actually.” you muse jokingly and he all but slams his coffee mug back down to whip around to face you.
“y’know i can just like, confiscate everything i’ve been doin’ for you. s’not hard to find pussy, and if you wanna keep actin’ like an actual annoying little sister i’m gunna start treating you like one.” he ticks his head, squinting in irritation and your eyes widen in faux offence and fear.
“aw, don’t do that to me jj. i thought you liked playing with me.” you pout, and oddly — despite knowing you were playing games with him, it makes him soften the tiniest bit, shoulders falling a centimetre or so.
“well, look— i do…” he rolls his eyes and you smile. taking your hands, you push your tits together, looking up at him with mocking babydoll eyes.
“yeah, just like playing with your lil sis too much, huh?” you coo and he yanks your hands off yourself, tongue in his cheek — clearly losing his patience a little.
“nah, keep it up. you’re not getting shit from me anymore i’m dead serious.” he raises his voice a little, that southern twang jumping out a little extra and you giggle elatedly at the threat. you spin around, pressing your ass to his crotch and looking over your shoulder.
“nuh-uh, you like this view too much.” you tease before your jaw drops, mocking quiet ‘uh-uh-uh-uh’ moans as you repeatedly thump your ass against him, the blonde watching with a deadpan, unimpressed expression and arms folded over his chest. he goes to say something, but the sudden banging of the front door closing wipes the amused expression off your face quicker than he can and you jump up straight, looking like a deer caught in headlights when your mother walks back through the door.
“forgot my keys.” she shakes her head before her eyes land on the two of you standing near eachother, jj looking smug and you looking guilty. “everything… okay?” she raises an eyebrow at the weird atmosphere.
“yes! yeah everything’s fine.” you squeak, sounding oh so innocent and afraid. jj snorts, turning back around to the counter and continuing to pour his coffee.
“well alright, see you guys later.” she smiles before disappearing once more, leaving you looking bashful.
once she’s gone, jj glances over his shoulder at you and pouts, barely concealing his grin.
“aw, that scare ‘ya, lil sis?”
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“Virgin Blood:” Spawn Astarion x F!Reader, nsfw Loss of Innocence Spice for you, darlings…
Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.6K Loss of virginity
Summary: You’re eager to meet your rogue in the woods, and you can think of no better person to take your innocence than your Vampire Rogue… And doesn’t he just cherish the idea… eager to taste your virgin blood.
Act 1 Romance Retold…
CW: loss of virginity, first time, Praise kink, Astarion takes his time, virginity kink, gentle sex, Astarion more than happy to make you feel all the more beholding to him…
For you, Anonymous sweet thing in my ask box 💞
Ao3 link | Astarion fic Master List
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“I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”
Gods, you hope so too. Your body is on fire, and not just from the battlelust of saving lives.
It is because of him.
His little flirtations that have eroded you, his sweet words and greetings that fill your ear each day. The way his crimson eyes already devour you, as if he can’t get his full of your looks.
And then he bit you.
So intimate and foreign.
And new.
Each time now, your body sings when he feeds, and not just because you can feel your blood dripping down his throat and making him stronger.
You feel seen. Desired. Wanted. He hungers for you and seeks you out. Gods, as if you hadn’t been looking for one to do that for you since you came of age.
Something stirs in your body when you are near him, something wild and untamed. Waiting to be released. Your kind never told you what it was between two lovers, only the lessons you found in nature, the rutting seasons of the earth. That was all you knew of… sex.
But to hear him beckoning you, offering you passion like none other, somewhere quiet for just you and him.
Your body aches… burning. Singing. The blood in your veins pumping wildly. You want so badly to be touched and tasted. But mostly, wanting to be seen.
Wanting him to see more of you. All of you.
So, as the party begins to quiet, you watch your Rogue snatch up some blankets and wine, throwing you a knowing glance that makes your stomach twist and leap.
Gods, he thinks of everything doesn’t he?
Others begin to make their way to sleep, but you step into the woods. Your mind firmly set to give him another gift, and this time, you’re humming in your veins, your nerves crying to be touched. Because you want him to receive this, knowing just how much you will undoubtedly receive in return.
Your footsteps rustle softly in the leaves along the path. You follow that pull in your belly, knowing this is the way he wandered. Knowing that he is close…
That Astarion waits for you.
You pass through the trees, drawing to a stop the moment you see him. Gods, already his pale chest on display. Your mouth waters, your skin grows hot, even though you don’t completely know why.
“There you are,” he purrs, striding to close the distance between you. That handsome face is bright with his own intention. “I’ve been waiting…”
He draws still, a breath away from your body, “…waiting since the moment I saw you, waiting to have you…”
You look into that face, the way he just wants you, pouring his desire out over you, and you are ready to drown in it. “And I want you to have me,” you murmur, a coy, nervous smile dancing on your lips. Hells, you probably look like some innocent little thing. “I want you to have me as no one else has; Astarion…”
“Oh, you sweet little pet,” he croons, his face broadening into a smirk so soft, your stomach quivers. “Do you mean…”
“Yes,” you feel your cheeks hot under that lurid, crimson gaze. “I have never been…”
“Taken?” He offers. “Deflowered?” he adds, a deepening to his grin. “Fucked?”
Oh, it’s not that he’s a vampire spawn that makes him gaze at you with a voracious look in his eyes. It only makes you blush bright red and hot in reply.
“I am… touched to be offered such a gift,” he continues in that thick, honeyed voice, clasping your hands both in his. As he raises them to his lips, you are pulled even closer. Your body tingling to feel his frame, his magnificent form, just barely brushing you. “I am a bit surprised, given how forward you are… how wayward…”
“Perhaps it’s just a good fit, you and I…” you force your voice to lilt, keeping your eyes soft as you meet that insatiable stare. Your heart leaps as he licks his lips, making your hand reach to trace over his chest.
“Mmm, I will make certain it is. This gift, to be the first to know your body… it is one I will cherish… and I’ll make absolute certain you will cherish it too, darling,” his smile is breathtaking, almost as much as the way his own fingers wrap tenderly around your cheek, drawing your face into his so closely, his breath becomes your own.
Slowly he bears his teeth, his gaze raking down your neck into the v cut of your tunic. “Tell me, darling, how long have you been dreaming of this with me, fantasizing our time together as you pleasure yourself…”
Your brow quirks as you struggle to find the meaning of such a sensuous phrase.
“Oh…” he croons, the caressing touch of his hands cresting over your shoulders and drawing down your back. Your confusion ignites a new level of anticipation in him, you can see it twisting over those immaculate, pale features. Then he pulls you flush against him. “You will enjoy tonight, I am sure of it. I will too, there is nothing sweeter, I’m sure, than your first blood, your virgin blood…”
You melt at his words, trembling even before his kiss falls to consume your lips. His fingers are so deft, dexterous and featherlight as they tug the rough linen of your shirt up your body. Bunching it. Letting the night air kiss your skin little by little.
And all the while, his lips work smoothly on yours. Nothing so fast and quick as his bites. No, this is deliberate, controlled. A rhythmic dance that traps you against him and draws you closer.
Before you know it, he breaks from that caress to pull your shirt off completely. You gasp, cheeks hot as he looks you over, the gleam in his eye predacious as he scans your breasts, your skin, drawing his gaze to the band of your breeches.
Those eager lips begin to stray from your mouth, allowing you to finally gasp in the free air. But it’s still a fight, the way your body trembles as he kisses the lingering bite marks on your neck from the other night… drifting even lower to the edge of your collarbone, his breath so cool on your hot and flushed skin.
A moan escapes you, a noise you had never made before. And it makes the vampire chuckle, his lips creeping even lower as he cranes his head. His hands catching your breasts, one in each persistent palm. He massages them, fingertips sweeping over your straining nipples.
Those lips and that tongue replace one set of dexterous fingers, making the same sounds issue from your throat again. Louder. Your body wriggling as it catches on fire, like magma seeping from the earth, it boils in your veins and pools between your thighs.
He’s suckling on you, your hands shaking as you long for them to touch him too, running them into his hair. With a sharp breath, he releases one breast only to rub his tongue through the valley of your chest to trap the other one. Worshiping it with equal zeal.
Gods, you feel strange beneath your navel. Full and hot and swollen. And then, another sensation hits you as you shift on your toes.
You’re… wet. Your breeches are soaked. And it makes you shift again, more uncertain.
“You feel it, can’t you?” he raps as he lifts his head, raising to his full height to look down at you. “The way your body has awoken. You stir, and crave something.” The corner of his mouth quirks just once. “Poor little sweet thing, I promise you, you’ll like what’s coming. It’ll make it all feel better.”
Those fingers, so quick and light, pull the laces of your breeches apart before you even know what’s happening. “May I?” he whispers, running two fingers up the inside of your thigh. “You’ll need these removed, you know…”
You nod vigorously, a giggle in your throat as he grins, that glint of his teeth just peeking from his lips. But he doesn’t pull the fabric from your skin. No, he slides those fingers harder into the soft buckskin over your thighs. Then, he steals their pressure between your legs. His brows canting to feel you where you’re soaked. “My, my…” he purrs, “this will be most enjoyable. Your body already knows just what to do,” his lips twitch as he presses them against your lips again, “and so do I.”
Boldness sweeps through you, assured that you have chosen well. He will make this blissful. Make you feel like the sweet treasure you are to him.
Agonizingly slow, he strokes you there, those fingers so eager for action in the field turn all their talents now to teasing your body. You turn away, unsure as he caresses where you’re wet.
“Don’t be shy with me, darling,” he whispers, “you’re doing so wonderfully, you know.” Those hands pull your breeches down, letting them settle at your ankles. “Here,” he breathes as he grabs your hand where it still presses on the smooth coolness of his chest. “You’ll let me show you, won’t you?”
With how silken, how assured and pleased he sounds, you can’t manage a breath in reply. Only a nod and a moan as those damp fingers take your hand. He molds you to his grasp, guiding your fingers into your own arousal. It’s slippery, hot… and then your hands now slip between your folds…
You moan so loudly, your thighs shaking as he presses your fingers deeper into you.
“There now,” he purrs, lips caressing against the curve of your ear. “So wet and slick, you’re a wonder, my sweet little virgin. Your body’s already eager for me, and you don’t even know it yet.”
“Please,” you raps, pulling your hands back towards the apex of your thighs. “Show me.”
“I’ll do so much more than that, darling…”
It’s so quick, the way he’s picked you up in his arms to lay you down in the soft grass. In an instant, he’s shuffled off your breeches, the air wafting over your body, completely bared and entirely hot despite the little breezes of night.
Astarion draws his body to cover yours, so slowly, controlled, as if he plans every little graze of his skin across yours. “Sweet little thing,” he croons as he traps your lips in a quick, gentle kiss. “You’re all mine aren’t you?”
“Mmhmm,” you hum, the feeling of his body lowering all its weight on you, sending shivers down your spine and sparks over your vision. “All yours…” you moan between his full and twitching lips.
“I do so love the sound of that, darling…” With one last little peck on your lips, he begins caressing your body, kissing and sucking your breasts once more before trailing down over your belly. It rises and falls with every heaving, nervous breath you take. “Don’t you worry,” he whispers, “the more you give in to how I’ll make you feel, the more delicious this will be.” He catches your hand again in his to slink it back where you are on absolute fire. That slick between your legs. “Now, close your eyes, and just touch…”
He brings your hands to your folds, dipping your fingertips within. So wet and soft and hot, swollen you can tell, as he draws your fingers at the crest of your folds. “There,” he presses, the little nub beneath your touch so hard, the contact instantly making your muscles clench and burn. “Should the need arise as you think of me, as you remember tonight, as you wait eagerly for the next time you come to my bed… you can touch yourself here for your own pleasure, darling…”
Your body takes over, the rhythmic tracing of his fingers guiding yours… it’s sorcery. Magic. Like fire and ice in your veins as he circles your fingers and his over that little hard bud. You flutter your eyes open, watching as he stares at you, his gaze catching yours with all the hunger and pride and desire you could wish to see. Then, those perfect lips twitch in a mischievous smirk. Already crouching between your legs, he’s licking his lips, lowering his head towards your body as his fingers still tug at you unrelentingly.
So cool and wet, you feel his tongue lapping along with your fingers. Your hips buck out of your control, muscles clenching as one possessed, but it is not in pain. It is flame and ruin and ecstasy that flood along your muscles. Spurred on by his kissing and sucking and lapping between your thighs.
That feeling crashes through you, blinding you as your back arches, your scream tearing from your throat as you writhe and spasm. Your hand goes limp between your legs as you pant.
With a laugh, he places a kiss on your soaking palm before resting it tenderly on your panting belly. His tongue laps up your seam, you can feel the flush of that slick cooling in the breeze and drying on your skin. “Oh my sweet,” he rasps, glancing from between your thighs. “You are doing so well, such pleasure for your first time,” he giggles, “don’t let it go to your head. The best is yet to come…”
You mewl, his two dexterous fingers finding their way inside you now, playing in and out. Instantly, that need reignites, consuming your flesh. Your hands reach for him… for any part of him. You find his arm, his own muscles bunched and bulging as you feel him working inside you. You feel him shifting lower, kissing the sticky skin of your inner thigh, his hand slipping another long finger inside your walls, making your muscles burn as they stretch. “Shhh,” he soothes as you groan and pant and squirm at the pressure. “You’re such a good girl, so wet and eager, this will be delicious. I doubt you will even bleed once I’m inside you…”
He chuckles, watching your body, your eyes wide and wild as that wave begins to wash over you again… the heat, the throes of pleasure you now realize come from his touch. And then he slips his thumb back over that aching little nub again.
“Gods, Astarion,” you keen, your voice rough as you tear apart. Those fingers inside you… your whole body clenches on them, the pressure, the fullness sending you careening into your climax even harder this time. Breathless, you can only make little incoherent sounds, a little louder as he insists on still pumping his touch inside you even as you come.
“Breathe, my sweet,” he smiles, “you’re going to do wonderfully.”
The chill of his touch, his whole body leaves you for a moment. But you can’t look, can’t even open your eyes as you still drift down from your pleasure.
You feel stretched and limp and warm… the gentle embrace of bliss and pleasure you had heard ballads about. You rise up on your arms, and for a moment, that warm comfort runs cold in your veins.
You see him. Naked. Breeches removed as he strokes his cock in his hand. Looking down at you where he stands. Those crimson eyes almost glow in the moonlight. But you barely glance into his face, knowing it’s hungry and needy and salacious.
No, your eyes are mesmerized by his length, so much longer than you had thought, erect and pale. You watch it twitch as he rubs himself slowly. “Shhh,” he soothes from above you, “come here, my darling. I promise you it will only hurt a bit…”
You sweep your legs beneath you, kneeling before him. His fingers caress your face. He takes a deep breath, his belly filling as his cock twitches to see you so close. “Touch me,” he whispers the instruction, your hands joining his as you feel him. So hard, smooth skin stretched over something so unyielding. Etched with pale veins that darken slightly beneath his already pale skin… you run your fingers over it as his own hand stills near its base.
Sweeping your thumb over that thick, blunted head, you make him groan. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with lust in his throat. “Soon, my pet, I’ll teach you to pleasure me in return, but tonight…” he breathes heavily, dropping to his knees with you, “tonight is about your pleasure, your deflowering as I claim your innocence my sweet.” His lips twitch, “which I am most eager to do… a gift I am forever thankful for…”
His eyes glint with intent, possession and pride, his mouth descending to capture yours again. Those powerful arms hug you tightly to his chest, that hardened cock prodding into your belly, twitching each time your mouth moves with the rhythm of his kiss.
Slowly, he lays you back into the grass, those arms that have snapped your enemies in half cradling you gently against his body. One hand slides between you, ghosting that chilling touch between your thighs, the other presses your cheek in his palm, keeping your lips trapped against his.
Then, you feel it, something thicker and harder pressing into that still molten slick between your legs. Inch by inch, he enters you, the roll of his hips against yours almost imperceptible. “Shh,” he hushes you, another caress of those full lips against yours. “You’re so good, darling…”
A bit more, your muscles burn as he slides, that slick coating him, letting his cock inside you little by little. You groan, your muscles clenching at the thickness. And he only laughs and shushes you again. “Easy now, darling, I promise. Those stories of virgins bleeding are only with bad lovers, but I will only ever make you bleed in other ways, other… more delicious ways….” He catches your lower lip in his fangs and bites down, a little nip as pain shoots through you. You groan… hardly noticing that in that moment, he’s sheathed himself between your thighs completely.
Buried deep in your throbbing channel.
“Hells below…” you groan, a wriggle of your hips as you feel the pressure easing. Burning and not in pain. That same sort that consumed you already, only now… all the stronger. “Astarion,” you look into his eyes, how they smile at you, narrowed and delighting.
“I told you darling,” he purrs, a slight movement of his hips, dragging that cock a bit out, a bit in as your mouth hangs open, “I told you I would make certain we are a good fit…”
You groan, not at his words, at the way he begins to thrust into you. Slowly, consistently, letting your body open to accept him. His mouth still hovers over yours, his breath filling your mouth, the taste of your blood still on your tongue and his as he catches it in his kiss.
“Gods,” he groans as your body begins that journey higher, driven by every thrust inside you, the heat multiplying, the clenching of your every muscle catching all the more on him inside you. “You tight, little, innocent thing…” he pants, “you’re going to be the ruin of me.” You feel his lips twisting, smirking against you, his breath coming heavily now too. His arms on either side of you shake, those hips, his body, driving into you faster. You wrap your legs around his waist, your own instincts taking hold, wanting him deeper, wanting more of him thrusting inside.
He groans as he slides to fill you completely, “Good girl,” he purrs his praises again into your mouth. Groans and thrusts consume you, the slide of his body on yours transports you… until you feel nothing that is not him.
It takes you, that press of his hips, that drag of his cock between your walls, you spill into that climax, the oblivion of twitching heat. Your mouth hanging open to keen. His cock pulls all the harder as your body clenches. Hitching, fucking, slamming with everything he’s got inside you, until he’s groaning too, gasping and whsipering in silken tones just how good you are… how tight and perfect….
You feel him inside you, gripped so hard, pulsing as that slick drips from inside. His hands cradle your cheek again, the full weight of his body lowering, blanketing you, pressing you into the earth. “See… wonderful…” he pants, another kiss against your lips, longer, tender. “Something to cherish between us forever…”
He slips from inside you, making you arch and groan at the release. Your thighs shake, even as he lowers to lay beside you, rolling you to lay in his arms. To rest your head in the crook of his shoulder.
A single finger traces your neck, his head lifting to look down your body beside him. “You see, sweet thing, not a drop of blood… well,” he chuckles, “not yet anyway.” Those smirking lips caress over the throbbing vein in your neck. “I would so love a drink of your not-so-virgin blood now…”
“Yes,” you tilt your head, your voice is sultry, heavy in your throat as you keep your eyes meeting his heavy-lidded gaze. “And then, can we… again?”
His brows raise, delighted, genuine surprise lifting those sharp features of his handsome face. “I would love nothing more,” he croons. “So addicted to me already are you?” A single laugh punctuates his words. “Perhaps this worked out better than I could have imagined,” he speaks, almost to himself, that devious, desirous smirk on his lips for a moment before his fangs bite into your skin.
Drawing that first, no-longer- virgin blood.
#astarion smut#astarion romance#astarion spoilers#astarion baldurs gate#baldurs gate astarion#astarion fanfic#astarion fic#baldur’s gate astarion#baldur's gate 3 astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#astarion#astarion ancunin#vampire spawn#astarion x female reader#astarion x female tav#astarion x f!reader#astarion x you#reader x astarion#baldurs gate smut#baldur’s gate iii#baldurs gate#baldursgate3#baldur gate 3#baldur’s gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate#baldur‘s gate#baldur's gate 3#baldur’s gate spoilers
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Munch
Pairing: Virgin!Bucky x f!reader
Summary: Bucky gets his first taste
Warnings: Angst in the beginning (mentions of Hydra and potential abuse), smut (oral f!receiving, fingering), Bucky humps the bed, sub!bucky, mommy kink ( I don’t know what came over me), aftercare, slight overstimulation, no use of Y/N
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: Not me disappearing. Oops. Special thanks to @bucknastysbabe for proof reading and edits. Part of the Virgin!Bucky series of one shots but can be read alone
Next to you in bed, Bucky was twisting and turning. He agreed for you to sleep over in his room after this week's movie night. Ever since the night you both ‘watched’ When Harry Met Sally, Bucky had been acting weirdly. At first you thought that maybe he was just embarrassed; it was his first sexual experience after all. But he hasn’t looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds before blushing and turning away.
It had been almost two weeks since that night, and now you’re starting to get worried that you pushed him too far. What if he wasn’t ready for you to see him like that? What if he didn’t want you to touch him but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying no? Did you violate his trust? You worked so hard to get him to trust you, to be the person he can always turn to.
You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you forced his hand. After so many years of not having any choices, or any control of his body, maybe Bucky got used to seeing himself as a toy, an object to be used and not as his own being, entitled to saying no if he didn’t want something. “Did I do something, Buck?” It comes out as a whisper, but he catches it with his super hearing.
Bucky’s entire body freezes. “No,” is all he says, looking up at the ceiling in the dark. He doesn’t know how to stay still around you. Not when his brain is replaying the events from a few weeks ago, happened in the very same bed he is laying in. How fucking good you made him feel, how pretty you looked, and how he’s been fucking himself almost every night since, dreaming about you.
Bucky has no idea that you think you’ve pushed him too far. If anything, he wants more. He wants you to blow him again, wants to eat you out, and above all, he wants you to take his virginity. He craves for you to be his first and only, to corrupt him, show him every dirty thing possible, teach him how to fuck. But he doesn’t know how to ask for it.
“Is this about what happened a few weeks ago? I need you to tell me if I crossed a line and made you feel like you had to say yes.” You need to know if you did something he didn’t want, make sure that he feels comfortable enough to set boundaries. You also don’t need to clarify what incident you are referring to. The two of you haven’t done anything near that intense since.
Bucky’s eyes widen and he flips onto his side to look at you, the light of the moon showing how glassy your eyes are. “No, Doll! I wanted that to happen, I promise! It’s not that.” With his metal hand, he pulls you into his chest, needing you close to him. He can’t believe you would think that he didn’t want you to suck his dick. Bucky chokes up a little at how much you care, not used to warmth and care for him as a person.
Hydra cared about his physical health, making sure he was ready for the next battle, that he was strong enough to carry out his mission, not him, never him. You, on the other hand, are right here in his arms scared that you coerced him, because you care for him.
“Then what is it? I feel like I’ve done something. You’ve hardly looked at me these past two weeks.” You pull away enough to look him in the eyes, seeing his blush.
“Oh, doll, this is so embarrassing.” You reach up and cup his face with your hands, silently encouraging him to proceed. “It’s not because I didn’t want you to,” his eyes leave yours, “you know.” A small chuckle leaves your lips at his shyness. “It’s because that’s all I’ve been thinking about, and more.” The end of his sentence comes off in a whisper, not intending for you to hear.
A weight comes off your chest and you laugh, much to Bucky’s chagrin. “Honey, that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” At his frown, you kiss his nose, then his cheeks, before landing a chaste kiss to his pouting lips, giggling in between each peck. “You had me scared. And here you were just being a little horn dog.”
“It’s not funny.” Bucky buries his head into your neck while you continue to laugh; however, you feel his smile. After a minute he pops his head back up, “Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.”
You both laugh for a while until you remember his sly, ‘and more’ comment. You find his shyness adorable, but you want to corrupt this man, if he’ll let you of course, so you feel compelled to pry about his tiny admission. “What else were you thinking about doing? With me”
Bucky groans, face still buried in your neck. “What do you mean?” He decides to play coy, knowing that it won’t work. Your hand goes to his hair and you lightly tug on it, pulling his head up. A choked groan leaves Bucky’s lips and he grinds his hips against your stomach. At the look on your face, he feels like he could cum right there, and he feels such a deep and powerful urge to be good for you, to do whatever you want him to.
“I wanted to do what you did to me… on you.” His cheeks are as red as a tomato, and you feel your own arousal pool in your panties. Evidently, Bucky could smell your wetness as his eyes darkened.
“You wanna eat me out, honey? You wanna try to eat pussy for the first time?” You still have your grip on his hair, and you can feel how hard his cock is from where he’s grinding against you. He nods his head, only to have you pull on his hair, “Use your words like a big boy and tell me.”
“Yes, mommy. I wanna eat you out, but I don’t know how. I need mommy to teach me.” Your eyes widen at the title but Bucky doesn’t seem to realize, eyes foggy and mindlessly humping you. Poor baby had dropped headfirst into sub-land.
“Don’t worry, honey, mommy will teach you. Such a good boy for using your words.” Bucky whines as you pull away from him to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, hips chasing any type of friction they can. “If you want to eat mommy out, honey, you have to let me move.”
After turning the lamp on, you kneel on the bed, gesturing for Bucky to follow, which he does without hesitation. “Bucky, are you okay with this? I need to make sure this is something that you want.” You stop Bucky from laying you down when his only answer was a gentle, “Yes mommy.” You need him to be present when he consents and when you get him to look you in the eyes, see the fog behind his eyes clear up some, then you accept his consent, knowing that this is something that he is okay with.
You let him lay you down on the bed, with him in between your legs. “Take mommy’s clothes off, honey.” Immediately, Bucky goes to take your shorts off, taking your panties off with them, feeling the cool air hit your slick. You could feel your clit pulsing at the sight of Bucky right next to your cunt.
“Mommy, your pussy is so pretty. Can I lick it, please?” You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hips are rocking against the bed.
“Not yet, honey. First, I want you to use your hands, okay?” You could tell how excited he was, and how confused. “Touch mommy’s clit with your thumb.” He was a little over enthusiastic and was a little too hard, making you wince and your hips jerk, but you couldn’t blame him - the poor thing was clueless.
“A little lighter, just like that, good boy. Now rub it in circles, shit, uh huh.” Bucky was watching you like a fucking hawk, torn between watching your face contort or watching the way your clit was throbbing and slick was seeping out of your hole. He was salivating at the thought of having his first taste of you; your smell alone could have him cumming on command.
“Do you feel good, mommy?” He needed your confirmation. His cock was harder than ever pushed up against the bed. He knew that he should slow his hips down, but it was like he was watching the sexiest porno ever, eyes drawn to the slick leaving your pussy, how you were drenching the sheets underneath you.
“Feels so good, honey. Now I want you to use your index finger and put it inside real gentle.” Bucky was absolutely incredible at following directions and reading your body, seeing what you were responding to. “Curl your finger, fuck, good boy! Use your mouth now, on mommy’s clit.” Bucky whines, he wants to be your good boy so fucking bad.
At your direction, Bucky latches onto your pulsing clit, moaning at his first taste, and holy hell, Bucky feels his cock twitch and he knows he's about to cum. He flattens down on the bed, humping faster, his moans match yours in volume. Pride blossoms in his chest - he’s making you feel good. He’s being a good boy.
His balls pull up tight to his body, but Bucky cant fucking stop, and he cums in his boxers and all the way to the sheets. Ropes and ropes of his cum shoot out, but he’ll be fucking damned if he leaves your pussy. Every groan leaving him goes straight to your clit, and you’re reeling with pleasure. Men who had twice the experience than Bucky couldn’t give you half the pleasure he has.
He alternates between sucking and licking, watching to see which you like more, bringing his other finger to your entrance, now using two fingers and his mouth, more feral than ever to pleasure you, all the while his hips are still rocking against the bed. “Keep going, just like that, Bucky.” There is no way that Bucky could stop now, not when he hasn’t seen you cum. He’s in his own world at this point, eyes closed, hips still grinding against the bed, listening to the way your pussy is sucking his fingers back in, feeling your thighs shake around him, fucking tasting your slick like it’s water.
Each time he moans into your pussy, he feels your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your hips start to chase his mouth, wanting more. “Bucky, I’m gonna cum! Please don’t stop! Make mommy cum!” Bucky wants you to cum more than anything, he needs it like its air.
He wants to speed up his ministrations, but he knows that’s not what you want. Instead he speeds his hips up, feeling his second orgasm building. His movements are much easier with the surplus of cum that’s already on the bed. Distantly, you hear the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts, but your orgasm is about to hit you and you can’t focus on anything.
His free hand reaches up to grab you, grounding himself, desperate to make you cum before he does. He wants to beg and plead for you to cum but he can’t tear himself away from your cunt. If he could, Bucky would stay between your legs for the rest of his life. He can feel you pulsing around him and he knows you're going to cum soon.
When his eyes find yours it’s over for the both of you. You cum first, crying out his name, thighs clamping around his head, suffocating him. The sight of you cumming has Bucky finishing immediately. You look so fucking gorgeous, slight frown pulling at your lips, lines forming inbetween your eyebrows, it’s heaven on earth for him. His hips spasm and somehow even more cum than before bursts from his tip, making an even bigger mess.
Bucky doesn’t pull away from your pussy, he cant, it’s fucking addictive. He feels your slick running down to his wrist, and the taste of your cum is driving him insane. Only when you push him away does Bucky leave your pussy. “Did I do good, mommy?” He groans when he licks his fingers. Both of you are panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.
You pull him up and let him rest his head on your chest. “You did so good for me, I’m so proud of you, honey. You made mommy feel so good.” You feel how he relaxes into your chest, all the while you whisper to him, letting him know how good he was and how much you love him.
After a few minutes, Bucky begins to wiggle around, the cum in his boxers becoming uncomfortable. You have to move him, going to the bathroom and getting a damp cloth to clean him up with. “Honey, can I take your pants off and clean you up?” At his blush you add, “It’s okay, honey, mommy just wants to make you feel better, nothing to be embarrassed about.”
He lets you take his boxers off and you clean him off as gently as you can, trying to avoid the overstimulated tip of his cock. You throw his soiled underwear in the hamper and give him a new pair to put on. Climbing back into bed, Bucky goes straight to your chest, cuddling to you. “Go to bed, honey. Mommy’s right here.” Bucky falls asleep, feeling safe and protected in the arms of his best girl.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky imagine#bucky smut#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#sebastian stan x reader
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𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹
synopsis: After he hears of your low test score, Veritas and his bad temper get the better of him and especially you.
tags: degradation, harsh language, explicit, spanking, edging, semi-dubcon, penetration
wrd cnt: 0.7k
a/n: this was a request and LORD did i love writing it
You watch as Veritas paces back and forth in front of you, his expression dark. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as he clenches and unclenches his fists and rubs his temple, still fuming over your disappointing exam score.
'How could you be so careless?' he growls, stopping in front of you and looming over your small form. 'You know how important these tests are. And yet’ he chuckles, ‘yet you still, manage to fail.'
You hang your head, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as his words cut deep. You've always struggled with tests, and his high expectations only make it harder.
'I'm sorry,' you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. 'I'll do better next time, I promise.'
But Veritas doesn't seem to hear you. Instead, he grabs a hold of your chin and forces you to look up at him, his eyes blazing with an intense mixture of anger and desire.
'You'll do better, hm?' he sneers. 'I'll make sure of it.'
Before you can even react, he's pushing you down on the couch, his strong hands holding you in place as he roughly yanks up your skirt. You let out a small whimper as he tears off your panties, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.
'Please,' you beg, your voice quivering with fear and arousal. 'Don't be so harsh-!” Your cut off, feeling his large hand take a smack at your ass.
Veritas only scoffs, his fingers roughly parting your folds as he begins to circle your clit. You gasp at the sudden sensation, your back arching off the cushion as he continues to tease and torment you.
'You think this is harsh?' he growls, his fingers moving faster and faster. 'You have no idea.'
You cry out as he edges you closer and closer to the brink, your body trembling with need. But just as you're about to reach your peak, he stops, leaving you panting and desperate.
'Beg for it,' he commands, his voice low and dangerous. 'Beg for me to let you come.'
'Please, Veritas,' you whimper, your hands clenching the sheets as you plead with him. 'Please let me come. I need it so badly.'
But he only smirks, his fingers beginning to move again, edging you closer and closer to the edge until you're sobbing with frustration.
'Please, I can't take it anymore,' you beg, your voice broken and desperate. 'Please, I'll do anything. Just let me come.'
And with a cruel twist of his fingers, he pulls them completely out of you. But even as you come down from your lack of high, Veritas isn't finished with you.
He pulls off his own pants, his cock hard and ready as he positions himself between your legs. You can feel the heat of him as he presses against you, and you whimper as he enters you, taking you roughly and without mercy.
'I’ll make sure you remember this,' he growls, his hips slamming against yours as he thrusts deep inside you. 'And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you never forget it.'
You cry out as he fucks you, his movements harsh and unyielding as he takes his fill of your body. And even as you beg him to stop, even as you plead for mercy, he only laughs, his cock pulsing inside you as he reaches his own peak.
'Only smart girls know what’s good for them,' he growls again, his seed spilling deep inside you as he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. ‘You’ve got some work to do.'
You lie there, panting and exhausted, your body spent and trembling from the force of your orgasm. And as Veritas pulls out of you, leaving you empty and sore, you can't help but wonder if you'll ever be able to live up to his expectations.
But even as the doubts and fears creep in, you can't deny the way your body responds to his touch, the way you crave his dominance and control. And as you curl up in his arms, his warmth surrounding you and comforting you, you know that no matter what, you'll always belong to him.
And with a contented sigh, you drift off to sleep, your dreams filled with the promise of more punishment and pleasure to come.
☾⋆。𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆。𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆。𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆。𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆。𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆。𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆。𖦹
whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.
#jo’s posts#hsr smut#dr ratio smut#dr ratio#dr ratio hsr#hsr dr ratio#hsr veritas#veritas smut#veritas#veritas ratio#veritas x reader#veritas fanfic#dr ratio fic
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Twisted Royalty ~ HHJ
WORD COUNT: 4k
GENRE: established relationships, cute, fluffy, a little angst, i hope this is okay, i didn’t have him kidnap her as i had no idea of a way to get it to end happy if he did T_T i’m sorry
PAIRING: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
Hyunjin hated this sort of thing, he hated it and yet he'd willed himself to come along for one reason and one reason alone.
You.
He knew you'd be here tonight and so he forced himself to dress in his finest suit and got dressed up for you. The grand ball room he was stuffed in was filled with representatives from both the Sun Kingdom and Lunaris Kingdom - his own Kingdom.
The air buzzed with tension, each hushed conversation weaving a sense of unease around everyone. No one knew exactly why they were there, just that a meeting had been called and that was never to be ignored. Hyunjin's eyes scanned over the crowd again to find you and he smiled when he saw you. Standing in a ball gown you seemed to hate - which you did and he knew that. He knew everything that there was to know about you.
You stood beside your brother, Prince Felix, your eyes sweeping over the faces of those who had gathered for this pivotal meeting, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other and glanced up at your brother, whispering something. No doubt asking if you could leave but Hyunjin knew Felix wouldn't let you, not yet. The meeting was nothing like the others that were in it's place before it.
It was going to be a lengthy negotiation; it was a chance to end the long-standing conflict between your kingdoms.
"Please! Sit!" Felix announced as people sat down along the great table, Hyunjin's eyes were on you the whole time as you nervously sat on the left of your brother. Quickly moving Hyunjin made sure his seat was across from yours. Anything to get even a little bit closer to you without seeming suspicious.
As the meeting commenced you did your best to appear interested in everything that was being spoken about but the truth was you had no idea. Slowly your gaze drifted across the table and landed on him—Prince Hyunjin of the Lunaris Kingdom. It had been years since you last saw him, but the sight of him was as striking as ever and had your heart racing outside of your chest. There was something about him that made you want to throw caution to the wind and jump into his arms but you forced yourself to look down at the table. Hyunjin was seated at the table beside Felix and directly opposite you, his posture relaxed, yet there was a palpable energy radiating from him. Glancing back up for a final look Hyunjin caught your gaze, and you felt a jolt of recognition pass between you. His eyes widened slightly, and for a fleeting moment, the bustling room seemed to fade into the background and he sent you a smile. Despite the composed exterior he projected, you noticed the subtle signs of his nervousness—the way his fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, something only you seemed to notice. It was as if he was struggling to maintain the mask of calm he wore so expertly.
Your heart raced, mirroring the anxious energy you sensed from him. Memories of past encounters surfaced in your mind—moments when you had caught glimpses of a softer side beneath his hardened exterior. It was clear to you that Hyunjin wasn't cold-hearted like many people had told you in the past, he was just worried about his Kingdom. You had always felt that there was more to him than the war-hardened prince your people feared.
Felix leaned in, breaking your trance and sending your eyes down onto the table again.
“Ready to begin?” he asked quietly, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of tension. He followed your gaze to Hyunjin, then looked back at you with a knowing expression. It was his job as a big brother to know what you were up to at all times - or so he said it was.
“Yes,” you replied, drawing in a breath to steady yourself. The weight of your responsibilities pressed upon you, you knew you were supposed to pay attention to everything but it was hard. Especially when no one even knew why the two Kingdoms were at war anymore.
The stories had long been twisted and no one knew the true reason behind any of it anymore.
The meeting unfolded with formalities and strategic discussions and you did your best to at least appear interested to make your brother feel better. But as the representatives spoke, you felt Hyunjin’s gaze on you more than once, a subtle reminder of the connection that seemed to vibrate between you. His presence was like a magnetic force, pulling your thoughts back to him even as you focused on the matters at hand.
You felt yourself drawn to him, unable to look away even if you wanted to. You watched as he listened intently, his eyes scanning the faces around the table. When he spoke, his voice was measured and authoritative, yet you noticed the moments his gaze flicked back to you, the way his expression softened ever so slightly. You could sense his anxiety and his uneasiness towards all of this and Hyunjin didn't know if he hated you for that or not yet.
Ever since your first meeting together he'd done everything he could to learn everything about you. Your hobbies, favourite food, your routine, everything he could find out he wanted to find out and he had. For some reason you were stuck in his head and he was obsessed with you.
All because you seemed to be warm toward his people when no one else had been before. It was years ago now, he'd bought his people to see your Kingdom and to try and convince your brother to help him and you were there.
You took some of the children and took them to relax in the play area, giving them warmth and kindness none of them had ever experienced in their lives before.
The meeting was as they usually were... useless. No one could agree to any of the negotiations leading to everyone taking a long break and you did what you always did and ran to the gardens. They were your own little safe space, somewhere you could go to get away from everything and everyone that was talking about you and not to you.
You wandered along the winding paths, breathing in the sweet scent of roses and jasmine filling your nose as you tried to will yourself to relax. The sound of birds chirping overhead was soothing, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget the responsibilities waiting for you inside the castle walls and you let out a deep breath. For one moment you wished you weren't a princess, just a girl with no responsibilities.
As you sat in a secluded corner of the garden, you heard footsteps behind you and you could feel your heart racing. No one knew about this place except for your brother and some of the guards who had been forced to come and find you.
Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Prince Hyunjin and your breath caught in your throat a little. The sight of him took you by surprise, and your heart skipped a beat. He stood a few paces away, the sunlight catching the glint in his eyes as he regarded you with a mixture of caution and something else—something softer.
“Princess YN,” he greeted, his voice a blend of formality and familiarity. There was a hint of hesitation in his stance as if he wasn’t sure how you would react to his presence.
"I didn't mean to interrupt your private time," He finally said before you shook your head at him.
“Prince Hyunjin, I just...wasn't expecting anybody to join me. I didn't know anyone else knew of this corner of the gardens,” you replied, inclining your head slightly for him to join you on the bench across from you. Hyunjin shakily took a seat, he never would have followed you before but something just forced him to tonight.
He found himself wanting to check on you, to make sure you were okay after the hellish meeting that had just happened.
“I just needed a moment to clear my head after the meeting...The gardens seemed like the perfect place for that," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. It wasn't a whole lie, he thought to himself. It was true he wanted some time to clear his head but the whole gardens was only because of you.
You nodded, understanding all too well the weight of the decisions that had been discussed earlier. The path you were on had the potential to change the fate of your kingdoms, and the gravity of it all was not lost on you.
"I just wish there was a way we could end all of the fighting," You breathe out, finding yourself able to open up to him with ease. Hyunjin leaned onto his knees.
“I have an idea as to what could help...But I wanted to speak to you about it before I suggested it to your brother or the rest of the representives.” His sincerity caught you off guard and you stared into his eyes. His eyes were softened as you searched them. Despite the political tension between your families, there was something genuine about him, something that had always intrigued you.
“What did you wish to suggest?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.
Hyunjin hesitated for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. He had to be careful with this, it would either bring you to him or push you further away.
“I know our kingdoms have been at odds for a long time, and the meeting today was a step toward something better. But I wanted to tell you that my intentions... my interest in peace is genuine. I hope you know that.” His words carried a weight that went beyond mere diplomacy, and you could see the earnestness in his eyes, you nodded your head at him. There was no doubt in your mind that Hyunjin wanted there to be peace between the kingdoms.
“I believe you,” you said softly, feeling the tension ease slightly. “I’ve seen the way you’ve advocated for your people and mine. It’s clear you want what’s best for both kingdoms.” A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of blooming flowers between you and you took in a deep breath, letting the flowers relax you. At that moment, it was as if the garden existed in its own world, a place where the burdens of leadership could be set aside, even if just for a while.
Hyunjin seemed to relax at your words, his shoulders losing some of their tension.
“Thank you, Princess. I’ve admired your strength and kindness for some time now. It’s part of why I suggested what I did during the meeting. I truly believe that unity could bring lasting peace.” His admission took you by surprise, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sincerity in his voice.
"But my sisters are too young for Marriage," You told him but he shook his head at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"The unity would be between me and you...your highness," Your heart practically lept into your throat at the thought of it. The idea of marriage had been a shock initially you hadn't wished your sisters to marry for the sake of peace and yet now when it was you? You weren't sure how to feel, but seeing Hyunjin here, in this moment, made it seem less daunting.
“I need time to think about it as does my brother...It's not something that can be easily said and done,” you replied, your voice steady but gentle.
“This is a decision that affects more than just us.” You finished as you watched him. It wouldn't just be a marriage, there would need to be an heir produced to prove that this marriage was real and something that would provide peace for both Kingdoms. He nodded, understanding in his gaze.
“Of course. I would expect nothing less. Just know that whatever you decide, I will respect your choice.” Silence settled over the garden, comfortable and familiar. For the first time, you saw Hyunjin not just as a prince of a rival kingdom but as a person, complex and sincere. In the quiet of the garden, you both found a sense of peace, a connection that promised the potential for change.
"Before you make your decision...I would love for you to come and visit the Kingdom."
"Of Lunaris?" Your voice cracked a little. You'd heard stories of his Kingdom, of what it used to be but it was nothing like that anymore - or so you'd been told.
"One week. You'll have your own half of the palace and I won't bother you, I'll have someone escort-" He began to ramble a little, something he did when he was nervous and you shook your head,
"It is not that I don't wish to be alone with you, Prince Hyunjin." you placed your hand gently on his thigh,
"Would I be safe there? Would this be accepted by my brother?"
"I would burn anyone that even looked at you without your explicit permission," The words slipped out before Hyunjin had a chance to process them and you felt your body flame a little.
"That's very sweet, Prince-"
"Just Hyunjin...Just Hyunjin," He whispered as you smiled, taking in a deep breath.
"I'd love to join you, Hyunjin." You promised him. It was going to be difficult to convince your brother of it but you were sure you'd have a way with words if it meant bringing peace between the Kingdoms.
The stories of Lunaris Kingdom were either VERY wrong or you had heard them wrong. Everything was so broken down and dark. You knew it was the moon kingdom of course but you had been expecting some kind of light.
The carriage jolted to a halt, and you peered out at the landscape that stretched before you. Lunaris was a stark contrast to the vibrant lands of the Sun Kingdom. The once-grand buildings were weathered and worn, their facades marred by the passage of time and neglect, some of them completely broken apart and overtaken by nature. The roads were uneven, lined with people whose clothes bore the signs of hardship, your eyes flicked across every single person. A sense of unease settled in your stomach as you stepped out of the carriage, your gaze taking in the desolate surroundings.
Prince Hyunjin waited at the entrance to the castle, a stately structure that had seen better days. He'd done everything he could to make the place look presentable for you but it was hard with little gold. Despite the decay, it stood proudly against the skyline, a testament to the resilience of its people. Hyunjin approached with a welcoming smile, his presence as reassuring as ever.
“Welcome to Lunaris, Princess YN,” he said, bowing slightly and you felt your skin heating as he took your hand in his and placed a small and gentle kiss on top of your hand.
“I hope the journey wasn’t too tiring.”
“It was enlightening,” you replied, choosing your words carefully as you took in the scene before you. The kingdom was in a state of disrepair, yet there was something more here, something that went beyond the physical state of the land. Hyunjin seemed to sense your unease and cleared his throat.
“I know it’s not what you’re used to. Lunaris has faced many challenges, but I hope you’ll see the spirit of my people. Let me show you around.”
As you walked through the town, Hyunjin spoke of the struggles his kingdom had endured—the long years of war that had drained its resources and the efforts to rebuild from the ground up. Despite the dire state of the infrastructure, the people you encountered greeted you with smiles, their eyes reflecting a quiet determination and warmth that belied their circumstances.
"Did Felix allow you to come willingly or did you run for the hills?" Hyunjin teased as you walked together. Both of you falling into comfortable conversation with one another,
"He put up a bit of a fight. He doesn't seem to trust your intentions with me," You giggled a little at him and he looked at you,
"He believes you plan on keeping me here and forcing me to stay until I agree to the marriage."
"And you don't believe that?" Hyunjin seemed surprised that you had come along despite what your brother had said. You stopped walking and turned to look at him,
"I know you'd never hurt me Hyunjin...I can feel it inside of me that you'd never hurt me," You spoke with so much conviction it made Hyunjin's chest ache. The fact that you truly believed that he would never hurt you and was there for good with you.
"You're one of the only people to believe in the good in me." He whispered a little, a peek of his vulnerability creeping out around you. You looked at him, squeezing his hand softly.
"You're good. Even if people don't see it Hyunjin." You whisper. The two of you stared into one another's eyes as the rest of the world and its problems melted away around you and you looked only at one another. Your heart raced as you leaned into him, your chest pressing against his as he looked down at you, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes.
"Princess, I-" The words couldn't be finished since you heard a scream of a child ring out before giggles erupted and you both sprang apart from one another.
"This is, this er, where I keep some of the children without homes," Hyunjin cleared his throat as he spoke and took you through to the children.
There was one huge home that stood in the street and it looked busy. Children played in the streets, their laughter ringing through the air, while vendors sold their wares with pride, even if the offerings were meagre. Everywhere you looked, there was a sense of community, of people banding together to support one another despite the adversity they faced.
"The markets are this way too," He took your hand in his, both of you walking and talking together like it was the most natural thing in the world for you to do.
Hyunjin stopped by a market stall, exchanging a few words with the vendor and purchasing a small loaf of bread. He handed it to a passing child, who grinned up at him before scampering off, going to share it with a bunch of his friends. You watched the interaction, a warmth spreading in your chest at the sight of Hyunjin’s kindness.
“These people have very little, yet they give so much,” Hyunjin said, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow.
“I’ve given everything I can—my gold, my time, my heart—to help them rebuild, but it’s a slow process.” You were struck by the sincerity in his words, the depth of his commitment to his people. You'd known many Kings and Queens who did not care about the people in their Kingdom and who would rather be rich and powerful than even feed their own people. Yet Hyunjin was different. He was willing to give up everything in order for his people to eat.
In that moment, you saw him not just as a prince, but as a leader who had earned the love and respect of his people through selflessness and dedication. It was clear that Hyunjin’s heart was as much a part of Lunaris as the land itself.
You'd returned to the palace a few hours ago and had been held up in your room, debating everything going on in your mind. It was clear that Lunaris was everything to Hyunjin and he was doing whatever he could to bring peace to the lands and to the people there and you were going to do what you could to help him.
"This is lovely, but you didn't have to do this for me," You said as you sat across from Hyunjin. The dining hall was intimate, with a long wooden table set simply but elegantly. Candlelight flickered in the dimly lit room, creating a cosy atmosphere that was surprisingly comforting. As the meal began, you found yourself thinking about the events of the day, the resilience of Lunaris' people, and Hyunjin’s unwavering dedication.
"I wanted to, you're my guest and you deserve to feel at home here," He smiled as he poured you some water.
Throughout dinner, Hyunjin spoke passionately about his dreams for his kingdom and his people, the determination to see Lunaris flourish once more evident in every word he uttered. You listened, captivated by his vision, feeling your admiration for him deepen with every passing moment.
As the meal drew to a close, you looked across the table at him, your decision made. The future of Lunaris and the Sun Kingdom seemed clearer now, you weren't just going to stand back and let his Kingdom fail while yours flourished.
There was more than enough gold to go around, more than enough workers in the Sun Kingdom that could work in Lunaris and bring it back to working order.
“Hyunjin,” you began, your voice steady, as you placed down your glass of water and smiled at him.
“I’ve seen your kingdom and the strength of your people. I’ve seen what kind of ruler you are, and I know that together, we can build something better for both our kingdoms.” His eyes widened slightly, as he realised what you were saying but he wanted to be sure.
“Princess YN, what are you saying?” He whispers, your hands reached across the table and to take his hands and stroke against his skin softly.
“I’m saying that I’ll marry you,” you replied, your heart was racing. What if he suddenly decided he didn't want to marry you?
"I want to stand by your side, not just as your ally, but as your partner and I want to be here to help rebuild everything you've lost in the war...We can stop it together, we can end the carnage.” Hyunjin’s expression softened, a look of profound gratitude and happiness transforming his features.
“Thank you, YN. I promise you won’t regret this decision. I'll make you happy,” He promised as you smiled sweetly at him, his hands cupping your face and kissing you softly wihtout thinking it thorugh.
Your hear practically threw itself into his hands as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you, whining a little at the table that was in your way.
"Closer," You whined moving out from behind the table and practically sitting on his lap as he chuckled softly.
"Your brother would kill me if he knew what we were doing right now, Princess." He breathed out as he pulled back, leaning his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath,
"He'd have to go through me first," You whisper before kissing him softly.
"That's how you saved the Kingdom? Through true love?!" Your son gagged before Hyunjin hit him with the back of the book he was holding, scolding his son with a single look.
"True love isn't something to joke about," You smirk as Hyunjin moves to sit behind you, his hands holding your baby bump as your Son rolls his eyes at you.
"You roll your eyes but one day you'll be married to someone as well," Hyunjin smirked but he shook his head, running off to go and find his friends while you, Felix and Hyunjin sat together on one of the hills of the Sun Kingdom. It had been a few years since your union wedding and Lunaris was almost back to complete order, a few buildings were still in disrepair but they were almost completed.
Everything was going exactly as planned and perfectly too.
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GOING TO TRY AND SLIP THIS IN REAL QUICK
Uh can I request some first contact au soft vore swindle (any) with a human he found maybe when humans first started getting taken?
It took me ten years and I am absolutely exhausted but HERE IS THE SWINDLE FIC!!! I, um, forgot to add vore, but there is an allusion to it, so I hope you'll still enjoy this! I'm so sorry it took me so long to write :(
How To Discover A New Species And Make Money Off Of It (Totally Ethical Strategies Which Break No Laws)
Pairing: Swindle x Human Reader (First Contact Au)
Word Count: 2462
Summary: After traveling to Earth on a mission to locate rumored Energon deposits, Swindle discovers a new species in which he quickly realizes he can make quite a big amount of money off of...and they are called humans. Capturing you and deciding you will be the ambassador of his newest endeavor, you have no choice but to let Swindle rope you into a twisted plan where he hopes to turn humans into the popular Cybertronian pets.
The planet is a small, diminutive thing: a piece of space rock cast out into far reaches, reeking of organic growth that shows itself in shades of dark green, desolate brown, deep blue, and patches of puffy white swirling above everything else in the form of physical moisture. Its closest neighbors are all wastelands, either long abandoned by their inhabitants, or completely devoid of anything to begin with. Earth, as it is registered in Cybertron’s database, is the only planet in this backwater area of the galaxy to host life. It’s an insignificant sphere, circling an insignificant sun, in an insignificant solar system. No one would be caught here, simply because there is nothing to see.
Yet, here Swindle is, doing just that. Staring out at the mud puddle planet, he wonders how he ever thought accepting a job here would turn out to be profitable. The talks of Energon deposits being found on Earth had been too much to ignore. Such claims are typically rumors started by mechs with far too much time on their servos: fables of the purest Energon ever discovered hiding deep beneath the soil of places such as this one. If he were younger, Swindle would have fallen for the stories on the spot. Many newbies do. They think they’re making it big, wasting energy blasting off to no-name systems, ready to pour their resources into expeditions that always yield no crop. Fads fade. Stories end. And Swindle is not new to his trade.
He does his research. He interviews those he deems noteworthy. He takes notes. He’s careful. Ultimately, results prove Earth definitely has something. Energon? Eh, he’s not too sure. But his intel tells him it's something he can make shanix off of. A boon. A land mine of opportunity.
So he’s taken the chance. But now that he’s here, with his ship gradually getting closer and closer to the planet, he’s beginning to believe his research might have yielded false information. Earth is looking far from profitable, and he can tell no Cybertronian faction has made contact with its surface yet. It surprises him; Autobots and Decepticons, despite their countless differences, are extremely good at the art of colonization, whether accidental or intentional. It seems like practically every planet in the universe has been touched by his species in one shape or form. But no such thing can be found here. His ship’s systems aren’t picking up on a single Cybertronian satellite or base. It might very well be possible that he is the first to ever lay optics upon Earth.
This was a bad idea, he thinks. High chances will be that his search will bring up nothing. He could turn his ship around now and head off to places where his time will be better spent. He won’t regret it. Probably.
He continues looking at Earth and vents a frustrated exhale through his intake. Whatever. He’s here anyway. Might as well take a look around.
The forest his ship lands in has various creatures frantically darting out of harm’s way when it makes contact with the ground and stabilizes its support footing. With a hiss, the bay doors open, and he steps out slowly, his optics quickly adjusting to take in Earth’s light. It's all…very green. There’s a slight wind whistling between the leaves, making them rustle with a strange noise Swindle isn’t used to. He cringes and considers retreating back aboard the ship, then decides against it. His external diagnostics register no visible threats in the immediate area. He’ll be fine. After all, what organic would pick a fight with a giant alien robot such as himself?
He types some instructions into his data pad. A panel opens on the side of the ship, and out comes a scouting drone, the perfect way for him to get a Seeker’s eye view of the terrain. “Alright,” he murmurs to himself. “Here we go. Let’s see what this planet is hiding.”
The drone cycles and whirrs, then darts up into the air. Its video feed translates onto the data pad, giving him a clear aerial picture. At this vantage point, he can see that this forest he’s landed in stretches on for a long time. The drone picks up on various sorts of metals: his universal translation tool registers these as iron, copper, even gold. Sounds quite expensive, but they aren’t what he’s looking for. He types in a primary locating directive. Find Energon.
A few cycles pass, and still, he locates nothing. Just more green and strange lifeforms he couldn’t care less about. Swindle grumbles and wishes he brought some drinks with him to pass the time. There definitely isn’t any Energon here, and that frustrates him beyond measure. But it is a big planet by organic standards…just because Energon isn’t in this immediate location doesn’t mean his search is a total loss. He worries at his lower derma in thought. Perhaps he should check the polar caps next…or maybe the equatorial region?
Snap.
His audial processors immediately pick up on the noise. Intrusion. Whipping around, he has his gun out in an instant, the barrel revving up with pulsing energy, eager to incinerate whatever is in its path.
What stands before him-or below him-is a lifeform. A strange, fleshy being standing on two skinny legs with equally skinny arms. It stares up at him with big, alien eyes, and it’s flappy mouth parts in what he can only assume to be surprise. Swindle blinks, then slowly lowers the gun.
“Well, well, well,” he says, snapping the weapon away and crouching down with a curious tilt of the helm. “What…are you?” All of the natives he's seen so far are either quadrupedal or avian. This animal is neither; it stands like he does, yet clearly displays the qualities of subpar intelligence. It hasn’t done a single thing so far. It’s just…there. Staring. Perhaps a fright response? Does it think he can’t see it because it’s so still?
“You certainly aren’t Energon.” He clicks his derma, thinking. “But you are interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something quite like you before.” He wonders, is it friendly? He does a quick scan and comes to the satisfying conclusion that the creature-you-doesn’t harbor any natural defenses against his kind. He could break you in half like a stick with little-to-no pressure required. He extends a servo, intending to be friendly.
You finally snap into action and stumble back, letting out a yelp. He can’t help laughing when you fall over onto your aft, minuscule digits digging uselessly into the forest floor. Primus, you are pathetic. No claws, no antlers, no wings…what purpose do you serve for this planet? Your species definitely must be at critical risk of extinction.
Yet…he feels his spark soften when he observes your trembling body and listens to your soft squeaks. You…you’re adorable. Swindle is a hardened soul, one who doesn’t fall for the idea of cute easily. Yet you’ve managed to make him want to say “Awww” after looking at you for less than five cycles. Is this your way of self-preservation? Can you somehow influence the feelings of others in order to escape danger?
He wants to know more. He’s intrigued by you. Snapping his digits, he reaches forward. “C’mere, little thing. Let’s get a better look at you.”
Your face contorts into an expression of pure panic, and you fumble away from his looming servo, a startled shriek leaving you. But unfortunately for you, he’s far too quick, and snatches you into a fist before your tiny brain can keep up with his movements. You immediately begin struggling, letting out these sharp squeaks and desperate chatters. Swindle sighs and gives you a very patient look. “Quit squirming, alright? I swear I’m not going to hurt you as long as you don’t hurt me. Though I’m guessing you probably can’t. You’re barely taller than my index digit. Why are you so small, huh?”
He turns you over and observes you from every angle, being careful not to rough you up too much. You wear fabrics over your body and a weird sort of bag against your back. Swindle easily slips it off of you and holds it to one optic, scanning its inner contents. Just paper books and a weird ocular device. He snorts and throws it away, disinterested. You don’t seem to like this and begin pushing at his digits with a frantic desperation that has him chuckling.
“That’s not going to do much for you.” He brings you closer to his face and inhales your scent. A pleasant, woodsy aroma that only seems to permeate from organics fills his olfactory sensors and makes him shiver with delight. “How wonderful. You smell amazing. Almost on par with Energon.”
Oh. That reminds him. He’s here to find Energon, not ogle at weird little Earth creatures. He sighs and shifts you to his left servo so he can recall his drone. “Not much here to see besides you, pipsqueak,” he mutters as he watches the vessel speed back over to his ship and return to its charging panel. “Let’s go do some further exploring of this planet, alright? I think I’d like to hold onto you for a bit longer.” He smiles down at you. “You’re kind of cute. You don’t mind hanging out with good ol’ Swindle, do ya?”
You certainly do mind, with the way you continue to wriggle around with your arms flailing. Scared squeaks turn into angry growls, with you narrowing your eyes and puffing up to express your indignation. He watches you, then revs his engine and bares his denta, growling back at you with such a loud rumble, it sends a frenzy of avians flapping from the tops of the trees.
You snap your mouth shut and shrink back, any rebellious bravado previously displayed disappearing with the avians. Swindle grins satisfactorily. “You try and bite,” he says. “I bite back harder. Now be a good Earthling and enjoy the ride, alright? I’ll let you go once I’m bored of you.”
He walks slowly, taking his time not to accidentally knock a tree over or step on an accidental organic. You are quiet and oddly still, except for your constant vibrations which almost have him feeling rather guilty for scaring you into submission…almost. Glancing down at you, he watches the way you lower your head to hide your face beneath the cover of your hair. Liquid drips down onto his digit.
Ah. You’re leaking from your eyes. Crying. He didn’t know Earth animals could do that. He raises the end of his thumb and runs it lightly over your cheeks, wiping them away. “Don’t do that, little one, come on,” he says in the most soothing tone he can muster. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I’m just your friendly neighborhood salesbot, yeah? Just a guy trying to survive like every other punk in the universe. Why would I hurt you?”
You sniffle and peer at him with those big, soulful eyes. And oh, now you’ve done it. You’ve struck an arrow straight into his spark. A soft gasp escapes him, and he tilts your head back further. “By Primus, I have never seen something as cute as you. So soft…so small…” He ruffles your hair and earns himself a chirp as you swat his digit away. “Ha, and feisty too. I wonder…just how much would a bot pay to buy you as a pet?”
The gears begin turning. A new idea shows itself to Swindle as the prospect of a tantalizingly lucrative step into an industry he hasn’t bothered contemplating until now. Cybertronians, for all of their ingrained brutality, love pets. He thinks it's because his kind are so war-torn, so used to the bloody, the disgusting, the traumatic. So many veterans on all factional sides own cuddly therapy companions which aid them in their long road to recovery. Helio hamsters, cyber dogs and cats, even glitch mice and turbofoxes…not to mention various other non-Cybertronian native animals hailing from other planets across the cosmos. Yes, the pet trade for mechs is quite popular, and he knows it won’t lose its momentum any time soon.
So why can’t he get into it?
If Swindle was to suddenly return to Cybertron with a new creature…a tiny, delicate lifeform from the distant Earth, advertised as the perfect companion for any bot…he could begin a whole business. Gentle, squishy, and oh-so cute! A lifelong companion who engages with you and offers the ultimate form of loyalty! Buy one for your sparklings, your conjunx, or yourself! Yes, yes, he can see it now! He could make millions if he plays his cards right! Perhaps even billions if it really takes off!
He brings out his data pad and holds it over you. If you’re going to sell, you’re going to need a proper name to sell with. “Scan lifeform,” he orders. “Identify.”
The data pad is slow with it. Its light casts over you and makes you wince, giving a long, contemplative hum as its AI races through the Cybertronian web and searches for a clear species identification. When it finally lets out a pleasant beep and reveals all found information, Swindle swears he sees shanix flashing before his optics.
Species: human. Homeworld: Earth. Status: Critically endangered. Not protected by the Prime Universal Protected Organisms Law. Known clients are estimated to start at…20,000 shanix.
“20,000!” He whistles and grins delightedly. “Good Primus, you’re worth that much? Who knew I had such an expensive little twerp sitting right in the palm of my hand?” He laughs, ecstatic. Forget the Energon. What he can make off of you and the rest of your kind is twice as much as a regular run would get him. This is what has been hiding on Earth. This is the boon. The opportunity.
He leers at you, not even seeing you as just a fascinating animal anymore. You’re a product to take advantage of, to sell, to milk for all of your worth. Swindle’s done it before. He likes to say it’s nothing personal, because it isn’t. After all, he’s just surviving, trying to earn a life like anyone else. When he looks into your terrified eyes and sees the way you go pale at the sight of his nearly crazed expression, he thinks about how many bots will be won over by this face, how he’ll be rolling in dough by the time he’s through with Earth. “Listen to me, little one,” he says. “You and I are going to be very good business partners from now on. I think I’ll keep you as a showcase specimen. Which leads into my next question…where can I find more of you?”
#gator writes#swindle x reader#tf swindle#transformers swindle#transformers x human reader#transformers x reader#transformers first contact au#first contact au#reader insert#transformers g/t#giant tiny#maccadam#transformers
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