#Walking into your Perfect Life practice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 2 months ago

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𖢔 Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice Cream 𖢔

𖢔The five times Satoru tried to confess his feelings, and the one that worked𖢔

𖢔Pairings: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

𖢔Summary: Satoru Gojo was your best friend in the world, you'd long since had it bad for him, over the many years, but of course he's so popular and handsome, star basketball player, you think you have no chance. Satoru however, has tried five different times over the many years to tell you he loves you, but the words just never came out right, and you would never believe it to be possible. So, you both grow distant, as life takes over, until in your last year of college you end up at a Christmas party with him, where both of you are dealing with fresh breakups, and Suguru Geto is hanging mistletoe over your heads. Drinks pour, and so do Satoru's feelings he's kept inside. Have you both been in love with each other this whole time!?

𖢔CW: MDNI- Will be showing elementary, middle, high school and college missed confessions with Satoru and you! Lots of fluff ! Smut in current time (hints of it in early college) Friends/idiots to lovers, Toru is an idiot as a teenager lol, and they're bad at feelings, Christmas themed, emotional- light angst to fluffy smut. Explicit sexual content, fingering, cunnilingus. blow jobs, sexual tension, rough sex etc. 𖢔 Word Count- 15k words (holy fk lol)

𖢔Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!!𖢔

Christmas Eve, Last year of College

There is Christmas music playing as you enter the party, thrumming softly as you smile at so many of your friends, many you have barely seen in months. With being in the last year of college, many of you all had separate classes in separate buildings, and getting together was rarer and rarer. They wave at you while you take off your heavy winter coat.

It was freezing outside, and there was a faint dusting of snow, perfect for a Christmas Eve you muse. Little droplets melt on your hair as you shake your head to get them off, the warmth of the party and the sea of bodies enwrapping you. You see him then, right next to all of your friends, the man that never seems to leave your mind, Satoru Gojo.

God you’ve been friends forever, literally since you were ten years old, and running around in a playground at elementary school during recess, about Christmas time you’d met him in school and you’ll never forget him throwing snowballs so damn mean at you. You’d cried that day and somehow that had been the catalyst for your friendship.

But also your feelings.

You feel his blue eyes on you, eyes that you never got used to even after knowing him like the back of your hand, bright and piercing across the room, framed by a fringe of snow white lashes. He’s got a soft smile playing on his lips, waving a long arm at you, shouting your name. You hate that after all these years he still has such a damn effect, butterflies that never really left.

You’ve always tried to keep them pushed down, not get your hopes up ever, the few times you thought maybe Satoru could be available, had ended with him getting some new girlfriend. You had jokingly called them his flavors of the month, this month’s you’d called her an advent calendar jokingly over text, texting is mostly how you all talk now.

Satoru’s a star college basketball player and you’ve chosen to start a writing major, he’d be practicing basketball and you’d watch him in between typing up stories. He’d wave and smile at you as you sat on the bleachers to support him, though of course that was some time ago, when you both got significant others the friendship had gotten more distant.

You’d gotten broken up with literally last night, you were sure that your friends wondered why you were alone, but when you walk up to them, they just greet you. Suguru Geto, Satoru’s best friend and one of your good friends, hugs you first, in a warm embrace with his strong arms. You hug him back and smile up at him.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Suguru!”

“Of course, love, we miss you. We all miss each other.”

“Me too! Hey Shoko!” Shoko hugs you now too, pulling back to look at your pretty dark red dress.

“You look so hot!”

“Aw, thank you, you do!” You now look at Nanami, who’s all decked out in a full three piece suit, you remember his emo days and it always surprises you how much he’s grown up. “Nanami!”

“Hello, darling.” He hugs you now as well, leaving you face to face with Satoru, who stands now, towering over damn near everyone, even taller than Nanami. Suguru is the only one in the room as tall as he is.

You crank your neck back to look up at him as he gently places his hands on your face, kissing your forehead sweetly. You grip his wrists gently and melt at the gesture, it’s a gesture of friendship deep and important. It’s one you haven’t felt in such a long time, you get so emotional from it you gulp, swallowing. You realize you’ll probably never really get over him.

But he’s just your friend.

A friend that looks sexy as fuck-

Stop that!

“I missed you, sweets. Mwah!” You giggle now as he smacks another kiss on your head and pulls you against his strong chest.

“Ugh, I miss you! But… maybe not so friendly, your-”

“I’m a free man so I can hug my friend again.” He teases, then pulls back and winks at the three of your other friends. “All my friends.”

“Don’t hug me, disgusting.” Nanami says with a shiver, earning Satoru’s huge, wolfy grin, big bright white teeth shining and reflecting the twinkling lights hanging on the ceiling above you.

“Well, that makes two of us.” You say softly, and Satoru’s eyes lock on you then, blue storms unreadable, a little lock of his soft white hair falling over a brow. Your eyes lower, taking in the white dress shirt and dress pants he’s wearing, worth more than you make in months easily. God he looks good.

Don’t think that way, it’ll always fuck you up.

“What happened?” Suguru asks softly, and you sigh, looking up at the dark haired man and smiling a bit.

“He wanted to go separate ways, I’m in college and he’s not anymore, I guess he felt we were too distant and separated because of it.”

“He didn’t wanna buy you a Christmas gift, cheap ass.” Satoru says with a huff, and you all laugh then.

“So we’re broken hearted for Christmas hmm?” You tease him now, taking his hand and squeezing gently, he pauses then, usually humorous face so serious, it makes you falter a bit, you ease your hand off, just when Suguru clears his throat.

“Ahem. Well then.” He holds up a thing of fake mistletoe now, right above Satoru’s white head and you, and you giggle a bit, but something in Satoru’s face shifts, his pretty pink lips part just a bit, eyes getting lidded.

“Well, there’s mistletoe, it’s a tradition.” He says, voice a little husky, you try to laugh it off, but quiet when he leans down a bit, hands in his pockets.

“Oh stop being silly you all.” You say, tempted by those glossy lips, but you don’t trust yourself not to lose it if you cross that line. Vivid images of straddling this man fill your mind just thinking of kissing him, you can’t go that far.

“It’s just a kiss, silly. C’mon, smooch me.” He puckers his lips all silly, Nanami and Suguru snort in laughter, and Shoko rolls her eyes. You sigh then, remembering, it’s just silly Satoru, your best friend. No big deal for him to have a kiss, especially as you both had shared a few kisses, one in middle, one in high school… and one drunken college encounter.

You may or may not have them written in a diary somewhere.

There may BE a Gojo diary.

“Okay, fine, tradition is tradition.” You say, he smirks now, hands out of his pockets to rest gently on your shoulders, so big he overtakes them. You exhale and your eyes flutter shut, as Satoru Gojo’s lips descend.

Fuck it feels so good to kiss him, it’s like you become boneless in his goddamn hold, it’s not just the pressure of some plush lips, it’s so much more, you are sure he probably doesn’t feel this, but you can’t help but lean up on your tip toes, even in your high heels, hands trailing up that stark shirt. He exhales and deepens the kiss, hands pulling you even closer.

You’ve never felt anything as sweet as his lips.

Satoru has never felt anything as sweet as your lips.

Fuck he knew it would feel this way, but it takes everything in him not to drag you upstairs and kiss every inch of your body. And fuck your body looks so good in that tiny little formfitting red dress, like a present just for him to unwrap. Satoru feels your skin heat up as he presses his lips on yours once more, in sweet little pecks, drinking in your breathless sounds.

He looks down at you, your eyes have dilated so much they’re almost black, just a ring of your pretty eye color left. Your lips are just slightly reddened from his kisses, parted just so, looking dazed. If you look like this from a kiss, he has to wonder how you look when he’d kiss you everywhere, every inch of your smooth skin, so bare in that dress he’s mad anyone even gets to see you.

You flush now, and he sees it, sees how flustered you get, biting your lower lip, lashes trembling just so over your eyes. Your hands are clutching his chest, his heart races under your palm, he wonders… Do you feel it? Do you feel even a bit of what he’s felt so long for you?

He longs to kiss you again, as his friends and yours all laugh softly, making little ‘ooooh’ noises, which you giggle at, but you don’t step back or step away, no you stay there, in front of him. He can feel your body heat, entrancing him, when you finally ease away you’re smiling so cute and shy at him, tearing his heart apart.

Satoru has to remember you’re just a friend, but it’s awfully difficult right now, especially since he knows you’re single. He knew the guy wasn’t good enough for you, but as your best friend he tried to be respectful, but he’d just tasted your sweet lips, like cherries, and now he’s imagining tasting your other lips. He’s a horrible friend, isn’t he, but…

Satoru’s been in love since he met you.

He knows you have no clue of it, the few times he’s tried he’s covered it up completely, much to your never ending confusion. Suguru, Nanami and Shoko all knew how bad he had it, even now, girls were placeholders, things to try to cope with the fact that he was too scared to share his feelings. He was nervous, Satoru Gojo, the man that could score under any pressure.

He scores in games, in life, with women. You were his weakness, breaking through this barrier he had, some invisible barrier that just a touch from you could destroy, a happy little smile on your perfect lips. Lips that are quirked up, you run your hand through your silky hair, hair he wonders what it would feel like in his fingers, pulling it as he…

Shit.

“Should we catch up a bit?” You ask softly.

“Miss me sweets?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, laughing.

“A bit.”

Fuck his heart stops. “Let me get you a drink?”

You nod and smile at his friends, who give him a sly little nod. They have made tonight their mission to try to get Satoru to express his feelings, finally and once and for all, before he went to play professionally, and before he maybe didn’t get a chance. He’d tried before, but something always holds him back, some fear of rejection, your rejection that sinks into him.

“I missed you, Toru.” You say softly, and the nickname hits him in the gut, the nickname you have called him for so long. He grabs a vodka bottle and smiles over at you, mixing you the drink he knows you love so much.

“Of course you missed me.” You laugh softly, Satoru always makes jokes, because he’s so scared to truly be vulnerable. You shove at him a little playfully, tiny little hand on one of his shoulders.

“You didn’t miss me, hotshot?” You tease.

“Miss you every day.” He says softly. You pause now, hands over his as he hands you the little cup, feeling yours get sweaty, as you tremble just a bit.

Are you as affected as him?

You can barely focus when Satoru’s long fingers brush against yours, you clear your throat and smile tremulously, taking the drink and sipping. “I wish we had more time to… hang out.” You say, cursing yourself internally.

“Hang out hmm?” He leans back on the counter, as the partygoers walk in and out of the kitchen.

“Yes, hang out. We used to all the time. I guess life happened?”

“Jealous boyfriend, jealous girlfriend happened.” He sips his drink, a little droplet falls, urging you to wipe it with your thumb, he catches your wrist in his big grip, tense, you both stare at each other quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He lets your hand down gently.

“Satoru I… do you think… you’d ever…”

“Ever what, sweets?”

“Ever…” You’re a blushing mess now, wondering at yourself, but it’s been forever, your boyfriend and you had not slept together, and before that it’s been almost a year since you last slept with someone. And fuck Satoru looks so good your mouth is just watering.

“You can ask me anything.” He says, so soft, and you take a breath.

“Have you ever thought of um… hooking up?” You whisper the words, earning his huge eyes getting even bigger, mouth wide with shock. “Oh god of course you haven’t! I just thought since we… almost back in the day? Also, it’s been a while and I trust you, and… oh god forget it so embarrassing!” You slam your hands on your face now, feeling your ears even overheating.

“Wh-what!?” He demands, leaning down and taking your hands off, you can’t even meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry that was so off base. You’re probably hurt! I’m a little hurt too. I just… fuck I need to go.”

“What!? No no no.” Satoru stops you now, exhaling as he studies you carefully. “Like just a hookup? You don’t think it’ll ruin…”

“It wouldn’t ruin anything for me. I’ve always… I’ve always wanted to.” You admit, earning more of a blatant look of shock. “I know I was a little too… I don’t know, romantic back when we were younger? But I thought of it.”

“Yeah? Shit… Yeah?” You giggle now, nervously.

“Yeah I’ve always thought about it. I know… but do you think of me that way? If not it’s fine, no pressure really.”

He scoffs now, shaking his head. “Never thought of you that way?”

“Well you’ve been picking on me since you were ten, throwing snowballs at me, little shit.” You poke his chest, ignoring the hammering of your heart, and Satoru takes you by your arm, long fingers wrapping it entirely.

“Christmas Story time young lady.” You giggle and let him lead you out of the lively party, out to some of the quieter rooms, and he snatches you in one quickly, locking the door behind you both. He sits down in a huge leather seat in the quiet room, tapping one of his long thighs.

You suddenly get even more shy, and he notices, leaning forward. “I am not very experienced at being casual, Toru, give me a minute.”

“We’re not doing anything yet anyway, sit on Santa’s lap.” You snort, shaking your head, and he narrows those blue eyes, before leaning over and snatching up a santa hat and grinning. “Now, come here, be a good girl.”

“Good girl!?” You’re wet, great. You nervously shuffle to his thigh now, sitting and hoping he can’t feel your heat.

“You’re all talk hmm?” You sigh.

“I can’t believe I said all of that, I’m so sorry. I’ve always… Well, I’ve always had a crush on you. It sounds silly.” You look away, only for Satoru to cup your face, turning you to him carefully, your breath catches when you see how serious his pretty face is under that silly hat.

“Are you ready for story time?” He asks softly. You nod then, leaning closer in his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck, the other hand resting on his hard chest.

“I’m ready, Santa Toru.” He smiles just a bit, then he remembers.

*****

The First time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Fifth Grade- Age 10

“Oh my gosh! Ugh!” You’re shivering now, Satoru has thrown two giant snowballs at the prettiest girl he’d seen, wearing a wicked grin as they both hit your sweater, soaking wet with them now.

You turn and glare at him, and gosh, Satoru really thinks you’re cute, your face is all scrunched up in a glare, a face he frequently stared at in class. You were so, so pretty, and you always had your head in a book, where most classmates fawned over Satoru, laughed at his jokes, you just…

Were you.

Satoru wanted some attention, so this seemed like a great way to try, until he walks over and sees your face, tears in your eyes, your lips trembling. He pauses then, blinking his snowy lashes, worrying now, as he’s not ever seen you upset, and now he feels it like a hit on his chest.

“You’re crying?” He asks, and then remembers people around you are watching, and he doesn’t want to seem too soft. “Why are you crying? Just snowballs.”

“I’m soaking wet and cold now, Gojo!” You stomp a foot, shivering, Satoru suddenly feels awful.

“I… oh… um…” He takes off his jacket then, shivering just a bit in the chilled air, so cold he could see puffs of your breath as you sigh.

“No, no you’ll be cold. I’ll be fine. I’ve just had… um a bad day.” You whisper, looking down and hugging yourself.

It’s then, Satoru realizes…

He thinks he likes you…

A lot.

He eases off your soppy sweater, throwing his jacket over your shoulders, and you look up at him and keep crying. “I’m sorry, okay!?”

“N-no. You’re just sweet, Gojo. Thank you.” You swipe at your eyes with your gloved hands as he clutches your sweater, he brings it to his nose for a moment, inhaling you. “Are you… smelling it? Do I smell bad!?”

“No, no! You smell sweet.” You raise your brows, color on your cheeks, on your cold little nose. “I mean… you… I…”

“Thank-”

“I mean whatever. Bring that back tomorrow.” You blink in surprise as he shoves your sweater in your hands, and he doesn’t like how excited he is when your fingers brush against his, he doesn’t like how your face in tears made him feel.

He was the head of the Gojo clan, he had to be strong, not a mess for some sad little girl in his class. He turns away and you call out his name softly. He tilts his head, blue eyes glinting at you. “Thank you!”

“Yeah.” He throws a peace sign at you, and Suguru runs up to him now.

“You like her!”

“Do not.”

He did not like you, no…

Ten year old Satoru was surely falling in love already.

*****

Present Day

“You liked me then!?” You ask incredulously, remembering the look on his big blue eyes as he’d left you with his coat. “I thought you were picking on me?”

“I was… but I wanted your attention.” You exhale now, brushing his hair back gently, his eyes flutter shut. “I still want your attention. I just don’t throw snowballs at you anymore.”

“I mean, it kind of worked?” He laughs now, hot breath against your cheek as you pull back just a bit, cupping his face carefully. “You don’t need to throw snowballs anymore, I threw myself at you just now.”

“Nah, you didn’t. You just brought up something I’ve been dying to do, but too fucking afraid.”

“Afraid of me, you’re Satoru Gojo.” His hand feels so good up and down your back you damn near purr like a cat. “Popular, gorgeous, a sports star.”

“Well I don’t feel like any of that around you. I get… stupid and tongue tied. And say all the wrong shit.” You tilt your head, feeling the energy shift.

“You really liked me, Satoru?”

He sighs, thumb brushing across your lower lip, sending shivers of pleasure from just that down your spine. “Like… That’s not really the word.”

“No?” You whisper.

“No…” Satoru’s lips press against yours once more, and you let out a soft cry from the back of your throat, your hands entangling in his hair, body arching just so, earning his soft moan as he pulls back, your noses touching. “I didn’t just sleep with you before, back at the beginning of college, remember?”

“Oh I remember… somehow, despite the beer.”

“I didn’t because… it would be more.”

You shift just a bit, earning his breath catching, feeling the pressure between your thighs. “Is this too much?”

“No, no. Not enough.” You moan now, as his tongue slips past your lips, swiping in and swirling with yours, you drink up his every breath, as he sips up your cries. “Fuck, feel how hot you are.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s sexy. You’re sexy.” Satoru eases back now, a pink blush on his high cheekbones. “Story time, ready for more? If you listen good, Santa will take good care of you.” He teases, brushing thumbs over your nipples.

“Of course, Santa Toru. Carry on.”

Satoru smirks, looking so charming, you feel your blood rushing through your veins, struggling to calm as he speaks. “Remember eighth grade well?”

“Of course, you were already a little wise guy.” You earn his serious look, and he is shaking his head. And then it hits, that memory, of your first kiss ever with anyone, with Satoru Gojo. “You mean our kiss?”

“Yeah, our kiss.”

*****

The Second time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Eighth Grade- Age 14

Satoru was extremely popular, especially with the girls in school, he had several of them all over him even though he came on a date with one of your pretty classmates. You at this point have the biggest crush on him, though you certainly wouldn’t tell him, and he wouldn’t look at you that way, surely. You’re sipping on punch as you sit on one of the bleachers, watching everyone dance.

Little do you know, Satoru is watching you, his blue eyes keep peering your way over and over, looking at how cute you are in this pink, floofy little dress, one he didn’t expect to see you in. You’re nervously fidgeting with your little red solo plastic cup, smiling and waving a bit at him, as girls keep asking him questions, and one is dragging him out to the dance floor.

You watch Satoru with his hands on her waist, the thoughts of that alone make you feel sick for some reason, you’re not sure why. Suguru Geto comes up to you now with a smile, long hair pulled half up off his head, holding a hand out, you look around. “You sure? Me?”

“Yes you silly, you look pretty tonight.” You can’t stop the shy smile on your face as he stands you up, taking you to the floor for your first dance with someone.

“Thanks Suguru.” You say, he puts his hands on your waist as you both sway side to side, and you feel Satoru’s eyes burning holes as you both do, as he spins around the dance floor.

“Do you like him?”

“Like who?”

“Satoru.” Suguru tilts his head, and you want to sink into the floor, exhaling and shaking your head. Suguru smiles. “Not at all?”

“As a friend um… even if so, he’s too busy with his fan club.” Suguru chuckles at that, spinning you now.

“You think he doesn’t like you?”

“No way he does.” Suddenly Satoru’s standing between you both, arms crossed, his face just gets prettier every year, it’s really not fair you think.

“My turn.” He says, and Suguru gives a little mock bow, winking at you and dancing with another girl, Satoru’s hands tremble when they hit your waist, fingertips brushing over the mesh of your skirt. Something about the contact makes you gasp, your eyes flying to him when your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling how broad they’ve gotten.

“You don’t have to dance with me, Satoru. Suguru was already being nice.” You look down nervously, afraid to misstep, to accidentally stomp on his foot.

“Why do you think I don’t want to?”

“You have so many pretty girls, but you are a sweet friend. Thank you.” He pauses now, and you pause with him, his blue eyes glinting as there are lights flashing all around you all, in the middle of the dance floor. “What’s wrong, Satoru?”

What’s wrong is how he wants to kiss you, to kiss his best friend, he wonders if your lip gloss tastes yummy, and he shouldn’t wonder. He’s kissed girls, but he has never wanted to kiss anyone like he does you, you’re looking up at him curiously, his hand on the small of your back now. You’re always so shy and insecure, and Satoru doesn’t know why.

You’re so beautiful.

He should tell you.

Instead however, he opens his mouth, then closes it, to open it again, finally he just leaves you. You’re trembling in embarrassment, scowling now and following him out of the throngs of people as people are watching and whispering. You stomp out into the hallway, he even walks right out of the double doors. You follow him and are shouting his name.

“You’re so rude sometimes! You shouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t want to!” You shout, feeling tears pricking your eyes, and Satoru turns around then, tears glistening in his own eyes, making you pause.

“Why can’t you understand?” He asks, cupping your face with a cool hand, and it feels far too good on your overheated cheeks.

“Understand what, that my best friend is being mean?”

“I’m not being mean. I can’t… I can’t…” He exhales now, hormonal brain whirling, why can’t he think of anything good to say!? Why can’t he tell you he’s got it so bad for you, that you’re all he thinks of sometimes? But he’s so scared because you’re so close to him, such a good friend. What if you don’t feel the same?

“You can tell me anything. Always.” You cup his hand on your cheek, he feels how warm it is under his touch, leaning down now, your eyes dart to his lips, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks. “What are you…”

Satoru presses his lips against yours, your first kiss ever, you pause as your heart is pounding in your chest, unsure of what to do. Where do you put your hands!? Where do you… stand? You step back and look at him with shock, he’s so serious which is nothing like the Satoru you know, a goofy silly boy who’s always bright and smiling.

“You just kissed me.” You whisper, unable to say what you want to, that you have never felt your heart beat so fast, that you have never imagined a kiss from the boy you have it so bad for. That you’re so happy you could spin.

“I did.” Is all he manages, it sounds choked out, as he leans close again, the wind fluttering leaves around your feet, in uncomfortable platform heels you’ve stolen from your mother’s closet.

“But don’t you have a date tonight?” You touch your lips, still tingling with him, and Satoru gulps now, visible, leaning in close again. “Don’t confuse me, please, you would never be interested in me.”

“Why do you think that way? Why can’t you see that I-”

“Satoru!” Satoru’s date comes out now, and you feel terrible, you feel so embarrassed, especially when he shoots her a smile, and then a sullen look at you as she grabs his arm. “Oh it’s Satoru’s little friend. You’re like a little sister, right?”

You glare hurt eyes at Satoru now, and he feels himself closing right back up, knowing how bad those words hurt you, how confused you must be. “A little sister? Is that what you call me?” You ask, quietly, hiding your every feeling.

“I said we were really close like family, yes, but…” You laugh just a bit, blinking back tears, looking at his date now.

“He’s definitely just like family. Have fun you two.” You stomp off then, and Satoru wants to stop you, wants to say something, but he thinks he’ll just make it worse. You left right after, he didn’t see you the rest of the dance, and the next week at school you were back to normal, his sweet friend, you both didn’t bring it up, what happened.

Satoru knew he hurt your feelings, and he didn’t know how to apologize, or how to tell you how much the kiss meant, and how badly during every school project, every study session, that he wanted to do it again. So instead, he just stays your friend, wondering if you forgot it all.

*****

Present Day

You feel pesky tears prick the back of your eyes, sighing shakily now as Satoru’s lips pout just a bit, his brows drawn together. “You felt something for me? Then?”

“Yes, I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up.” You remember how hurt you were, to be called that, after your first kiss, remember rushing home and crying in your bed all night.

“I thought it was some dare or something.” You admit, and he leans forward, shaking his head, pulling you more firmly against his hard body, a body you’ve dreamt of being pressed against this way more than once.

“No, not at all. You looked pretty in that dress, I remember it like it was yesterday, exactly what you wore.” Satoru’s voice gets husky as his gaze lowers, to your breasts that are showcased in black and red lace over your dress, you feel it like a caress, filling you with longing.

“You were my first kiss.” You say now, his eyes widen in surprise.

“I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked. You never brought it up again.” You swipe at an errant tear as Satoru cups your face gently.

“I was a shithead.” You giggle now, nodding. “You’re not supposed to agree!”

“Well you were. Why’d you kiss me, Satoru?” You lean in close, lips just a breath from him now, tasting his sweetness on his lips, tantalizing you.

“I thought it would be my epic moment. You rushed after me, thought I’d tell you how I feel, finally. But then…”

“How did you feel?” He sighs now, kissing your lips once more.

“You listened to story number two, I said I’d treat you for being so good. On the nice list, hmm?” You giggle again, as he kisses down your chest.

“You’re avoiding the question… mmm… not complaining.” You gasp when he reveals one of the peaks of your breasts now, he lets out a soft moan.

“You’re so pretty.” His lips are descending on it, latching on a nipple and sucking. You enwrap your hands in his hair, pulling it while he sucks on it with his hot mouth.

Desire shoots down your body, making you tremble, Satoru’s hand presses against your tummy, fingers slipping against the soft velvet of your dress, your eyes roll back at how good it feels when his teeth nip at the peak. He pulls back, strings of saliva dripping from his lips, then he’s pulling your other one out, shifting you to straddle his lap, and you feel him.

Fuck he feels so good against you, when you sink down on his lap, and he’s got another peak in his mouth, his hand squishing the other, lips trailing back up, looking at you under those snowy lashes. You’re trembling now, thighs tense as you feel his length under those slacks, pressing against soaked panties. His head falls back as he sinks your hips lower.

“Oh my god.” He murmurs. “You’re so wet from just that? You’re so desperate for me, hmm?”

“Oh fuck you.” You glare, he laughs softly as you try to back up, yanking you back down.

“I like you so needy. It’s cute.” Your eyes are just narrowed now, and you slide your hips down his length, earning him tensing, sucking in a breath.

“You’re needy. It’s so cute.”

“Brat.” He brings your lips back down to his, and relishes in the feel of you, the taste of you. God he’s wanted this for so long, but he has to tell you, he has to tell you what’s in his heart, even if he is currently thinking of sinking into the heat that’s grinding on his cock. He pulls away, physically painful, looking into your dazed eyes.

“More stories!? We’re gonna need a break, I won’t be able to focus.” Your hair is falling softly against his chest as you roll your hips again, and he presses up, feeling the slick heat even through the barriers.

“For every story you listen to, I’ll make you cum.” He watches the mess that makes you with a satisfied grin.

“But I’ve already listened to two!”

“There are three more.”

“You can’t cum five times in one…”

“You’re doubting me, hmm?” Your lips press his again, and he hoists you up, holding you effortlessly in strong arms, pressing you against the wall now, the coolness on your back doing nothing to cool down your body.

“Maybe you’re all talk, all star.” He snorts now, easing you down, pressing his arms on either side of you.

“Then a little demonstration, before the next story.” His hand slips up your dress by the hem, baring your thighs, you tremble as your eyes lock, and he finds you over your panties, dripping and sticky. “Fuck, these are ruined.”

“Shut up, Satoru.” You whine out as he presses against your clothed clit, moaning as he does, pressing his finger up higher, you’re whimpering, slick coating his fingers. “Please…”

“Please what, sweet girl?” Satoru murmurs softly, and you’re trembling, hand gripping his wrist, feeling the strong muscles on his arm.

“Touch me.” He slips his fingertips under your panties now, finding your aching clit and rubbing in circles, making you throb around nothing, head slamming back into the wall as his lips capture yours again. He moves in tantalizing circles, quicker and quicker, working you up, making you want more and more. “Ngh!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He huffs, pressing his finger up more, blue eyes flicking over your face, free hand cupping your chin. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

He starts pressing up more, your cunt soaking his fingers as he works your clit so good, you’re gasping when it hits you, the orgasm from Satoru’s long fingers that keep slipping to tease your entrance. You’re dying for more, but he pulls his finger away, your hands are clinging to his shirt, crumpling the fancy fabric, Satoru slips his finger to his lips now, moaning.

“You’re so sweet tasting. Mmm.” He kisses you again, coating your lips with your own slick, you’re grinding up against his thigh that’s now slotted between yours. “Can’t wait to drink you up.”

“Drink me, I… Toru, the things you’re saying…” He’s kissing down your cheek, down your neck, before he pulls back with a smile. “Let me…”

Your hand slips down his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense under your touches. “Not yet, horny little nerd.”

“Oh whatever!” You shove at him now, as he doesn’t allow you to touch his cock whatsoever yet, gripping your wrist above your head.

“That’s one, I’ll give you four more, but I need you to listen.”

“Or what, I’m on the naughty list?” You tease, tugging on his hat, he fixes it back on his head with a smirk. “Who knew you even remembered little things like that about me.”

“Little things? That kiss wasn’t a little thing.” You melt at his words.

Words Satoru has longed to tell you.

“Why didn’t you let me know?”

“I tried. A couple more times. Now… Come on, we’ll make an appearance, and continue this soon. Don’t you pout, can’t just use me for my body.”

“Oh god.” You breathlessly giggle as you all get back to the party, and Satoru’s snatching you up in his arms for a dance, you feel your friends gazing upon you both, sharing knowing looks. “You sure can dance, Satoru.”

“Of course I can.” He spins you now, bringing your back against him, you feel his strong chest on your back, your ass pressed against his hard thighs. His hands guide your hips as the music plays, soft and sweet like his caresses.

“So what’s next, Santa Toru? On the cringy memory train of me.”

“Cringy of you? Nah. Well, the next trip of Christmas past would be… Sophomore year of high school. Remember that bowling night?”

“Bowling night, which one?” You’re turning your head to look up at him, his santa hat is falling just so, as you sway with him, and remember.

*****

The Third Time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Sophomore Year of High School- age 16

Satoru and you had fallen back into an easy friendship, you all were going bowling, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, you and Satoru. You all were always together, along with a couple other close friends, and Satoru’s new girlfriend, she was very pretty and very clingy, all over him to the point Suguru was laughing at it. Satoru could barely get a moment to breathe.

Nanami is showing you how to bowl, and something in Satoru tenses, as you’re giggling up at him and grinning, and he sees Nanami is blushing. He’s mentioned a few times he thinks you’re sweet and pretty, and Satoru supposes no one else he knows would be good enough for you, aside from his friends. But it hurts, to see his hand on your shoulders, on your back.

Satoru’s girlfriend is kissing all on his neck, irritatingly, she’s gorgeous and a star cheerleader, who should be with the star player, right? Satoru supposes that’s what is done, and he loves making out with her and more… but… something about you is addling his psyche, constantly. Every time you laugh it’s like his heart tightens, every brush of your skin against his makes him weak.

Even hugging you was hard now, so he’d backed off a bit, you’re too pretty, you smell too good, you look so pretty in those little school uniforms. He can’t even stand to see you in those skirts. Thankfully you’re just wearing blue jeans, so that he didn’t have to stress even more about you and Nanami.

Why can’t he just tell you!?

He gets so tongue tied around you, Satoru Gojo, the boy who can’t ever shut up, but with you he stutters, he stammers, he blushes. And ever clueless, you have no idea what your effects are on him, on anyone. Still so insecure, but Satoru really does not know why or how, can’t you tell that you alone make him go crazy? That all these girls are just not you.

You smile at him now, a little sad he notices, waving, and only serving to make his girlfriend clingier. You walk up now, looking at him for a moment, before looking at the group. “Does anyone want pizza? I’m so hungry, I’ll buy.”

“I’ll come with you.” Satoru stands now, his girlfriend huffs.

“Don’t leave me, Gojo.”

“Just gonna get food, you want something baby?” Baby, the little term crushes your damn teenage heart, as Satoru pecks a kiss on his girlfriend’s lips, and you can’t get over Satoru enough to even have a dating life. You compare any man to him, to this ever taller, lanky best friend of yours.

Satoru’s gotten six feet tall now, towering over everyone, and the basketball has only served to enhance every muscle. Just being at his game yesterday, seeing his muscles in his jersey had been too much to handle, you’d had to jot it all down in your diary, fast becoming a Satoru Gojo diary. Not that you could say anything, he’s always got a girl on his arm.

You remember that kiss so well, what had he been thinking? Sometimes you worry it was some dare, some joke or something. It’s the only kiss you’ve had still, though you think if you had another you could maybe start pushing that back, maybe realize it wasn’t so amazing, right?

Satoru comes with you now, walking beside you, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you all are walking toward the food court. “Missed ya short stuff.”

“Missed you, tall ass.” You giggle now as he grins down at you, nudging you. “Everyone’s short compared to you. What are you even eating!?”

“Lots of candy and cookies.”

“Ah, that’s the secret. I’ll grab you something sweet.” You order pizza for everyone, then you order churros, one of Satoru’s favorites. He moans when he sees it, hugging and picking you up, you try to ignore how the casual touch gets you.

“Thank you, sweets.” He smacks a kiss on your cheek, you cup your face carefully, looking down at your tennis shoes.

“No biggie. Gotta feed you, growing boy and all.” He starts nibbling as you all wait for the pizza to finish, sitting at a little booth now, his thighs are spread and they’re so long they’re pressing against your thighs, making you so flustered, but you’re sure he doesn’t notice.

He does notice though, he notices everything about you, he wants to tell you then, to stop this facade of friendship. But he’s on a date, and you’re both with friends in a crowded bowling alley. It doesn’t seem the right moment, but he’s carefully watching you while you are taking a little sip of your drink.

“Have a bite.” He says, and you freeze.

An indirect kiss!?

You are thinking too much!

You lean forward and take a nibble, he watches as you do, little crystals of sugar on your lips. “Yummy.”

An indirect kiss!

Satoru thinks with a smile, wiping the little bit of sugar dust off you, and then freezing. You both freeze, your eyes locked on each other, Satoru’s thumb lingers on your lower lip, eyes lowering to stare at it, your chest rises and falls with your breaths, his attention now on your collarbone, where you still wear that necklace he got you forever ago.

A friendship necklace.

“You still wear that, huh?” He asks quietly now, you touch it as is a habit, it’s a long faded half of a yin yang.

“Of course I do. Do you have yours?”

“I still have it.” You smile, brightening his heart then, and he opens his mouth, he has to just say it, to say he has that necklace dangling off a picture frame, and the picture is of you and him. A polaroid you all took together on a field trip, that he looks at it every night.

“That makes me unreasonably happy. I was sure you tossed it.”

Satoru blinks. “Tossed it?”

“Well yeah, we’re older now, and I know Suguru is your real best friend. I’m like secondary, honorary.” You playfully mess up his perfect silky locks, but he doesn’t laugh, no he’s serious again, as serious as that eighth grade dance.

“Do you like Nanami?” He asks suddenly, surprising you.

“He is sweet and so handsome, yeah. I do like emo boys a bit. Why?” You ask curiously, pretending to like Nanami, would it make it less painfully obvious that you’re in love with Satoru?

He frowns now. “I didn’t like seeing you two-”

“Pizza’s up.” Satoru uses the moment, hopping up, leaving you confused, but he doesn’t even acknowledge any of it, just grabbing the pizza boxes and smiling down at you casually.

“Satoru, what did you mean? Do you think I wouldn’t be good for Nanami?” You ask, insecurities wracking you. He shakes his head as you both head toward your friends again, through the busy room.

“No, I didn’t say that, not at all.”

“So what do you mean?” He opens his mouth again, just as his girlfriend bounces up and smiles at him, and you realize how foolish you are to think he meant that.

You all go back to being more separated, Nanami has gotten you a slice of pizza and you’re both sitting together and smiling, but your eyes keep going to Satoru, hurt in them when his clingy ass girlfriend practically drapes herself on him. Satoru needs to let these feelings go, he’s doing nothing but hurting and confusing you. So he decides the best thing to do?

A little bit of distance.

*****

Present Day

“Is that why you basically ignored me for like months?” You ask curiously, Satoru spins and dips you, bending you back over his arm in a move that would make anyone swoon, and of course you do, his lips hovering over yours.

He brings you back up, making you dizzy and breathless. “I thought I was hurting you, confusing you.”

“You definitely were confusing. But I missed you when you didn’t spend any time with me at all. That hurt.” He nods just a bit, the song is ending, and you’re still pressed so close against him.

“I wanted to say that I didn’t like Nanami with you, because I wanted to be with you. But how could I say that?”

“I don’t know… you could have tried to?”

“Stop being all logical.” You snort now. “Another orgasm on the list.” He whispers against your ear, you tremble now.

“Are you all finally going to get this tension taken care of?” Shoko asks, and you gasp, realizing they’re all watching you two.

“Tension?”

“Since high school.” Shoko says.

“Nah, Middle School.” Nanami counters.

“Even younger.” Suguru chimes in, and you watch Gojo’s cute little blush overtake his perfect pale skin.

“Seems like you all planned this.” You admonish, and they whistle, looking every which way, but Satoru looks right at you still.

“Think you’re invited to the afterparty, my place?” He says softly, unlike most of the people in dorms or frat houses, Satoru has his own place, beautiful too. You look at your friends now.

“Are they invited?”

“Nah, exclusive.”

“Oh just go, dear god. I’m so tired of the pining.” Shoko says, shoving at Satoru and handing you your coat.

“You kicking us out!?” You demand playfully, only being shooed right out, into the cold snowy night with Satoru. His hands come to warm your cheeks, as you stare at him with glittery eyes, eyes that make his heart falter every time. “Satoru I really… I’ve been… for so long…”

“Ah-ah. You have two more Christmas stories. C’mon, I’ll tell you one on the way.” You follow him breathlessly to his fancy black sports car, he turns on the heat after he starts the car, a hand pressing on your thigh. You lean close to his side, cuddling against him for warmth like a cat. “Remind me to get you cold more often.”

“I hate the cold, ugh. You’re warm though.” You snuggle closer, shutting your eyes and inhaling the scent of his cologne. “Feels so natural.”

“I know, it always scared me.”

“Did it? Wait, are we transitioning to another teen Gojo tale!?”

He chuckles now, one hand brushing against your thigh, you’re wrapped around his arm, his other hand guiding the steering wheel, the lights scattering across the dark night, reflecting his perfect profile. You feel the heat building and building, even worse by the orgasm he’d brought you, planting a little kiss on his neck.

Your lips on his neck drive him so crazy, as does your sweet little body against him, he inhales that scent he’s always loved, this vanilla cupcake scent that makes his mouth water. How do you still smell just like that? How do your lips still taste so sweet, burned in memories.

“I really should tell you how I feel too.” You say softly, and his heart pounds in his ears as he tries to focus on the road. “After your two last stories, Santa.”

“Ah, yes. Be good and listen.” His hand now wraps your waist, making your thoughts anything but nice, but you nod against his neck, holding him close. “We’re up to Senior year, are you ready for the trip?”

“Ready. What part of Senior year, spirit guide?”

“That closet.” His voice gets husky.

“Oh… oh shit.”

*****

The fourth time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Senior Year of High School- age 18

“I can’t believe they put us in here.” You whisper, trapped in the closet with Satoru Gojo, just last week he was proclaimed prom King, and he’s as popular as ever, somehow taller too.

Satoru’s mind is foggy as he stands in the little closet with you, he’s so close he can inhale that scent, he can feel you against him. He feels his body react, god if he just brushes against you it does. And you’re both just not as close as you once were, since the awkwardness of watching you with Nanami, who you even dated for a few months, much to his displeasure to see.

You’re both single now, something that hasn’t happened in some time, it seems Satoru always has arm candy, and you always were left to wonder if he’d ever notice you. Even in a closet, you imagine his mind is far away, perhaps on his ex-girlfriend, the prom queen and cheer captain. You couldn’t even do a somersault without getting injured, a clumsy mess.

You hate comparing yourself, but you can’t help it with Satoru, you’ve had boyfriends now, you’ve had kisses. A little more experience. But something keeps drawing you back to all the what ifs, of how someone can be so close to you, yet so distant, just out of reach, as if you couldn’t touch him like you wanted… some barrier he has.

“They’re just always thinking you have a crush on me.” Satoru says teasingly, cocky as hell. You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Uh huh. Well I don’t.”

“I don’t either.”

For some reason his words hurt you, and deeply.

Just like your errant words hurt him.

Both of you lying, both of you hurting, and for what? Well, because you still can’t picture a world where Satoru likes you, and he can’t manage to open up, to be honest with you. He’s right behind your back, you feel his breaths against your neck, blowing and tickling your hair now, making you tremble.

“Good, wouldn’t wanna break your nerdy heart.” He whispers, hands on your waist, taking it over, long fingers sinking into the jut of your hips. Your breath comes even quicker in the dark, quiet room now.

“You’re mean lately, your head’s so big I don’t know how it fits through doors.” Satoru laughs, meanly, pressing harder against you.

“Not the only thing that’s big.” He whispers, you tremble now, looking back nervously, eyes adjusting in the dark.

“W-well I won’t find out. Not your type.”

“Says who?”

“Says your very long list of girls. And that’s cool, but don’t confuse me.” You turn to him now, pressed against him intimately in the closet, and suddenly everything stops, the world stops, as he holds you in his arms. As he feels your bare skin from your crop top, so sexy he wishes no one else could see you. “Satoru…”

“You’re beautiful.” Your breath stops in your lungs, when he leans in so close, god it’s been four years since middle school, but you can still feel it lingering, that kiss all those years ago. His words muddle your mind.

“What?”

“Beautiful. You always have been, okay? Stop thinking that you’re not.” Your tears hit your eyes, while you tremble in his strong hold, fire coursing through your veins, mind whirling.

“Oh, thank you Satoru. That’s sweet.”

“Sweet? Nah.”

“It is. Thank you.” You lean up now, kissing his cheek, he shuts his eyes at how good you feel, your every curve pressed against him, his hands slipping down your hips now, you gasp, a little breathy, sexy sound. He turns his head now, lips brushing yours for just a moment.

Just a moment and then he’s devouring your mouth, tongue slipping in, taking over everything you are, and you melt with him, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, as he presses you further against him. His hand pulls at your hair, making pain hit your scalp, but it feels so good. You moan, a sound you’ve not made with a guy, and he practically growls now.

Satoru presses you against the wall, the clothes on either side of you separating, dresses on either side of your skin when he lifts you, and your legs wrap around his hips. You pull back to suck in a breath, looking at Satoru with wide eyes, and he glints even in the dark, his lips glossy, he’s breathing as heavy as you. His strong hands grip your thighs, you feel how excited you are then.

“Satoru, what are we doing?” You ask carefully, and he wants to finally say it, in this closet, at some dumb party. He wants to say it, that he’s in love, that kissing you is better than anything he could imagine.

The door knocks now. “Seven minutes over!” You both separate quickly, you adjust your skirt, embarrassed at how you reacted, your nipples tight against your top, clearly visible, judging by his bright blue eyes that are glaring at them.

“What was that!?” You demand in a hushed whisper, and he opens his mouth, as the door keeps knocking. He glares now, opening it, and seeing it’s his ex, prom queen herself, she looks at you both and laughs now.

“Well that was probably a boring seven minutes.” You feel the words crush you, making you feel sick, you can feel you’re literally on fire from him. What is this, is this just what he does!?

Satoru sees you rushing away, and he follows you, ignoring his ex, trailing you and shouting your name. It was your turn to run from him, he supposes, usually it’s him running. He finally catches you, you’re shivering as the chill of autumn is hitting, and you’re barely wearing anything.

“You’re gonna get sick in that, wearing nothing!”

“You’re not my big brother. Certainly not right now after… what even was that!?” You demand, turning to him, eyes glistening with tears.

He feels it like a punch to the gut.

“You can’t just kiss me when you’re bored and date everyone else, everyone in your league.” Tears are falling, you’re shivering, Satoru gulps, shaking his head now.

“No, it’s not that. You’re in anyone’s league, fuck you’re out of anyone’s. I didn’t kiss you because of that.”

“Then why? Don’t you know, it means a lot to me?”

“I…”

“I’m not like you, I don't just sleep around.”

Satoru glares now. “And who says I do?”

“The entire school! And I don’t care as a friend, but I do care if you think I’m available like that.”

“You think I want to fuck you?” He asks, raising a brow, and your heart sinks in your stomach. “I didn’t try to fuck you, did I?”

“Then what…”

“Kissing, in a closet. You think that means sex? You’re cute, little virgin.” He pats your head and you smack at his hand, glaring, hurt written all over your face. Satoru hates himself so much, but he can’t say it, especially now. How can he even begin to tell you the truth!?

“I know what sex is.” Satoru glares. “I’m not an amusement, I’m your friend, you can’t act like that.”

“Fine then I won’t kiss you again, ya happy?”

“No!”

“No?” You shake your head, stomping away now, he grabs your wrist, making you glare at it. “Please, I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what!?” Your face is covered with tears. “Just go get your prom queen, and leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I… I shouldn’t have…”

“Shouldn’t have kissed me?” You whisper, he just gulps, aching to tell you how badly he wants you, to tell you he is in love with you. But he just stands there, like a damn idiot, as you continue to cry, yanking your hand away. “Don’t worry, we’ll just forget it.”

“What!? I didn’t-”

“Good bye.”

*****

Present Day

“Damn this place is beautiful, Satoru.” You murmur as you walk in after riding the elevator up, lingering memories of high school still in the air, creating tension.

His loft is sleek and gorgeous, an expansive open space with high ceilings, windows that overlook the night, you exhale at the view. It’s illuminating the modern room softly, a mix of lights in the buildings and moonlight seeping in. Sleek paintings of all kinds decorate his walls, it’s cozy and inviting, you’ve been here before, but something is different.

Everything is different.

“You want a drink, Sweets?” He murmurs softly, his hands slipping up and down your back, creating a network of goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Am I staying the night Toru?” You tease. He smiles so big now, illuminating the room.

“Of course you are. You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.” Your breath catches at his tone, he casually smirks and saunters off to his kitchen, leaving you pulsing, as if your pussy has a goddamn heartbeat. “Aw, shy now?”

“N-no. I’ll take one.” You follow him into the pretty, sleek kitchen, Satoru has cookies he’s made earlier sitting on the stove, he pulls out bottles from his bar, mixing you up a drink, you take it and eye the cookies. “Are you baking for Santa?”

“I’m interested in your cookie.”

“Oh stop!” You snort in laughter, he does too, finally taking the santa hat off, popping it right on your head carefully. You lean up, slicking back his hair into place, feeling it like silk under your touch.

“You’re getting minimum four orgasms tonight. But I’ll give you a fifth if you can guess the next time I fucked up.”

“Guess? Shit… I think it was the night we both fucked up.”

“Ding-ding-ding.” He taps your nose, you smile at it, then he sips his drink as you do, now leaning back against the counter, looking up at him. “You’ve been so good though, I think I’ll give you another right now.”

“Oh yeah? I’m on the nice list?” You gasp when he’s bending low, sinking two fingers under your panties and inside your eager cunt, he moans out loud with you when you cling to him. “Oh f-fuck…”

“S’tight, s’wet…” He’s pressing that spongy spot in your gummy little walls now, your head falls back, leg wrapped on his, he’s kissing down your neck as he presses over and over, making you see stars. “There’s that spot. Good girl.”

“Toru!” You cry out as he fingers you with his stupidly long fingers, longer than the one guy you’ve been with, longer than his entire cock. You’re sure he didn’t hit as deep as Satoru’s fingers, and he surely didn’t finger you like that. You’re overtaken, cunt dripping down his hand, down to his silver rolex and dress sleeves.

“Hear yourself, huh sweetheart? How fuckin wet you are.” His low tone just edges you further, now he’s pulling back to look at you, and you’re closer and closer.

“Fuck me, please.” You beg, he moans, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

“Oh fuck your santa stories, and fuck me-” He slams his lips on yours, pumping his fingers in and out of your soppy little cunt now, and you hear it squishing lewdly in the quiet loft, he presses other fingers against your breast, squishing as he pumps them, until you fall over the edge now, cumming so hard you can’t see.

“There it is, you’re taking them so good.” He cooes those words, you’re already fucked out and you haven’t even been fucked by him yet. You blink and struggle to make him come into focus, gasping for stuttering breaths.

“Oh my… oh my… I…” The room is spinning, he takes his fingers, dripping wet with your arousal, shoving them into your mouth now.

“Taste how sweet you are.” He orders, and you do just that, sucking on his fingers, tongue swirling around them, your pussy is pulsing more and more wetness out, as you crave more of him. “God you’re sexy.”

“Please…” You pull him down by his collar, kissing him, swapping the taste of you, only making Satoru harder. He can’t wait to bury his face in your plump little cunt, god it’s all he can think of.

“Patience. You came twice already, look at me.” You grab him then, and he about dies, nearly cumming from your touch, gasping.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck you’re a little horny brat. You have one more story.” You sigh then, head falling back, for more of Satoru’s kisses and bites, he wants to fuck you senseless, but he also wants to savor this, to make this perfect for you.

“Oh fine but I’m aching.”

Well so is he, precum making a wet spot in his boxers, straining against the fabric of his jeans, just from the smallest little touch. You’re so wet and hot there, so greedily your cunt sucked up his fingers, he can only hope he can last, if you touch him at all it will probably end him. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long.

“One more story, can you last?” He challenges. You giggle then, nodding.

“I can make it.” He studies you, bright eyed in that damn santa hat, imagining how beautiful your body must look while he gently strokes your shoulders, you bite your lip, eyes lidded with desire.

He hopes he can make it too.

*****

The Fifth time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

College- Sophomore year- age 20

Everyone was celebrating the ball game, they had won nationals, and everyone was praising the all stars, Suguru and Satoru. They also were top of the fraternity, none of this was really your style, you were focused a little more on academics, though you helped Satoru study a ton to keep his high GPA, he was as smart as could be and still could accomplish so much.

You had been so proud of him, cheering him on from the stands eagerly. You all had taken some time to make up after that high school party, but truly you couldn’t be mad at him for long. You equated it to some strong spiked punch and being shoved in a closet together, close proximity. It certainly couldn’t be anything else.

Satoru comes up to you now with a big wide grin on his face, picking you up and spinning you, donned only in a Toga, showing far too much of his chiseled body. “Missed you short stuff!”

“Missed you too, Toru.” He hugs you so tight you hear your damn ribs creak, before he finally sets you down.

“You at a Frat Party!?”

“Yes, I had to celebrate the victory with you. So I make an appearance.”

“Elusive.” Suguru comes up and says, you hug him tightly.

“I miss you too!”

“You should hang out more.” He looks at Satoru. “Way more, shouldn’t she?”

“Um what? Sure.” He shrugs, looking away, as his friend calls him the fuck out, but luckily you’re oblivious, still a little shy, insecure thing.

If you were his you’d never feel that way.

But could you ever be? Or was Satoru stuck in this friend zone with you, until you move on, get married, have kids… go be a writer, he’s sure you’ll be famous, you’re so talented. And he’ll marry who he’s supposed to, who his parents pressure him to, and have a career with basketball, soon what would you all be, memories of each other?

But then why do you still wear it?

It’s a charm on your bracelet now, he imagines the little rope it was on broke long ago with all the wear it got, but you have his little yin charm right there, along with more charms you’ve added over the years. His gaze darts up your body, you’re wearing a sexy little grecian gown to go with the theme, with a golden crown in your hair of fake leaves.

You’ve even got glitter all over your skin, you’re so damn beautiful, like an actual goddess. So effortlessly pretty you take his breath away, he feels the effects of studying your curves right on his cock, he shifts then, hoping you can’t see it. But your eyes remain on his, as Suguru hands you a beer.

“Thanks Suguru. You all know I don’t drink these though.”

“Oh don’t be a baby, do it.” Satoru teases, you snort, and Satoru’s watching hungrily as you sip it. “What a baby sip.”

“I’m not chugging it!”

“Well I’m doing a keg stand.” Suguru gives you a little peck on the cheek, smirking as he earns Satoru’s ire. He knows more than anyone how long Satoru has been pathetic for you.

How do you not know?

“Go have fun, crazy.” You step a little closer to Satoru now, looking at the loud game of beer pong.

“Wanna play?”

“Oh god no, I’ll suck so bad.”

“Nah, c’mon.” Satoru drags you over by your hand, wondering if tonight could be the night. He’s coming off this high of winning that championship, you’re standing here looking like Venus herself, surely he can do it.

Why is he so afraid to tell you?

Soon you all are competitive, but he’s winning, annihilating you honestly, smacking every bounce you attempt, throwing and sinking endless pong balls into those solo cups. You pout now, earning his laughter as you keep sipping on your beer, until you end up with another. You finally sink one and bounce up and down, arms in the air, so fucking cute.

“Haha- take that, Toru!” You place your hands on your hips, sticking your tongue out, he’s reminded of the day he met you, the day he thought you were so cute he needed to yank your pigtails, and you’d stuck out a tongue.

“One hit and you’re claiming victory? What are you, the goddess of war?”

“Goddess of nothing, silly. You’re the one looking like a god.” You flush so damn cute now, looking down shyly at your words.

“A god hmm? Fits me.”

“Oh you’re so conceited.” You roll your eyes at him, but he does look like one, his strong, long, chiseled frame. He’s so gorgeous it makes you ache, he always has been, but it’s like every time you see him it’s worse, this need, this desire.

To be with him in so many ways.

Ways you haven’t yet, ways you shouldn’t want him.

“Finish the game, brat.” He tosses a ball your way, you laugh now, sinking another one and cheering, and soon you’re both a little tipsy, and playing together against Shoko and Suguru.

You both kick their asses, much to their dismay, Shoko opts for vodka shots like a classy bitch, Suguru is on another keg stand, and you and Satoru are giggling and dancing around to the music. It’s so loud you feel it thrumming through your entire body, Satoru’s so easy to fall into, you keep trying to hold back, but how can you? When he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

And how can Satoru ever hold back with you? He’s tried, four different times, to tell you how much he loves you, yet… How can he? As he’s grabbing your hip, pulling you against him, your head falling on his chest, as you’re grinning so big, he just… has to say it.

He has to.

“I need to say something…” He murmurs then, you can barely hear him, leaning up closer.

“Hmm? What Toru?”

Someone bumps into you then, knocking you against Gojo, and he glares now, shoving at the drunk frat brother. You wave your arms to stop him. “What the fuck man, watch it.”

“Shit, my bad Gojo, chill.” He then grins all big as he looks at you, where your toga is now falling, revealing far too much of your breast. You squeak, quickly trying to pin it up, and now Gojo’s torn between wanting to see you, and anger at this asshole. Gojo shoves him into a wall then.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at her.” He says through his teeth, surprising you then.

“What, she's your girl? Weren’t you just banging a girl out last night?” He says with a laugh, and Satoru pauses, but you hear it.

You feel sick then, stepping back, how can you be so dumb, to think Satoru would want you, or choose you!? He’s never going to be interested, the only times he’s kissed you he was… why had he kissed you!? What was this friendship? Was it a friendship at all or you holding on to the idea of hope with him.

You’re blinking back stupid tears as you run off to a room, sobbing as you struggle to fix your toga, only for Satoru to walk in. You glare now.

“Go!”

“We’re not together, why are you mad if I fuck someone?” He demands, and you sputter, shaking your head, tears hot and sticky as they fall.

“I shouldn’t be upset.”

“Then why?” He’s right against you, big hands on your shoulders, you look up at him now, mascara streaking down your cheeks, his stomach drops at it.

“Because I’ll never be… I’ll never be…”

“Be what?”

“Yours.”

“Wh-what!?” You shake your head now, running out of the room, Satoru’s chasing you, reminiscent of two years ago, fuck it’s always a chase, a push and pull. “Come here! Stop it!”

“No, I’m done with this, with you giving me bits of affection, only to ruin them.” You shove at him now, he’s grabbing you, pulling you against him. “Don’t you kiss me, don’t you dare tease me.”

“I don’t kiss you to tease you, I kiss you-”

“For a game!”

“Shut your mouth.”

You scowl. “You shut your mouth.” Satoru shuts both your mouths, as you’re outside the insane frat house, pressing you against the brick wall of the dormitory, smothering your lips with his. You bite his lower lip, glaring as he pulls back.

“Stop running from me, stop hiding.” He begs, and you sigh.

“Why should I? I won’t be a notch on your bedpost.”

“You think-” Several people start filing out now, and Satoru’s got you pressed right on that wall, his chest heaving as he hovers, as the chaos ensues all around you both. “You think you’re that to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you. A friend you kiss every two fucking years or so?” You say with an angry glare, and he cups your waist, burning your bare skin with his touch, shooting desire straight through you.

��You’re so much more than that. If you’d just let me show you.” He whispers, but you’re so scared then, of letting go, your breathing gets erratic, as you feel his thigh pressing between yours, moving on it, earning his soft moan, vibrating his chest as your hands slip up it. “I have to tell you something, please.”

“I’m listening, mmm.” You arch again, craving him so badly, nothing like you’ve felt with anyone, it’s so maddening.

“I really… I really…” Satoru’s pausing now, stuttering, you make him a mess, he’s resting his head on yours, feeling your heat, thinking of sinking into it. Sure he had girls, only because he couldn’t have you. You were his all consuming thoughts, but how does he put it to words?

“Really…” You urge him on, and he gulps then, panicking. What if you don’t feel the same!? What if he ruins this…

“I really… you’re really…”

“Satoru! Satoru!” They all start cheering then, a whole group of his frat brothers, fists pumping in the air, and he lets you go, leaving you aching with need, he looks at you so longingly, you’re dying to know just what he wanted to say, but he smiles then, kissing your cheek, shaking his head.

“Come on.” He yanks you with him, as everyone starts chanting for Satoru, and you try to pretend you are okay, as Satoru hides his feelings yet again, and as you think maybe you should give up on it happening.

You’re in love with him, and it hurts.

How can you let him go finally?

*****

Present Day

“You were trying to tell me something. Important.” You say softly now, in Satoru’s cozy kitchen, and he nods then, gulping, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I was. I was trying to confess… that I love you.” You blink once, twice, three times. Surely you’re dreaming. Surely he can’t…

“You love me?” You whisper back, and he nods, so beautiful as he cups your face in his big hands.

“So you see, baby… I can’t just hook up.” Satoru’s words bring you to the present, his eyes are glossy, mirroring the deep emotions you both feel, your breaths come faster, as he lifts you up, placing you on his counter.

“All this time… you felt the same?” You whisper, he swipes at your tears now, smiling.

“You crying?” He asks, and you just nod, remembering that day. “I’ve loved you since I threw those snowballs at you. So, so long ago, I knew it, that I was in love with this pretty, sweet girl.”

“Satoru…” You snatch him to you, kissing him through your falling tears, salty against your sweet lips. Satoru’s heart feels so achingly full, his hands shake as he slips them up your thighs, he’s never been nervous until now. Never felt anything like this, like your thighs around his narrow hips, pressing his fingers into the plush of them.

“There can be no hook up, pretty. I need you to be mine if you want this, I need you to be only mine.” Satoru says softly, possessive now, you feel yourself melting more and more, feel the insane need build inside of you.

“Satoru, I’m in love with you too. I have been, since you gave me your jacket after plowing me with giant snowballs, you mean little shit.” He laughs now, through his own tears, that you swipe with trembling fingers, exhaling. “Oh Satoru, I’ve always been yours.”

He slams his lips on you now, picking you up in his arms, you cling to him as he clumsily navigates you to his room, your tongues not stopping, teeth clicking together with the force of your kisses. You’re drinking every bit of him in, as he’s drinking you in, barely coming up for air, in gasps. Your kisses get hungrier, messier, sloppier than anything you’ve ever known.

Satoru’s hands are all over you as he lays you down on his bed, pressing you into his soft, plush mattress, leaning up to study you, carefully, brushing his fingers across your cheeks, wiping the last of your tears. “All mine?”

“All yours.” He moans again, kissing you deeply, hands slipping up your dress, you’re arching up for more of his touch, his kisses, hands hastily unbuttoning his dress shirt, kissing each piece of revealed skin.

“Baby… I need to see you. Now. Please.” He says softly, giving you puppy dog eyes, you nod, so nervous, when he pulls back, pulling you to sit, and slipping your dress up over your head, the santa hat falling with it. When you’re bare to him aside from your damn panties and lacy little bra, he groans. “Oh my god.”

You are so beautiful his heart pounds in his chest, Satoru drinks you in, your every perfect curve and line, every inch of your silky smooth skin on display. He unlatches your bra with a quick flick, revealing those perfect tits he’d sucked on earlier, god you make his mouth salivate. He’s literally drooling when he gets to your panties now, a soaking mess.

“You got so wet.” He cooes, enjoying your reaction, your hips shifting, thighs pressing together, as he eases them off you, finally seeing your pussy for the first time. “Fuck it’s perfect.”

“Th-thank you… Toru!” He’s lost it now, hungrily staring at your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal, lips all puffy from his edging. He exhales, just his breath making you shiver, crying out.

“So easy, hmm?”

“Oh you… ah!” Satoru breathes against you again, grinning as you jerk, as much as he wants to make love love to you, god he also wants to fuck you senseless.

“Imma ruin you for anyone.” His insane words versus the sweetness wreck you already, you’re screaming out when he flicks his tongue up your slit, looking down into his bright blue eyes, seeing the shift. Satoru is going feral as he inhales you, pressing his face against you, nose bumping your engorged clit, kissing at your entrance.

“Toru!” Your hands are gripping his hair so tightly you’re pulling it, as you feel him against you, as he tastes you there. Then he’s devouring your pussy, spreading the lips wide, tongue sliding into your velvety walls, fucking you with it, making you start to gush all over his pretty face, moaning as your back arches.

Satoru’s lapping up all your honeyed arousal, as you start dripping everywhere, and your walls are fluttering around that wet muscle. “F-fuck, taste s’good… god could do this forever.”

“Ngh!” Is all you manage, incoherent at the pleasure his mouth is giving you, feeling your peak coming as he slips two fingers back in you, pulling back and looking up at you, face glittering in your slick. The sight of it edges you on, as he finally licks your clitoris, just one flick and you shatter.

“That’s it, good girl… s’good f’me.” He whispers, as you’re pulsing around his thick fingers, and he laps up more of your cum. “You’re so messy.”

“M-messy…” You can’t function, you’re trembling with aftershocks, he grins at you, an insane feral fucking grin, his silky white locks falling just so. “Please, lemme see you.” You manage, and he gulps now, blushing pink, shocking you since he’d just been so cocky. “Satoru, lemme touch you.”

“Not too much, I won’t last.” He admits, and leans back off the bed standing, you watch him, raising up on your elbows, hair falling down behind you softly like a curtain. He starts to get undressed, and you drink every inch he bares in slowly, his hard, chiseled body, all the lean muscles, abs cut within an inch of your life. Your eyes go lower now as he unbuckles his belt.

You bite your lip, cunt still aching from his play, from the pleasure he has brought you, but when he gets to his boxers, and your eyes trail down the white hair below his belly button you gasp. His cock slaps that belly button when he takes off his boxers, and Satoru Gojo is huge, thick, long with a curved pink tip, beading with pearly white precum already.

“Oh my god… you’re so beautiful, Satoru.” You say softly, coming to your knees on the bed, he exhales nervously, he has always known he looks good, but hearing you say it meant everything. Seeing the desire makes your eyes dilate and glitter, as your eyes worship him.

“You’re beautiful, especially on your knees.” You kiss down his abdomen, then you kill him, when you grip his cock with your tiny little hand, that friendship charm still dangling from your wrist, and God Satoru cannot wait to buy you real jewelry, a ring to glitter as you stroke him.

His hands enwrap in your hair, pulling it into a ponytail as you lap at his tip with a kitten flick, making his eyes roll back, he can tell you’re maybe not experienced as you try to suck, making out with his tip, but he loves it, he loves you. Anything you’re doing to him, your soft strokes and you sucking more and more, until you’re drooling all over his cock.

“I need to be inside you, now baby. Sorry, I can't take this.” He has you back on your back so quick you barely blink, and then you feel him, stroking his thick tip on your slick cunt, you’re shaking, arching up, so ready.

“Will it fit though?” You ask, and he chuckles, blushing more now.

“As wet as this pussy is? Fuck yeah it will.” You whimper as he’s kissing you, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and aligning his cock with your soaking entrance. “You ready?”

You nod, breath shaky, and Satoru pushes in, so slowly, letting you feel every inch of his thickness filling you up, stretching you. You feel so full, so complete with him inside you, he gasps as he sinks deeper, stretching and burning your skin, but you crave it, you want more, more, more.

He grips your hands, entwining them above your head, so intimate and beautiful you want to cry. “God, baby, you’re so tight. So wet. Fuck… look at you.” He sinks in deeper, lifting a thigh now, releasing a hand, eyes studying every bit of your face as you take more of him. “So pretty.”

“Satoru!” You’re whining out, your nails digging into his back as his cock sliding deeper, deeper still, so many inches you can’t comprehend, until he’s shoved so deep you feel him against your cervix. “Oh my god…”

“Oh my god…” He moans right with you, your pussy clenching him so tight, he can feel your walls gripping him like a vise, but you take him, fuck you take him, so greedy your slick little cunt, pushing him over the edge. “Fuck.. that’s it… slutty little cunt loves it, hmm?”

“Slutty, I- you- ah! There, there!” You scream out when he hits that spot with his tip, dragging on it inside your walls, and you’re pouring so much wetness you can hear it, as the gentle slap slap slap of his pelvis on your ass hits, as his balls are smacking your little ass hole, and his white hair is grinding on your clit when he bottoms out, you’re soaking his veiny length, dripping onto his fancy covers.

“That’s it, baby, s’good. Taking this dick like it’s made for you.” He huffs, fucking you harder now, faster, making you shudder as he slips his hand between you both, pressing a thumb against your clit, making you cum so hard all you see is stars, glittery fucking darkness.

Is this what you’ve been missing!?

“L-love you…. L-love - ah!” You’re brokenly confessing as he lifts a thigh, pressing it high, yanking your hips down more on his length, fucking you harder and harder with every thrust.

“You’re m-mine now, baby. All - f-fuck- mine, to fuck whenever I want, however I want. Got me baby?” He whispers, losing it over you, you’re so perfect, so wet, so pretty under him, he’s imagining every position he wants you in, every place he wants to fuck you in, how he wants to cum in your perfect little cunt, fill you. “Answer me baby, answer me.”

His voice is whiny, pleading, you’re barely able to take a breath or function, damn near falling off the earth, clinging to his perfect skin for any stability, as he starts to pound mercilessly into your pussy. Sweat drips down his nose onto one of your breasts, which he squishes with his hand, pinching your nipple and twisting as he fucks so hard it hurts.

“Too much, too much.” You manage, and he smiles now, that cocky Satoru you’ve known your whole life, leaning down and rolling his hips just so, grinding that leaky tip against your cervix, pushing you to cum again, this time you’re drooling, mouth wide open.

“Aw you’re s’cute like this… look at you. Drooling. Dumb fucked out look.” You can’t even be mad, you want him to keep going, so you whine, nodding just a bit, earning his grin. “And you like it, being so slutty just for me. Only me.”

“Y-you.” Is all you manage, but it’s enough to send him over the fucking edge, pressing your thighs up high, smushing your breasts, now he’s so deep you feel him everywhere, your stomach, your entire body, he’s moaning as he watches your tummy bulge between your thighs.

“Feel me, everywhere, fucking up your guts… huh?” You just weakly nod, whining as you’re so embarrassingly wet, you hear every slutty sound of his cock wrecking you. “Made f’me, s-say it again.”

“Made for ah- y-you! Satoru!” He’s groaning, leaning his heavy weight on you, pelvis smacking hard as he stuffs you so full, too fucking full, and now he’s cupping your face, insane swirling blue eyes drinking you in.

“Anyone fill you yet, baby?” You shake your head, and he grins even more psychotically. “Good, Imma fill you up, gonna be d-dripping me for days.”

“C-cum in me, cum in me. D-do it, please.” You beg, you don’t fucking care, you want it, you need it. His hips stutter, mouth dropped open as his cock thrusts harder and harder in your now sloppy pussy, so wet and needy she’s sucking him up.

“Cum in you? F-fill you baby?” He’s so sweet now, a psychotic contradiction that you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of. “Put a baby in you?”

“Baby!? I… fuck it… yes! Put one in me, please.” You’re pathetic for him, and he relishes in it, starting to thicken, as your cunt milks him.

“Gonna breed you, f-fuck you feel so- ah - gonna breed your pussy, every fucking day, got me? Say yes baby.”

“Y-yes, please…” He whimpers then, Satoru Gojo, all star, prom king, the strongest man you know, whimpers as he begins to cum inside you so deep, coating your walls with his hot white ropes. You cum just from that, clinging to him, he slams his lips on yours over and over in messy kisses.

“Never felt this, oh my god… your pussy what the… yes baby take it all… f-fuck please…” He’s whining as he pushes his cum deeper inside you, stuffing you so full, still pressing you up, folding you. You’re sobbing now, overwhelmed, pussy so sore but she’s milking him more, even as he’s dripping down his cock and your ass, mixed with your glistening cum.

He’s exhaling now, easing your thighs down, kissing you deeply, over and over, you’re clinging to him, trembling legs so sore, still full of him. He leans up and takes a deep breath, looking at you with those endless blue eyes, eyes that you adore, that face you adore. You get choked up now, tears falling, tears that he gently wipes, like he wasn’t just pounding your cunt.

He’s looking at how beautiful you are under him, the girl he’s loved for as long as he’s even known, tears glittering pretty on your cheeks. “You’re pretty crying, y’know that?”

“Sadistic ass. That’s why you threw the snowballs.” He smiles down at you, so handsome your heart aches.

“You’re mine now. Mine forever.” His words should be crazy, but as you look at the little charm glittering in the night, cupping his face, his words aren’t crazy at all.

“I want to be yours forever. Satoru, I have for so long. I’ve been so scared when you leave…”

“You’re coming with me. Yeah? Basketball wife?” He says with a grin, and you nod then, through your tears, through your smile, a myriad of emotions.

When he’s cleaned you up, and it’s slowly falling snow outside, Satoru has you in his lap once more, his Santa hat on, as you sip cocoa. “Are there more stories I need to know about, Santa Toru?” You ask teasingly, lapping a little whipped cream from your steaming hot mug.

“There is the time I saw you in the girls locker room.”

You glare. “What now!?”

“On accident!”

“Oh this better be good.” You snatch his cocoa up with a scowl.

“Don’t take my cocoa baby, you’ll get on the naughty list.” He says with a glare, and you’re glaring right back.

“Oh, I’m so scared Santa!” He bends you over the chair now, slipping his hand up under the dress shirt of his you’re wearing, with nothing else. You gasp when his hand smacks your ass cheek, making you jolt, desire pooling in your tummy all over again, when he leans forward over you.

“Merry Christmas. It’s midnight.” He says, you peek at that watch, as he smacks your other ass cheek, and you’re moaning, head falling back. “Looks like you’re not gonna be able to sit for Christmas dinner.”

And that was the final time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings, and this time it worked, and you felt the same the entire time <3

I hope you all enjoyed the cuteness and idiots in love, it was a request for a 5+1 that FLEW off the handle. Ty for readingggg

Gen Masterlist here

Geto’s 5+1 HERE

#gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo

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vampjaeyun · 5 months ago

Text

STRAWBERRY LOLLY

PAIRING shy nerd!sunghoon x confident fem!reader | wc: 1.5k

WARNINGS vague smut, miniskirt agenda (duh), sunghoon is a perv and he got it bad, dom!sunghoon

However, one aspect that stands out on this particular day is the sugary rock between the lips he loves so much. God, Sunghoon practically busts at the sight.

NOTES hi first post kinda nervy

PARK SUNGHOON has the hots for you.

It has only been a few months since he’s known of you. And it’s not enough time to build the courage to approach you.

What can he say?

You look unfathomable. Something so unreachable. Especially for someone like him.

He sits far across the room as the professor rambles on, stealing glances, wondering if you’ll notice him one day. It was hard to keep his mind at bay, to prevent walking up to you. He knew that he would ramble and mess it all up. Or stutter while attempting to acquaint himself with you.

He realized that admiring from afar was the best solution to the issue at hand. And it proved to be a good one.

That is, until it became unbearable. More specifically, sinful. And today is one where it seems God is testing him.

You return to the classroom and Sunghoon automatically straightens his posture– his doodling on the notebook gone astray.

You’re sporting the same mini skirt he loves so much and those legs are perfectly on display for everyone to see. It’s definitely not because they’re so short your panties practically peek out without having to look under.

He doesn’t know how you do it. How you claim attention to any room you walk in. Heads automatically turn in your direction the second you step foot into it. But you play dumb, acting as if the people in the room don’t automatically moan at the sight of you.

And whether it’s the perfect posture or the pearly smile you showcase, you’re far out of reach for the quiet, stereotypical glasses-wearing nerd, whose favorite class is calculus. And it’s most definitely because you’re in this class too.

However, one aspect that stands out on this particular day is the sugary rock between the lips he loves so much.

God, Sunghoon practically busts at the sight.

The glassy ball between your lips that you occasionally run your tongue along has him losing all composure. You’re innocently conversing with your classmate beside you, innocently grazing the tip of the red lollipop against your bottom lip, and innocently putting it back into your mouth in one motion. Your cheeks hollow, and he salivates at you sucking on the sticky candy. He knows he’s far away, yet believes his eyesight couldn’t be any clearer.

His leg starts to mindlessly shake once scenarios run wild, and one point he makes clear to himself is that the flavor is strawberry. It fits you perfectly, he thinks. The strawberry lollipop tints your lips a fitting scarlet shade, the gloss resembling honey as you continue to edge him beyond belief with the repetition of your ministrations.

But as he continues to gawk from across the room, your orbs shoot directly into his.

It’s so sudden that he moves to deter from your glare at all costs and reverts back to random doodling. Sweat dribbles down alongside his temple because your sharp eyes contain purpose behind them, and he prays that the purpose isn’t him.

You’re definitely going to call him out for being a creep if anything.

But a tap on his shoulder forces him to address the siren in heels behind him, and as he turns, Sunghoon can hardly meet your inviting eyes.

And just like taking a breath, your syrupy voice addresses him for the first time. He wonders if you feel an ounce of what he’s feeling at the moment.

Surely not, because you act as if you’ve known him your whole life.

“Hey Hoonie, can I talk to you for a second?” you infer with your hands pressed against the edge of his desk. And it’s proving impossible to look straight into your eyes, even more at your tits pressed together, spilling out of your top.

“Shoot,” he mentally applauses himself for a collective response.

“I need a tutor,” you frown, and all he thinks about is how your face would look when you cum.

“I’m on the verge of failing, and I know you’re about to check off a hundred percent in the class.”

“Yeah o-of course. I have to make sure my schedule’s open first.”

“Great! My place or your place?” you bat your lashes innocently.

Sunghoon swears if you do one more thing, he’ll cum in his pants right then and there. There’s not much more he can take. “Anywhere is fine. I gotta go though. We can discuss the details in class tomorrow.”

You’re giggling at his shyness, quick to follow his scurrying around the desk. “Or we can keep talking since I like talking to you so much.”

You’ve got him staring like a deer in headlights, “You do?”

“Do you?” you inquire while also wondering when he’ll drop the shy act.

An opportunity like this most likely won’t ever happen again. And the countless times Jake has called him a pussy for not shooting his shot only motivates him that much more. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?”

“Maybe because I enjoy hearing answers I like,” you raise a brow at his sudden confidence, but your interest is showcased through the closing proximity between the two of you with each word that escapes your throat.

Sunghoon notices the glint of surprise in your eyes when you realize he wasn’t going to cower backwards.

His thoughts, on the other hand, were the complete opposite of his cowardly actions. In fact, he wonders how’d you react if he kissed you until your lips were bruised. Or if you liked it if he wrapped his entire hand full of your hair and tugged ‘til his heart’s content.

But in the end, your answer has him speechless, and you fully grin at that. “Let me know the answer to mine when you get the chance.”

You’re turning around to leave the shaky boy alone, but something catches your wrist.

“Tomorrow. Eight p.m., my place,” he’s breathing pattern quickens and he thickly gulps as he awaits your response.

And you giggle at his eagerness. “Can’t wait.”

And that’s how you ended up at his place the following night. Sunghoon had successfully helped complete a total of five questions before your hand slithered up his thigh and the subject of derivatives flew out the window.

To be honest, he doesn’t care he gave in so fast.

He’s so easy. So easy for you.

And you knew that. You took advantage of how he averted your gaze at all costs, yet you could still feel the heat of his stare when you looked away. Usually preferring men who are more dominant and masculine in and out of the bedroom, you took this as a challenge to stray out of your comfort zone.

You couldn’t lie though, Sunghoon’s awkward mannerisms are awfully cute. A bonus was he wasn’t hard on the eyes either. Your friends often scolded you for wanting to pursue him, but you ignored their incessant warnings.

And when you made due of your promise, you were surprised at how he was able to get a few words out.

What was even more surprising was the night that followed.

“Fuck—mnph!” your moans are muffled into the pillow as Sunghoon plows into your sopping cunt from behind. His palm envelops the entirety of your nape, pushing your head harder with each thrust. Your entire spine buzzes with pleasure, and his fingers digging into your neck only heighten the feeling.

“This is for underestimating me,” he seethes. You wish you were facing him to see his darkened persona.

“I w-w,” you barely get out.

“You what?” his hoarse voice mixes with a groan at your velvety walls sucking him like a vice.

“I-I wish I c-could take a pict-ture,” Sunghoon’s fingers press deeper with each word that escapes your throat, and you giggle. You’d never imagine the loser in class could get you pussy drunk.

“Go ahead,” he seethes before pulling out and flipping you over to your back.

“Wha-” you can’t even finish the word before he’s roughly thrusting into your pussy in one motion and continuing with the same pace.

“Hoon! Fuck,” you’re under his spell while the bed frame rhythmically knocks against the wall.

“I should take a picture of you like this,” he turns your slack jaw so you are able to look at him.

He chuckles once his eyes make contact with your hooded ones. “With drool and tears decorating your face while I use you as a cock-sleeve.”

Your fists ball as the drag of his cock overwhelms you. “So full,” you moan, and he rewards your comment with another harsh snap of his hips.

“Remember,” Sunghoon sets your calves against his shoulder and leans down against your ear. It feels unworldly, his cock pushing deeper and rougher into your cervix.

“Remember who makes you feel this way,” he whispers.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon park #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha smut #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #enha sunghoon #enha park sunghoon #enha sunghoon smut

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bi-writes · 7 months ago

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ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!ghost

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personapeters · 1 month ago

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✰ 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭-𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— frat boyfriend rafe if he turned to college instead of crime (lol)

rating: sfw — cw: a little suggestive, language

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… during the day wears his regular rich boy attire: a polo, fitted shorts, and sneakers worth more than a semesters tuition. after hours, you’ll find him casually dressed in a university branded tee that hugged his biceps oh-so perfectly, gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a backwards snapback that held his long hair out of his face — perfection.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is supposed to wear glasses but rarely does, saying they make him look like ‘a fucking geek’. eventually, he became comfortable enough to wear them around you and only you in the privacy of your dorm, and you’d tease him about how he’s the hottest ‘geek’ you’ve ever seen.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… never lets you walk back to your dorm alone, no matter the time or circumstance. whether it be broad daylight or the middle of the night, he makes zero exceptions — he’s seen the way some of the guys interacted with the girls on campus and he’ll burn the place down before it happens to you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… isn’t really fond of coffee unless its fully black, but occasionally brings you your favorite cream filled and sugar loaded latte when you have an early morning class, loving how much sweeter it makes your mouth taste.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… begrudgingly walks (practically drags) your drunk friends back to their dorms whenever you ask him to, though he couldn’t care less how they got home. as terrible as it sounds, he only does it for you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… enjoys to show you off to his frat brothers but simultaneously hates when they look at you. it didn’t make sense, and he was well aware of that, but it’s true — in a ‘look how hot my girl is’ yet a ‘she’s mine, don’t look at her’ way.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… met you at the campus library, as cliche as it is. he was only there to make quick deal outside, but when he spotted you through a window as your fingers grazed the spines of the books on the shelf, he knew he had to go inside.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… loves when you wear his university branded t-shirts and hoodies, loving how they swallow you whole as your sleeping gowns or when you roll them up, paired with leggings: “fuck, keep that one — looks so fuckin’ good on you.”

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… insists on covering any and every cost that your scholarships don’t and more; books, supplies, dorm furniture, food, clothes, gas, fees, whatever. of course, you were bewildered as to how a college student had enough money to fund someone else’s life, let alone their own, but once you learned the entirety of his lengthy backstory, it all made plenty of sense.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has gotten into his fair share of fights over you, feeling it’s mandatory that everyone on campus knows who’s girl you are and what happens when they challenge that. let it be a suggestive comment or a lingering touch, rafe’s always quick to set shit straight. typically, that type of behavior would result in expulsion, but with the cameron family’s high status and money, rafe was never actually punished for anything.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only made it into the same university as you due to his wealth. sure, he was smart but wouldn’t have made it in without his monetary advantage. he’d often get angry and frustrated whenever doing work he simply couldn’t master, but you were like his personal tutor, reassuring him that he can, he just needs to take the time and study (with your help, of course).

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has your schedule memorized, often casually leaning outside of your classroom with his arms crossed over his chest as he waits for you to emerge so he can shamelessly perform some p.d.a. before escorting you to your next location.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… once brought you to visit his home town on a break, the outer banks, taking you to all of his favorite spots and, hesitantly, introducing you to his close friends and family. he even explained the whole ‘pogues vs kooks’ thing, emphasizing his distaste for the latter — you honestly thought it was insane: “y’know… if i grew up here, i’d’ve been a ‘pogue’, too,” you reasoned. “yeah, well, you didn’t,” he stated stoically.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only went to college with the plan to build his credentials, promising his father he’d soon join in on running the family business. his father was impressed to hear that, saying, “really? wow… m’proud of you, son,” hugging him firmly in a way he seldom did; all rafe’s ever wanted was to be loved and accepted by his dad, and this was his way to do it.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is very aware of and annoyed by how other girls throw themselves at him during parties or in the halls — instead of it fueling his ego, it only angers him because he knows they can see you standing right next to him: “swear the bitch is fuckin’ stupid… like she doesn’t see my hand on your ass.”

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silknspice · 2 months ago

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STICKY SITUATION

⎯ ୨୧ pairings: fake dating! vi x reader

⎯ ୨୧ content: mentions of alcohol, college au, lying, swearing, fake dating tropes used, lowercase intended, not proofread, wc 3.5k

“no telling anyone, i’ll be coming to all of your hockey games and after parties, and absolutely no tongue when kissing.”

you looked up at vi for reassurance after reciting the pink-written “rules” paper in front of you. the pinkette hummed, muscular and defined arms moving from their position draped over the top of the couch to her manspread knees as she shifted to lean slightly forward.

caitlyn kiramman and violet lane were officially over. it was assumed to be a mutual breakup that both parties would grieve on for the appropriate amount of time, but the soft launch the pinkett awoke to on caitlyn’s story the next morning spoke otherwise. maddie nolen. getting with the woman she told vi “not to worry about” was low, all vi could do was go lower.

and so she enlisted you. stunning, charming, intelligent, an all-rounder. the way caitlyn clung onto her ex-lover for dear life when you were around, as if vi were a mere moth and you were light. if anyone would give the “mongoose”, as vi called her, a run for her money, it’d be you.

“it’s a solid contract, for now.” she agreed. her eyes lingered on yours for a moment before flickering to her dorm window, the absence of light prompting her to lean back once more and speak. “it’s late, y’know. why don’t you stay the night?”

you paused on your way to stand before finishing the movement. “charming, really, but you don’t have to offer that, vi. i’ll walk back to my building. thanks thoug-” the girl drowned out your words with her reassuring ones.

“stay,” she simply insisted, backtracking as a beat passed and she had yet to explain. “it’d look good for the deal, y’know? besides.. we have some details to solidify.” as she finished speaking she lifted a hand and waved you over with only two fingers.

you set your bag back down and scoffed at the action. “i’m not a dog.” your feisty claim was cancelled out by the way you followed her command like a puppy.

you sat on the couch next to violet. closer than usual, but still too far for her liking. the hockey player rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk crossing her face. “not there, honey.” you furrowed your brows, looking around to see what could possibly be wrong with your arrangement. “then where am i supposed to sit?”

vi’s hint of a grin attempted to stay hidden, tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she leaned over and grabbed your hips to flip you to straddle her lap on the couch.

“where it’s easiest for me to give you a hickey.”

you laughed, shaking your head and using your arms to lean back from vi’s chest. at the sound of silence in the room your smile dropped, staring at the girl eyeing you expectantly.

“you’re serious?” you asked louder than intended, mouth agape as the girl moved her hands to rest at your hips. “people won’t believe we’re a couple just because we said so,” she started. “especially not caitlyn, she’s too smart..” you added, beginning to understand her perspective.

“exactly,” she whispered, leaning in. “b’sides, we need to practice.”

vi leaned in, caressing the back of your head to hold you closer as she latched onto the side of your neck. she placed a gentle kiss before sucking a bit harder. you hummed as she slid a hand up to hold your hair before detaching from your neck with a pop.

“there.” she spoke softly, eyeing the red and purple love bite forming. “perfect."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“perfect,” you smiled, picking up the letterman jacket vi placed in front of your position on the bed. “violence” was written on the back rather than her last name. clad in nothing but a t shirt and shorts as pajamas, you slid the jacket on to see how it fit. as you adjusted it and fixed your hair, vi walked up to her bed and held up her phone.

“smile,” she spoke quickly, snapping a photo of your soft smile and slightly confused eyes.

“what was that for?” you muttered, watching vi’s frame as she sat next to you and turned her screen.

already posted on vi’s snap story was a photo of you, sat on her bed, legs appearing bare as the girl’s letterman and oversized tee covered your shorts. the text on the screen read “post ‘workout’”.

“vi!” you sputtered, letting out a gentle laugh as you hit her shoulder and earned a playful grin from the girl. “hey- now we’re on the map.” the pinkett reassured you with a smug look as she opened the various messages responding to the story.

‘ITS NINE IN THE MORNINGG’ ‘crazy work’

you felt the girl’s gaze on you as you watched the reactions roll in with an amused smile. fellow classmates praising vi for ‘making a move’, saying how cute you two look together, even claiming to have ‘known this would happen all along’. for a moment, you let yourself forget it was all pretend.

a veiny hand placed itself on your thigh, making you flinch at the sudden contact. you looked to violet, eyes locking in the moment before ridding of the tension.

“see that? we need’a get rid of that.” she grinned.

you scoffed, flicking her hand off of you as you stood and rid yourself of the thick letterman. “nothing in the contract says you need to grope me,” you teased, hands on your hips as you turned to pick a shirt from vi’s messily folded space.

“gro- what?” she scoffed, caught off guard as she attempted to defend herself. “nobody’s gonna believe we’re a couple if you jump every time I lay a hand on you!” the girl huffed, her gaze turning every which way before leaning back on her forearms.

you only hummed as she continued to talk, turning with your back to her as you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head.

vi‘s words died in her throat, eyes widening at the line of your back. your smooth skin and pearly smile blinded her as you turned your head, picking up one of her shirts.

“what? nobody's gonna believe we're a couple if you choke up when you see my body." your cocky smile filled your face as you turned away from the girl.

"by the way, you're drooling."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“ew, you fucking drooled!” jinx’s loud laugh drowned out the room as she scolded her boyfriend, despite the roaring party atmosphere. all throughout the frat house was a crowd of students looking to get wasted, heaps of alcohol, and bad decisions waiting to happen.

“i did not!” ekko defended himself, wiping away any possible evidence from his lips. you giggled at the two and leaned into the strong arm wrapped around your waist. after a few days of casual pda across campus to keep up the act, vi was finally able to touch you without you scolding her about ‘the contract’ or making a gasp that she found adorable.

she figured an arm wrapped around your torso was appropriate after the third guy in a row came up to you and asked to dance. you figured this was a good way to warn people off so that she didn’t threaten anyone else and get jayce to ban them from the frat.

“alright, another! i wanna be moving out there tonight,” jinx exclaimed, picking up a liquor, pouring two shots, and stopping over the third glass. you had already opted out on alcohol, so the blue haired girl’s gaze trailed to her sister. “vi? you pregnant or something? haven’t touched a glass yet. i’m worried.” the girl teased, tilting her head.

“ha ha,” vi rolled her eyes playfully, her grip on you becoming present once more as she spoke. “can’t. i’m drivin’ honey home tonight.” the younger girl fake gagged, downing her shot with her boyfriend following in suit. as the couple continued their antics, vi leaned into you. the space between you thinned as you grew to feel her soft exhales on the back of your neck. “look to your left, at the end of the couch.” her words were hushed to a sneaky whisper that kissed your ears as she kept your body warm with her proximity.

you obeyed, holding back a smile as you peeked to your left. a girl, decorated in blue locs, was staring back at you with stars in her eyes. she blew you a kiss that was mentally intercepted by vi with a scoff. “more competition.” you teased, turning your head to face hers.

“y’know, if i’d known you attract this much attention-” you cut her words off, bringing your hand up to fix a pink strand of hair that’d fallen in front of her face.

“you’d have what? chosen another girl to torture with your silly ex drama?” you hummed.

the pinkett snickered, cocky smile painting her face as her grip on you tightened ever so slightly. “not a chance.”

the moment between you fell silent and soft despite the roaring music surrounding before jayce’s smiling face filled your vision. “evening lovebirds,” the man grinned, taking a shot from the jinx’s hands and downing it while she groaned with anger. vi smiled, thumb tracing patterns absentmindedly along your hip. “shouldn’t you be losing a game of beer pong right about now?” she teased her friend.

“hah, no.” the sarcastic response made you giggle, fanning your face gently with one hand as the room’s air only became stiffer at the arrival of more guests. “mel and i are hitting up the hot tub with some.. other guests.” he lifted another shot glass, this time one that powder poured for him.

getting some fresh air sounded so good right now.

vi hummed while letting her hand slide off of your waist, her touch just grazing over your lower back before sticking her fist in the pocket of her baggy jeans. without speaking, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in question.

“yes please.” you begged, already handing your phone to jinx to watch over. most likely a decision you and your phone storage will regret later, but that was a future problem. jayce let out a chuckle, flashing his pearly whites before setting his last shot glass down and waving you and vi to follow.

your hands intertwined, jayce leading you who’s hands embraced both his and vi’s. the man pulled you both through the drunken community and let go to exit through the decorated doorway. the colorful lighting dimmed and was replaced by the blue hue of the pool and light from the night stars. jayce found mel’s gaze from across the space, a grin growing on the frat member’s mouth. he hastily removed his shirt and shorts, tossing them onto a table by the poolside. “just join us when you’re ready!” he rushed out, jogging over to his lover.

vi let out a sharp “hah”, muttering something about talis being “pussy whipped”. you only smiled, turning to the side as you fixed your arms across your torso and lifted the cropped top over your head. vi’s playful mutters died in her throat, and a soft “oh” was born. that ‘stripping practice’ wasn’t much help.

she hoped and prayed you’d suggest giving it another try.

two sets of clothes fell, every fabric hitting the floor adding to the heavy pile of tension, one too complex and thick to cut with a knife. the two of you hummed, taking each other in as your gazes travelled up and down with heavy lidded eyes.

rather than a knife, jayce’s call to you from across the landscape successfully dissipated all conflicting and curious thoughts. momentarily. “yo, what are you waiting for!”

the pinkette’s lips curled into a smile, her arm finding its resting spot around your waist. you exchanged no words as your feet moved with purpose, anticipating the feeling of the steamy water that would soon encase and soothe your body for the time being.

or not.

“violet?”

it wasn’t your mouth that spewed the name. you radiate love, the way in which you called out vi’s name warmed her and provided an indescribable feeling. it was said cold, surprised, and almost with distaste.

“caitlyn.” vi’s response was equally distant, a hint of shock at the end. the newfound emotion quickly switched to anger as she turned to the man looking like a deer in headlights. “jayce..” her voice was low, a warning.

wide eyes flickered between the past lovers before swaying to his immediate left. “mel?” he called for help, the woman only laughing as she relaxed into the warm water. “you’re on your own.”

the ginger girl at caitlyn’s side looped an arm around her bicep, squeezing gently to grab her attention. “let’s go, yeah?” she tried, but the woman didn’t budge.

you scoffed, a snarky remark on it’s way to sneak past your lips when jayce interrupted. “hey- okay wait wait!” he started, gaze travelling between the girls. “i know how tense everything is right now, but i care about both of you. i hate having to choose sides or run back and forth to be with you guys. can you at least try to be civil tonight?”

the loudest silence fell upon the group, you and maddie not daring to make a face until your lover– or faux one decided.

“fine.”

the night progressed as jayce dreamed. vi sat with you on her lap, your skin plush against one of her thighs, her arms wrapped around your waist as the water threatened to take you away. she suggested it was the “easiest position to whisper in your ear discreetly”. you were on top of her before she thought of the explanation. maddie and caitlyn sat directly across the hot tub, the ginger holding onto one of the bluenette’s biceps in hopes of calming the annoyed look that covered her face. mel and jayce, ever the mediators, carried the tense conversation to the best of their abilities.

after a draining thirty minutes of passive aggressive disses, everyone nodding and pretending to understand jayce’s technological talks, and you standing your ground during an intense staring contest with maddie, you’d had enough.

“oh it was disastrous. then of course i had to miss a couple days as i was ill with a cold–” caitlyn’s story was drowned out as you spoke up with a smile sweet enough to cause a toothache.

“really?” you tilted your head. “i heard you got mono after a party,” you hummed, voice laced with fake concern. you had no clue if the claims were true, you were just tired of her talking.

the bluenette’s eyes widened only slightly, her mouth slightly agape. maddie turned her head, a brow gently furrowing in suspicious confusion. “but.. i didn’t have-”

“well that’s what happens when you’re freed from a past situation that was unskilled in such acts.” caitlyn spoke over the girl. her gaze flickered over to vi and back to jayce who was desperately praying to change the topic. you bit your tongue with a small scoff under your breath, vi’s muscular arms tensed their grip around you subconsciously before relaxing at the thought of an idea.

“you wanna crash this shit?” vi whispered, words kissing your ear with her lips just inches away. you nodded your head with desperate eyes.

she tapped on your leg below the water, making you turn your head and torso ever so slightly towards her. without warning, her lips crashed into yours, arms adjusting their position to hold your waist. “keep going,” she whispered between one of the many kisses. your hands trailed up to tangle in her hair, gently gripping as you felt the pinkette softly bite on your bottom lip. your mouth opened just enough from shock that the muscular girl could slide her tongue in, allowing it to get tangled with and slide against yours.

fuck.

you allowed all of it to happen. the way her hands slid up and down your side, the way her lips encased and warmed yours, the way her tongue explored every inch of your mouth, the way mel and jayce noticed in shock and amusement, and the way caitlyn and maddie looked as though they’d explode within the next second.

you did anything but stop, hardly listening as caitlyn scoffed, letting out an “unbelievable” as her and maddie climbed out of the hot tub and stormed off. it wasn’t until mel questioned “was this display for us or them?” that you pulled yourself from vi with a cheeky smile. you didn’t miss the way she followed after your lips.

the pinkette flashed that infamous smirk, apologizing to mel and jayce with a laugh before leaning in one last time to whisper in your ear, “good job, honey.”

your heart raced at the comment, but it didn’t stop you from pushing the girl back with an almost-serious expression on your face. “you broke the contract!” you exclaimed, pressing an accusatory finger to her chest.

it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it, like you didn’t slide your tongue along hers as she claimed your mouth.

it was the fact that every time you moved further in this fake affair, you grew more worried. the fact that all of your firsts with her would be fake tugged on your heart strings. and when the drama boils over, what would happen between the two of you? in your mind, as your tongues entangled, so did your hearts.

vi choked on her words, searching for an explanation. why did she do that again? she couldn’t help herself. not good enough. oh, right. “i told you! couples-”

“contract?”

the two of you froze, turning back to jayce and mel who eyed you suspiciously.

fuck.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“fuck,”

jinx huffed out under her breath, barely audible with the loud bundle of students in the surrounding stands. “it smudged again!” the girl whined, looking into the camera of her phone as she attempted to fix a line of eye black on her face. mel chuckled, muttering a “give me that,” as she held the girl’s face and evened out the line with a tissue.

it was nearing the end of the second intermission, with your school and the neighboring university tied. the three of you had spent two hours picking out the best bottoms to match your lovers’ jerseys that covered your body, tying the perfect blue and white ribbons in your hair, and decorating yourselves with body paint. jinx, apart from the messy lines on her cheekbones, painted little blue doodles on her legs. mel simply painted jayce’s number on her cheek. you drew two pink lines under your eyes, along with vi’s name perfectly placed on the front of your thigh.

a loud whistle blew seconds before the players skated back on the ice, fans cheering and clapping as they anticipated a win for their respective team. you only cared about finding the player with the intimidating name plastered on their back: “violence”.

the game flashed before your eyes, screaming and squealing along with the girls whenever one of your companions got the puck. 6-6. 6-7. 7-7. excitement and anticipation in the atmosphere only rose as the teams skated back and forth across the ice.

the anticipation distracted you. distracted you from your conflicting feelings, vi’s curious actions, the fact that you didn’t have to be dressed like this as caitlyn nor maddie were present, the worry of this deal coming to an end, the terrible fact that you were worried, and the terrifying idea of telling her how you really felt once the game came to an end.

7-7. 7-8. 7-9. time!

the stands erupted into cheers as ekko slammed the winning shot. powder jumped up and down while you and mel laughed at the girl’s glee before cheering along with her.

“they usually take a minute, showers and all.” mel informed you as you waited for the players to exit the locker room. the two girls found a spot on a bench while you paced back and forth. it’s fine. it’s fine. does she really need to know?

“honey?”

the sweet voice startled you, prompting you to turn, the fast-moving pink haired girl still clad in her uniform filling your view. “vi?” you smiled, only taking two steps before the girl reached you. “what’s– huh?” you choked on your words as the girl wrapped a hand around your waist, the other coming up to cup your face.

“have t’ do this before the adrenaline wears off,” she muttered with determination and a haze in her eyes. before you could respond, she leaned in, lips connecting like puzzle pieces. the kiss wasn’t rough or showy like the others, it was needy and real. she kept you in a trance, minds, bodies, and mouths connected until powder’s complaints pulled you out. “jeez, breathe!”

the girl’s annoyance caused you to giggle, allowing you to feel vi’s smile against your lips before pulling back.

her face, only inches away, sent a numbing and fuzzy feeling through your brain and body. the look in her eyes as she soaked in every detail from your puffy lips to wide and love-struck orbs had you all but melting.

oh.

©silknspice

#writing ⋆˚୨୧｡#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane imagines #league of legends #vi arcane #vi #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi fanfic #ekko arcane #jayce talis #arcane drabbles #arcane headcanon #jinx #mel medarda #caitlyn kiramman #arcane fanfic

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deadnatura11 · 3 months ago

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I think it would be funny - in a post-BT breakup, Buck still oblivious to his feelings about Eddie world - if there was an episode where Buck tries to manifest his perfect partner into existence, and every reference to this practice is immediately followed by Eddie just showing up.

For example:

"I'm waiting for the universe to send me a sign."

"A sign about what?"

"About my perfect match. If I manifest hard enough, maybe the universe will point me to where I need to go?"

"Buck, the universe doesn't just... hand out relationships or - or signs to people who want it bad enough!"

Cut to Eddie walking up the steps of the loft holding a package.

"The new signs you ordered for the loading bay just arrived Bobby."

"Perfect. Let's see what they look like."

Buck is still talking with Hen and Chimney while this is happening behind him.

"I know it won't be, like, the universe will point an arrow at someone going 'This Is the Love Of Your Life' but maybe I'll feel a certain energy in the air... or a spark?"

Eddie takes a sign from out the box.

"What do you think?"

"I think you're holding it wrong. The arrow should be pointed down, not up."

Eddie looks and sees the arrow pointing at him. "Yeah, don't need anyone thinking they can just park on my face."

Anyway the episode kinda plays like that for 44 minutes.

#9-1-1 on abc #911 abc #911 on abc #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #buddie #buck x eddie #gay eddie diaz #and at the end when buck finally reveals to eddie what he's been trying eddie reminds him about 'making love happen' instead of waiting #which is advice that is completely misunderstood bc buck thinks eddie is suggesting he throw himself fully into the dating pool #did i mention eddie is a pining mess lol

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dovesdreaming · 4 months ago

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The softening edge

Summary: Readers love language is touch and Theo usually loves it until someone (ahem Draco who else) makes fun of Theo for it. He ends up pushing you away until he realised how much of an idiot he’s been.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

Theodore Nott was used to being alone. He preferred it that way. It was simpler, quieter and free from the complications of messy emotions. But you, you had waltzed into his life with your bright smile and warm touches, wrapping him in a blanket of affection he didn’t know how to handle. At first, he had been wary, guarded, and unsure of what you wanted from him. But your persistence wore down his defenses, slowly, like the ocean smoothing out rough stones on the shore. And before he knew it, he found himself looking forward to the sound of your laughter, the light touches on his arm, and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled at him.

Today was no different. You met him in the common room, practically bouncing with energy, and immediately reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. He caught a whiff of your familiar perfume as you stood close, and something in his chest warmed, something he hadn’t felt in years. "You're always so put together, Theo” you teased, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. “But even perfection needs a little touch-up”. He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips tugged upward despite himself. “And that’s what you’re here for, I suppose?” “Obviously.” You grinned up at him, pleased with your handiwork. You reached up, gently combing your fingers through his hair to push it in the right direction that he liked and his breath hitched. It was so natural to you for you to touch him like this, but for him, it was foreign. Bewildering and addicting all at once.

Draco Malfoy watched from across the common room, a smirk playing on his lips. "Nott, you're getting soft” he sneered, his face filled with amusement. The other boys chuckled, and Theodore felt a prickle of irritation. He met Draco’s gaze, his expression hardening, but the damage was done. The words burrowed under his skin like thorns. Was he really becoming soft? Was he losing the edge that kept him safe, that kept people at a distance? He didn’t respond to Draco’s comment, but it echoed in his mind long after you’d said goodbye and headed off to your next class. The rest of the day, he was on edge, thinking about what Draco had said and how the others had laughed.

Later that evening, you found him again, this time in the library. You came up behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder as you read over his notes. “You work too hard, you know that?” you murmured, your voice soft in his ear. “You need to relax sometimes”. His entire body stiffened at your touch, Draco's words gnawing at him like a relentless parasite. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the irritation that was bubbling up inside him. You didn’t notice, still speaking in that gentle, affectionate tone that usually calmed him. But now, it felt suffocating.

“Stop” he snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He shrugged you off, causing you to stumble back a step. You blinked, hurt flashing across your face. “Theo..” He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I said stop. You’re always hovering, always- just, give me some space”. Your eyes widened, the warmth in them rapidly cooling into confusion and pain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise..” “Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t be so clingy” he bit out, his words sharp enough to wound. He regretted them the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late.

You took a step back, as if physically recoiling from his words. The light in your eyes dimmed, replaced by something hollow. “I’ll..I’ll leave you alone, then”. Your voice was barely a whisper as you turned and walked away. Theodore stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you go. The library felt colder, emptier without you in it. He wanted to call out, to take back everything he’d just said, but his pride held his tongue. Instead, he sat back down, glaring at the parchment in front of him that suddenly seemed meaningless.

The next few days were unbearable. You avoided him, no longer seeking him out between classes or sitting beside him in the common room. Your absence was like a black hole, pulling at him, making everything seem dull and lifeless. He caught glimpses of you, always at a distance, your once bright demeanor now subdued. He missed your voice, your touch, the way you made everything feel less bleak. He missed you more than he thought possible. It was during one particularly lonely evening in the common room that he realized what a fool he had been. You had only ever been kind to him, offering warmth and light in a life that had been cold and dark for so long. And he had thrown it all away because he was too afraid of what it meant to care for someone. Draco's words echoed in his mind again, but this time, they brought clarity instead of confusion. He wasn’t getting soft. He was learning to let someone in, and that was the hardest, bravest thing he had ever done.

He had to make it right. The next day, he found you sitting by the lake, staring out at the water. He approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. When you noticed him, you didn’t smile; you didn’t even look surprised. You just watched him with those sad, tired eyes that made him feel like the worst kind of villain. He sat down beside you, close but not touching. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry” he finally said, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean what I said. I… I was an idiot”.

You didn’t respond at first, and he felt panic rising in his chest. What if he had ruined everything beyond repair? But then you spoke, your voice quiet and distant. “Why did you say it, Theo? What changed?”. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “You heard what Draco said. That you were making me weak You looked at him, really looked at him, and he felt exposed under your gaze. “Do you really believe that?” Your eyebrows creased upwards, eyes laced with a mix of emotions.

“No” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it scared me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be strong, to be… untouchable. Letting someone in- it felt like losing control”. “And now?” you asked, your eyes searching his. “Now I realize that being with you.. it doesn’t make me weak. It makes me feel alive” He took a deep breath, his heart pounding. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I don’t want to push you away. I want… I want you. I need you”. His shoulders were tensed upwards trying to gage your reaction, his eyes revealing how desperate he seemed for your forgiveness.

You watched him for a long moment, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, you reached out and took his hand. “You really hurt me, Theo” you said, your voice soft but firm. “But.. I believe you’re sorry. Just don’t do it again, okay? If you need space, talk to me. Don��t shut me out”. “I won’t” he promised immediately agreeing to your terms while squeezing your hand. “I’ll do better. I swear”. You nodded, a small smile finally breaking through the sadness on your face. “Good. Because I like you, Theodore Nott, and I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily”.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him, and for the first time in days, he allowed himself to smile. You allowed yourself to finally resort back your own nature of touch and leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. Maybe Draco was right. Maybe he was getting soft. But if this was what it felt like to be soft, then Theodore Nott was more than willing to lose that battle.

Thank you for reading! Please send requests for him <3

#blog #fanfiction #fandom #x reader #x you #x y/n #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp fandom #hp #hp fanfic #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin

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javierpena-inatacvest · 10 months ago

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Whatever My Wife Wants

Summary: On your honeymoon, Javi decides to break out a new accessory you've never seen him wear before. Little does he know, that seeing him wear a chain for the first time is about to drive you wild.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also its your honeymoon so who am I to say), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, literally the biggest, fattest, ugliest breeding kink (I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not), marriage kink (?) creampie, cum play, kind of exhibitionism (like if you SQUINT), talks of starting a family, Javi LOVES his wife, Javi in a CHAIN, Javi on his honeymoon deserves its own warning, did I mention that Javi LOVES his wife?!

A/N: shoutout to my sweet @honeyedmiller for this request after reblogging this MASTERPIECE from @enstatia. It's supposed to be a painting of Din, but it gave me such big Javi vibes, and I really haven't been the same since picturing the one and only Javier Peña in a chain (bc If i can't unsee it, you shouldn't be allowed to either) 😵‍💫 Also shoutout to Lucien Flores for singlehandedly ruining my life today with that new clip from the Uninvited (but also you can't tell me that this outfit is so Javi on the beach coded PHEW)

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

Javi had never been one for jewelry- well, that was until a few days ago when a new golden wedding band had made a home on his hand. Since you had slipped it on his finger, Javi couldn’t get enough of watching it glisten in the warm, tropical sunlight on your honeymoon, a reminder that filled his heart to the brim to know that he was yours forever.

Javi’s new wedding ring was the only jewelry that he had ever pictured himself wearing, until you had mentioned to him in passing while shopping for new clothes for your honeymoon how good he’d look with a chain to go with any of his outfits he had planned for the trip- considering there was no way Javi was going to have no less than 4 buttons undone on his shirt at any given time while basking in the tropical warmth of your honeymoon paradise.

Later on that week, he had dug around in his dresser to find a thin, golden chain necklace he had back from his time in college, that hadn’t seen the light of day in too many years to count. But, given your enthusiasm for the idea of him wearing something like it, Javi had decided to pack it with him in his suitcase to surprise when the time felt right.

Well, after being a few drinks deep at the pool bar from earlier, Javi’s slightly tipsy confidence had him feeling like now was the perfect time to try out his new accessory to see what you thought. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out out the chain to go with the rest of his outfit for your dinner on the beach, clipping the necklace around his neck as he looked himself over in the mirror, quickly fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt, undoing one more button than probably necessary to show off his new look.

And while he could admit that he didn’t look half bad with it on, and figured you’d like the new surprise addition to his wardrobe, there’d be no way in hell he could have ever prepared himself for the viscerally awestruck reaction you’d have to the thin, gold chain dangling around his neck.

“I can practically feel you burning a hole through my chest, Hermosa.” Javi chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you as he took another bite of his food, giving you a playful smirk at the way you had been ogling at him ever since you had noticed the thin gold chain resting across his tanned skin as you began your walk through the hotel to head to dinner.

“Oh shut up, it’s not my fault you’re so hot. You’re making it very hard not to look, in my defense.” You sighed, trying to get yourself to focus on your food instead of staring at Javi for the rest of dinner, despite the fact that the only meal you had your eyes on was sitting across the table from you. “There’s already something about you being my husband that makes you somehow even hotter than you already were, and now with this?” You picked up your fork, gesturing to the chain dangling between the parted fabric of Javi’s shirt, “I think you may be trying to legitimately kill me.”

“Figured you’d like it. Didn’t think you’d like it this much.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip before taking another bite of food, his cheeks growing flushed and warm as he looked at you admiring him, wondering how in the hell he had gotten so goddamn lucky. “Thanks, Mrs. Peña.” He laughed, taking another bite of his food, shooting you a quick wink.

Mrs. Peña.

God, if that alone wasn’t enough to send you over the edge already, your new last name, combined with the incredibly attractive man you had gotten it from that you now got to call your husband? On top of that stupidly hot chain he had decided to throw on with his outfit? There was definitely something else you were hungry for other than the half cleared plate below you.

It was then that you couldn’t have been happier you had been seated at a table on the edge of the beachside boardwalk, tucked behind a few stray palm trees, secluded enough out of view that you had no problem reaching under the table to rest your hand on Javi’s knee, toying with the hem of his shorts before letting your fingers creep further and further up his thigh.

“Are you almost done with your food?” You asked, your voice sweet and sultry as your hand brushing against Javi’s crotch immediately caught his attention, making his eyes go wide as he sat up straight, setting down his knife and fork to look down in his lap. “Because if you are, I can think of something else I want for dessert when we go back to our room. Something I want really bad. You wanna feel how badly I want it?”

Javi swallowed hard as your fingers wrapped more firmly around his bulge, gently massaging his dick in your grasp, before grabbing his hand and guiding it to brush along the slit of your sundress and closer to your core, aching and dripping with arousal. Letting his fingers creep up the inside of your thighs and ghost over your folds, his eyes went even wider, jaw practically dropping open to feel that you were not only absolutely soaked, but also not wearing any underwear at all. Using every ounce of composure he had to keep from falling apart right then and there at the dinner table, letting out a deep sigh as he cursed under his breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck, baby… Yeah, I can be done right now.” He groaned, nodding at your proposition before wrapping his hand around the meat of your thigh as he took a long inhale, staring you down with darkening eyes and a devilish grin across the table.

Never had you been more thankful that the resort you had picked to stay at was all inclusive, because if either of you had to wait a minute longer for a server to get your bill so you could get back up to your room, the probability of impending implosion would have been practically inevitable.

Firmly intertwining your fingers with his as you grabbed his hand, you were nearly dragging Javi through the hotel to the nearest bay of elevators, pleasantly shocked to find no one else waiting with you to travel up to their room, leaving the two of you alone to catch the next elevator back up to your floor.

Without a word, the second the elevator doors had closed, the two of you were on top of each other, a messy dance of tongue and teeth crashing together, Javi’s hands palming the meat of your ass over your dress while yours roamed over his chest, tracing the freckles of his tanned skin up to the golden chain dangling in the open buttons of his shirt, stopping to wrap the necklace around your finger, tugging Javi closer to you.

“Fuck, you look so good with this on, baby.” You moaned, your words hot against Javi’s skin as you nipped at his neck, chain still tangled in your grasp. “I can’t wait to fu-”

Barely aware of the fact that you had reached your floor, the ding of the elevator was enough to catch your attention and cut you off from completing the rest of your thought before the doors slid open, revealing a group of couples waiting for their ride down to the lobby. Frantically trying to play off the fact that if the elevator ride had gone any longer, you two definitely would have been seconds away from fucking in it, you gulped, giving Javi a nudge to his ribs to bring him back to reality, the two of you quickly trying to slide past the other guests without making a scene.

As the door closed behind you, you and Javi couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that you couldn’t seem to take an elevator trip alone without almost being caught making out like a pair of horny teenagers (which, to be fair, a pair of horny teenagers probably would have had more self control than the two of you being newlyweds on your honeymoon).

With your room only being a few doors down from the elevator, Javi began fumbling in the pocket of his shorts for his room key, working around the full hard on he already had under the fabric from how pent up he was. Quietly cursing under his breath until he found it, as soon as the card was swiping over the lock of the door, Javi was yanking you through into your room, instantly beginning to pull down the zipper to the back of your dress as you fumbled your way back to the bed.

Your dress fell to the floor in a crumpled pile before Javi was tossing you onto the mattress, shocked to see that you also hadn’t even bothered to put on a bra, revealing your glowing skin and obnoxious tanlines from your time spent out in the sun.

“Dirty fucking girl, not wearing anything underneath that dress for me. Fuck me, Hermosa. God, you’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect. My perfect wife.” Javi growled, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed to part your legs, draping them over his shoulders as he admired the wet mess between your thighs, your slick already coating your folds, glistening in the dim light of your hotel room. “My perfect wife and her perfect fucking pussy already so wet for me.

Dragging his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal as he ghosted over your throbbing clit, you let out a soft whimper in protest, sitting up on your elbows to look down at Javi, peppering kisses along the soft skin of your thighs.

“Javi, fuck- Baby, I wanted to go down on you. You look so good, I-I wanna taste you, Jav, p-please.” You moaned, your argument becoming less and less convincing as his kisses traveled to your center, nose brushing against your aching bundle of nerves before looking up at you with a lustful smirk, tightening his grip around your hips to hold you in place.

Javi shook his head as he laughed quietly to himself, watching you squirm and buck your hips towards his face, so desperately worked up and aching that the mess between your legs was really beginning to contradict your need to get Javi off before yourself.

“Cariño…” Javi tutted, almost mockingly, digging his fingertips deeper into the meat of your flesh, “You’re not going anywhere ‘till I get a taste. I can’t leave my poor wife all worked up like this, can I?”

Before you had a chance to respond, the flat of Javi’s tongue was dragging through your heat in a long, broad stroke, firmly pressing against your clit, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as you threw your head back in pleasure, a soft whimper escaping from your parted lips. As the last of his lick slid through your folds, you shuttered at the feeling of the metal of his chain ghosting over your cunt as it dangled from his neck, only to cry out as you could feel the other piece of jewelry he was wearing on his left ring finger sink deep into your entrance.

“Oh f-fuck-” You whimpered as another finger breached your tight hole, already sucking him in with your warm, wet walls while his digits curled, bumping against the sweet spot inside you that he knew made you crumble.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt before diving back between your legs like a man starved, his tongue dancing in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you, even more so now with the wedding band that had made its permanent home on his finger, taking every chance he could get to watch you cover the glistening gold ring in your arousal as yet another way to prove that you were his.

Javi could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his fingers as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets of the bed, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, tingling building at the base of your spine. Latching his lips around your clit, he began to suck at your sensitive nub, his hand thrusting faster and deeper into your cunt, feeling you slowly coming undone under his touch.

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Javi, I’m so close baby, oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaaahhhhhh-” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high, feeling the smirk of Javi’s smile pressed against your cunt as you soaked his face, his free hand wrapped around your hip, holding you in place for him.

“Fuck, I swear, I’ll never fucking get over that.” Javi mewled, pulling back enough to sit on his heels, admiring the wet and puffy mess your pussy had become, gently pulling his fingers out of your heat, looking down at the way your arousal coated his fingers, covering his wedding band. “Fucking soaked me, Hermosa. You like feeling my ring when I touch you like that, baby? Knowing I’m all yours forever?”

With your chest heaving in heavy breaths, you nodded frantically, blissed out look plastered across your face as you stared up at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he brought his soaked fingers to your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip as, opening your mouth for you to suck him clean, the warm and tangy taste of you still fresh on his skin.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. Mi esposa sabes muy dulce.” (My wife tastes so sweet) Javi cooed, gently tugging his fingers out of your mouth, standing up to lean over the bed, caging your body under his as his lips crashed against yours in a needy mess of longing and desperation.

You could feel how painfully hard he was through the fabric of his shorts, his bulge straining against the seams of his zipper as he rubbed against your thigh, laying on top of you with one arm propped up beside your head, the other gently cupping your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek as he kissed you with the tender intensity that set your insides ablaze with desire, longing, no, needing to feel him buried deep inside you as you screamed his name.

It really had been your intention to suck Javi off the moment you had gotten back to your room, to drop to your knees and worship the beautifully handsome man you now got to call your husband and turn him into the same type of moaning, whimpering mess that he had just made you, but with the ferocity of each kiss and the instinctual jerk of Javi’s hips, there was nothing you wanted more than to be filled by the sweet sting of his cock pounding into you, over and over.

“J-Javi, fuck- I need to feel you baby, please. Fuck, I wanna feel you so deep inside me.” You whispered, your teeth tugging at Javi’s earlobe as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses, feeling the audible groan in his chest at your request, followed by a deep sigh as he tried to compose himself from the mess he was already becoming.

“Yeah? That’s what you want, sweet girl? Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.” He rasped, a devilish grin spread between his cheeks as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, followed by his shorts and boxers, leaving him in nothing but the gold chain still dangling around his neck as he reached down to stroke his cock, red and dripping with precum before leaning back down to line up with your entrance.

You could feel your breath hitch as his tip brushed through your folds, rubbing gently against your clit as he collected your arousal to coat his length, looking down to watch as his length sunk deep into your cunt, the both of you letting out ragged moans at the sensation.

Javi paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch as he filled you, his tip kissing your cervix while his hips met yours. The fullness made your brain go blank, completely at a loss for words as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, pulling himself out enough to sink his whole length back into your cunt, each thrust making you whimper and moan, desperate for more.

“F-fuck, give me more, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your hand wrapping around his bicep, fingertips digging into his flexing muscles.

“Yeah? You want more, Hermosa?” Javi mewled, smirking to himself at the blissed out mess you were already becoming as the pace of his hips rutting into you began to quicken.

As each thrust became faster, the gold chain draped around his neck began to bounce against his chest, his body close enough to yours to feel the cool metal brush against your face with each snap of his hips into yours, the sight of his necklace dangling over you as you stared up at the furrowed and focused look painting his face. The image alone of him wearing that chain was enough to make you feel like you were going to cum on the spot, but as you lay caged beneath the weight of his broad body, feeling nothing but his warm skin and chain rub against you, you were nearly convinced it was going to be over for you right then and there.

Without even thinking, you lifted your head up off the bed just enough to grab the chain between your teeth, tugging him closer to you, the sudden yank making his eyes go wide in surprise as the two of you came nose to nose, foreheads brushing against each other before his lips were on yours again, entangling you in an all consuming kiss without faltering in his pace.

“Fuck, you look so good.” You moaned, your lips parting just enough from his to whisper your praises into his ear. “You look so hot with this fucking chain, Jesus Christ.”

Your comment had a low, breathy laugh escaping from his chest, shaking his head to himself almost in disbelief at how enthralled you were with him.

“Me? Baby girl, you have no idea.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts to sit back on his haunches, readjusting you to bring your knees pressed to your chest, leaning back down, running his hands along your body, up your arms until he had them above your head, pinned down to the bed in his grasp. “You know how many guys I’ve seen staring at you since we’ve been here? How many dirty fucking looks I’ve had to give them? Maybe this ring on your finger isn’t enough, mi amor.”

“W-what do you, fuck- what do mean?” You whimpered, the new position opening you up in a way that had you feeling every inch of Javi as he sank his cock even deeper into your cunt, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible, your brain barely working enough to let your words escape from your mouth.

“I mean,” Javi groaned, tightening his grip to hold you in place, his eyes growing darker with desire with another deep, long thrust into your heat, “That maybe, I need to fuck a baby into, Osita. Fuck a baby into my beautiful fucking wife, and let everyone see that you’re mine with our kid growing inside you.”

Javi’s words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought alone making you whimper- You and Javi both had undeniable cases of baby fever, and now that you were finally married and had agreed that your birth control wasn’t going to be a part of your packing list, the prospect that in 9 months from now, you could have a third member to your family? That was enough to have you close to finishing right then and there.

A gulp traveling down your throat before a long exhale, trying to find the words to respond to his proposition, your voice trembling in an anxious excitement.

“F-fuck- Oh my god, yes. Fuck a baby into me, Javi. Let me, oh shit- let me make you a daddy.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth, trying his best to maintain his own composure, taking a long exhale before his gaze met yours again, a fierce kind of determination and promise pooling in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes, leaning his body on top of yours, pushing your knees closer to your chest, opening you up to an even deeper angle as his mouth crashed into yours, beginning to pick up his pace once again as his hips snapped into yours. “That’s what you want, Hermosa? Fuck, I’ll give it to you, baby. Oh shit- Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets, remember? You want a baby? Fuck- I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you I’ll fuck a baby into you right now.”

You could feel the all too familiar tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine once again, Javi’s cock pounding perfectly into your g-spot over and over again, the hairs at the base of his length grinding against your throbbing clit, sending you to the brink of collapse with each thrust in and out of your cunt.

“Yes, oh my god- yes, I w-want it so bad. P-please, baby, fuck.” You whined, starting to stumble over your words as you could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his cock, the coil in your core tightening to the point of nearly snapping.

“Fuck- say it again. Tell me- mierda- tell me how badly you want it.” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming slopier and more desperate as he could feel himself on the verge of chasing his own high, knowing all too well you were almost hitting yours.

“I want you to fill me up, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- I want it so bad. I want you to knock me up and give me a baby, please, baby, oh my god- please.” You were all but panting at this point, your legs starting to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, the overwhelming sensation of his fullness, promise of pregnancy, and that damn chain dangling in your face was enough to finally send you over the edge. “Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I’m so close baby, I’m gonna, oh shit- I’m gonna cu-ahhhhhhh.”

Those were the last words you were able to muster before you were screaming out Javi’s name as you came, euphoria and ecstasy radiating through every inch of your body, your orgasm crashing through you with so much intensity you could have sworn you were seeing stars.

Watching you fall apart beneath him, soaking his cock in your arousal as you came had Javi only moments behind you, the rhythm of his hips beginning to stutter, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each others combined with your wanton moans and whimpers and curses under your breath making him begin to babble incoherently.

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. Fucking soak my cock, baby. Cum all over me before I, fuck me- fuck myself so deep in you it’ll fucking take. Holy fuck- Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Gonna fucking fill you up. Give you all of me. Fuck, I’ll give you everyting, baby, mierda- everything you’ll ever wa-ahhhhhh”

With one last final thrust, Javi was spilling deep inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls, milking himself of every single last drop before collapsing on top of you, the warmth and weight and of his body sinking on top of your chest as the two you sighed in sync, trying to catch your breath with long, labored huffs.

As Javi felt himself begin to soften, a groan rumbled low in his chest while he pulled out, feeling the mix of your spend dripping out your hole, coating the inside of your thighs in glistening juices. You let out an involuntary whimper at the loss of fullness inside you, your head falling back on the mattress in blissed out satisfaction, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to reality after floating away in post-colotial bliss.

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, lifting your head back up to see Javi sitting back on his heels, admiring the mess of the two of you pooling between your legs.

“So fucking pretty, Hermosa.” He mewled, peppering kisses down the soft skin of your thighs, making his way back towards your core. Before you could even realize what was happening, Javi’s head was back between your legs, one broad stroke of his tongue collecting the tangy, salty mixture leaking out of your cunt and lapping it back into your entrance quickly replacing his mouth with his fingers to push the mixture of your spend even further into you.

Looking up at you, slick covering his mustache and smug grin spread between his cheeks, Javi curled his fingers just enough to make you yelp as he pressed against your g-spot, considering how worked up and overstimulated you already were.

“Gotta make sure I keep you full of me, baby. Can’t let anything go to waste.” Javi smirked, gently pulling out his fingers, resting his hands on your thighs, drawing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs.

You tried to sit back up, propping yourself on your elbows before Javi’s body was caging over you once again, slowly lowering himself down until your back was flat against the bed, cradling your jaw as guided you down with soft, slow kisses, feeling his chain brush against your chin he pulled away from your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere, Momma. My wife wants a baby? Then I’m doing everything I can to give her one. Whatever she wants.” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead as his hand caressed your face, brushing your skin just gently enough to tickle you, a little giggle escaping from your lips as your eyes met his sweet puppy dog ones.

“You’re ridiculous, you menace.” You laughed, playfully nudging Javi as he rolled over next to you on the side of the bed, wrapping his arm around you, tugging you to lay against his bare chest, your hand draping over his stomach before crawling up his chest, wrapping his gold chain around your fingers. “Hmmmm whatever your wife wants, huh?” You smirked, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Whatever she wants, Hermosa.”

“Your wife wants you to never take this damn thing off again.”

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

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thinkinonsense · 3 months ago

Text

Bewitched

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

cw: 1800s mentality on marriage and women, pinning, bickering, enemies to lovers

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: as of right now, i'm not sure how long this series will be but i'm so excited for it! i tried to make the reader as universal as possible but i did have to give her some sort of last name, so if that isn't your thing, you can always change it to fit. after the set up, i'll probably drop the last name.

bridgerton lore: ton (high society), debuting (when you begin dating/looking for a partner), spinster (an unmarried woman)

main masterlist

in early june, everyone returned back to england for this season and whispers of a french woman joining the ton spread around. one morning at breakfast, marie howlett was reading one of the gossip columns aloud to her family when her eldest brother, james walked into join them at the table.

"it says she's staying with her aunt, lady worthington. she is four and twenty and the only child. her passions are literature and painting. apparently, the queen has one of her paintings in her home..."

"she sounds lovely. doesn't she, james?" their mother said, hoping her boy was listening.

"she's a spinster." he says, eating some of the fruit on the table. "that's not viscountess material."

"the queen seems to find her to be diamond material." marie jabs.

james has never fallen for one of the diamonds. sure, their beauty is prominent and sometimes they can hold an intellectual conversation but for the most part they are simply shoved forward so the queen can take credit for their marriage.

"i have more important priorities this season."

"well, this season you should prioritize finding a viscountess." their mother bit at him.

during this time every year his mother gives james the same speech over and over again. the marriage speech. ever since his father died during battle, james has been plagued with not only his grief but also the weight of replacing his father and eventually having to find a replacement for his mother as well. instead of focusing on marriage, james kept himself busy either working or traveling and keeping his family afloat.

"mama, i promise i will find a wife at some point." james sighs. "i just haven't met anyone that can handle being my viscountess."

"what about the red headed girl from last season? you seemed to fancy her quite a bit."

"she married lord summers this past spring."

"and the munroe girl?"

"she's interested in mister brooks."

all his mother does is sigh in response to the news. he takes this as the perfect chance to escape the interrogation.

luckily for james, there was always an excuse to avoid marriage. in the past he's gotten close to making that walk down the aisle but something always held him back. he's never believed much in love or marriage past it's convenience. sure, he believed it was the blueprint of life, to take a wife and start a family but his marriage is seen as a much bigger deal.

all the mamas in the ton were practically throwing their daughters in his direction. at balls, he's always forcing marie to dance with him because if not, he will be forced to socialize with these young unintellectual girls who only value him for his money and title. james didn't want to have to nurture these girls. he would take care of his wife but he wanted someone who was independent from him.

ever since his father died in the war, james has always been guarded of his feelings. especially, when it came to love. when he went with his mother to identify his father's body, james swore on that day that he would never let love destroy him like it did his mother.

"remember, marie is debuting tonight at the first ball of the season." his mother called after him. "don't be late."

"i wouldn't miss it." he smiles at his little sister before dashing out the door and back to his study.

˖⋆࿐໋

a rainbow of silks are spread across your bed as you try to figure out what to wear tonight. if your mother was here, she would know exactly what would look best on you. it's only been three months since her passing yet the ache in your chest grows stronger day by day.

"what are you thinking of wearing tonight?" your aunt asks, lingering in the doorway.

"i'm not sure yet." you sigh, picking at the pretty gowns. "i like the light blue one."

arguably, it was the prettiest in the pile. so simple, you hoped to blend in among the wash of colors in the room tonight. the boning of the corset poked the left side of your ribs a little but beauty is pain.

as you got ready, the nerves started to kick in. by now you should be on your second or third child and pregnant with the next. why was love taking so long to find you?

ever since you were a little girl, you were a hopeless romantic. dreaming of your first kiss and getting married to your knight in shining armor. back home, there was a cruel joke that you were the girl before the wife. you get just close enough before they end it. afraid that the curse would travel with you.

"don't worry." you aunt hums, brushing your hair. "the queen picked you as her diamond for a reason."

"i know, i know." you nod, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. "i just wish mother was here with me."

"i do too, dear."

"she should've seen me married."

a small tear rolls down your pink painted cheeks. it feels like you let her down by not taking a husband before her illness got worse.

men have it so easy. there's no pressure from society put on them. you can marry at fifty to a nineteen year old if you so please because you know that they will marry you out of fear and desperation.

"who says she can't?" your aunts smile reflected in the mirror. "she's still looking down on you, probably working on sending you a lord or a duke for a husband as we speak."

"amusing." you giggle.

"imagine a viscount or a prince!"

both of you laugh at the possibility. viscounts and princes were usually swept up quickly in high society. all of them probably have pregnant wives by now.

"don't get too ahead of yourself."

˖⋆࿐໋

the queens ball was unlike anything you had ever seen. beautiful gardens, bright lights, and people gathered everywhere. inside the ballroom, the chandelier lights almost blind you.

like a hawk, lady chamberlain spots you two. she is an older lady and a close family friend. you haven't seen her since you were a little girl, surprised that she was able to recognize you.

"lady worthington and miss bowery, lovely to see you here!" the woman smiled, wrapping her arms around both of you.

"hello, lady chamberlain." you smile, feeling slightly at ease seeing a familiar face here.

"you look marvelous, sweetie." she smiles, taking in your appearance. at least someone appreciated all the bells and whistles that went into your dress for this evening. "truly like a diamond."

"thank you." you curtsy. a warm rose color rises to the surface of your cheeks at her compliment.

"let's go find that viscount i've told your aunt about." she says.

suddenly, she's pulling you and your aunt over to meet everyone.

quite some time has passed and yet you've only met barton's and a few lords. from one eligible bachelor to the next, it was the same process. you introduce yourself, dance, ask a bit about each other, jump into talks of marriage and children. it was all a bit overwhelming to say the least.

there's no news on a prince yet but lady chamberlain was holding out for a viscount while your aunt held out for a duke. meanwhile, you just needed someone with charm and charisma to save you from these godawful men of the ton.

"i'm going to get a drink." you announce, one the music ends.

in one of the dim corners of the room there was a refreshment table where you poured a hefty amount of wine into your glass and down as much of it –in a very unlady like manner– as you could before another person could find you.

it wasn't long until someone behind you clears their voice loudly.

"i was unaware that they taught women to drink like soldiers in france..."

you spin around quickly to face the man in front of you. he is gorgeous and... huge. dawned in white puffy shirt and a tight black vest with detailed buttons. he towered over you intimidatingly with a small smirk creeping on his lips from shocked expression.

"i-i deeply apologize, my lord. it was just grape juice." you laugh nervously, avoiding his piercing stare.

"hm..." he hums, lifting his hand up and letting his thumb swiftly glide under your lip to catch the bit of liquid there. you watch in awe as he licks the bit of wine off his thumb with a soft groan. "they must make 'grape juice' different in france."

never in your whole life have you been left so speechless. a gentleman has never done more so than touch your hand, let alone act so scandalous. with a satisfied smirk, the man walks away to join a small group of young women. thank goodness that no one seemed to have noticed.

"miss bowery!" lady chamberlain called after you. "i want you to come meet the howletts."

swiftly, you get back to her as she approach a mother and daughter. both of them were stunningly and wore expensive looking gowns with luxurious jewels. lady chamberlains wide smile only made you grow more anxious.

"meet lady howlett and her daughter, the honorable, marie howlett." lady chamberlain introduced.

"lovely to meet you." you say, bowing gracefully before them.

"where is viscount james?" lady chamberlain asks.

"oh! he should be around here somewhere..." the woman looked behind the two of you until she flagged someone down. “there he is!”

the moment that you looked up at the viscount, you feared your heart might explode right then and there. silently pray to the gods above that he won't mention your previous encounter.

"miss bowery, this is my son, viscount james logan howlett." lady howlett announces proudly.

"what a pleasure to meet you, miss bowery." james smirked, trying to get a rise out of you.

"as is it for me, my lord." you curtsy politely, feeling hot under his gaze.

a cloud of lust fogs james mind at the words, my lord fell from your pretty, slightly berry colored lips. the lower his eyes drift from your face, the tighter his trousers get. every exquisite curve is highlighted by the way that the silk fell on your frame, reminding him of the goddesses he had only seen in the finest of paintings.

"might you wish to accompany me to a dance?" he asks, extending his hand to you.

you nod, offering him your gloved hand in return.

the two of you make your way to the dance floor with everyone else. the orchestra begins and you quickly fall in sync with each other.

"how are you enjoying england?" james asks.

"it's quite lovely." you lie.

"better than france?" he questioned with a small tilt of his head.

"no." you giggle softly. "nowhere on earth is better than home."

"i suppose i cannot argue with that."

"have you journed to france?"

"once. when i was younger, i went with my father. he loved france."

"that's why my mother left england. she fell in love with my father when she visited france."

"they must be true romantics."

"oh, most definitely." you smile.

carefully, logan spins you twice. never letting you stumble over your own two feet like most men would.

"i truly am sorry for earlier, my lord. that was completely unacceptable for a–"

"it's alright, sweetheart." the viscount cut you off with a chuckle. "your secret is safe with me."

james looks down to see your big round eyes sparkle up at him with great appreciation. there's a unique feeling blooming deep in his chest that he can't quite put his finger on.

"i heard from some mamas that you are seeking to wed this season." you say, looking elsewhere as the two of you pull apart.

"seeking is such a complex word." he sighs amusingly.

"i imagine it would be difficult to find a future viscountess."

"you have no idea."

all around you, you can see the women openly fawning over the viscount. some fan themselves while other clutch their jewels with either anger at you or lust for him. any of those women would duel to be in your shoes right now.

"do you have a desire to be viscountess?" his question made your heartbeat increase, pounding in your chest.

as a young girl, you watched your family struggle in order to survive so it would be a lie to say that you don't dream of having a title. you have a father back in france to take care of in his elderly age. but love was your main desire. you would marry a sweet common man as long as he loved you.

"i desire to be loved." you tell him.

the answer caught james off guard. the women of the ton had no issue telling him to his face that they want his tittle or money. none of those women actually cared about love.

"well, my darling, you are quite the fool to be seeking out something as pure as love in a place such as this." james says, pulling you so close that you can feel his heartbeat in his chest and his eyes darken.

"don't be so cock-sure, viscount howlett. i am no fool at all." you glare angrily up at him. "i wish you well on your journey to find such a bird-witted viscountess."

the song ends and you are quick to make an exit. hot on your heels, james follows you outside. perhaps you shouldn't have insulted the viscount to his face but you didn't quite care anymore. this night has been a bust and you aren't any closer to marriage then you were before walking in here.

"miss, bowery..." a man calls, capturing your attention. "would you accompany me to a dance?"

based on the man's appearance, he seems even more important that the viscount. he was definitely the opposite of james. this man wore light grey in places where james wore black. this man had a sweet smile where james had a scowl.

"her dance card is full." the voice behind you threatened.

the gentleman's face fell a little.

"actually, i have one last spot open on my dance card." you smile, showing him the tag tied to your right wrist which had exactly one spot open. "i would love to accompany you..."

"prince harrison." he grins.

you hum, offering your hand. the prince leans down and kissed your gloved fingers before sweeping you off to the dance floor again.

james fumed as he watched you walk away with the prince. lady howlett spots her son alone and walks over to him.

“please tell me that you did not scare off this seasons diamond, james.” lady howlett asked in a low whisper.

“i’m gonna call a carriage” he growls, annoyed.

“dear!”

his mother called after him but he couldn’t care to turn around and stay here any longer.

˖⋆࿐໋

on the carriage ride alone, james is stuck with the image of you. your beauty and the pain in your eyes when james called you a fool. oddly enough, james enjoyed the way you bit back at him. he just wishes that he hadn’t offended you.

apparently you must not be that hurt if you accepted a dance from harrison of all people. not because he wanted to court you but because harrison was barely considered a prince and was a poor excuse of a man. never having to lift a finger a day in his life. never knowing a single struggle. the prince was insufferable.

perhaps it was in james best interest to forget about the beautiful woman he met this evening. she is this seasons diamond after all, desired by too many. james wasn't known to chase the things he desired.

──★

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itsswritten · 2 months ago

Text

Cauldron-born | Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word count: 4.1K

Summary: When an unexplainable energy pulls the Inner Circle to barge into the Day court, they're all shocked at what they find. But it's Azriel who can't help wonder if his dreams have finally been answered.

Part 1

A cackle pierced through you as Cressida looked upon you with a devilish glint.

“You believe you are a witch?” Her tone caught you off guard. Her patronisation questioning everything you had ever held to be true. Surely you were? It was the only thing that made some sense. Your brows furrowed tightly as you regarded the woman who had offered you shelter and refuge over the past few years.

Her laughing died down, her beautiful skin perfect by the ruins and spells she’d used for centuries, not displaying a single crease visible upon her flesh.

“Oh child what an easy life this would have been if we were more akin.”

You sat upright with a jolt, the murmuring of a dream— a memory whispering at the corners of your mind. Your heart swelling with the familiarity of someone you missed, despite her disposition, her cruel tone, that mean glint in her eye— you missed her. But as you felt the plush sheets beneath your body you knew you were no longer in the witches cottage at the corners of The Middle.

You had left that plagued land a while ago now.

A soft rap roused you from your thinking. The usual wake up call must have been the noise to stir you from your slumber in the first place, a familiar rumble of a tone behind the oak doors.

“Come in,” you replied softly. Your feet swinging off the side of the bed, as you walked towards the large curtain that hung from the high ceilings to the dark obsidian floor beneath your feet.

It should have been cool to the touch under your toes, but the house had a magical way of ensuring your comfort— always.

You heard the bedroom door swing open, your back to the welcomed guest as your fingers dropped from the luxe curtain fabric you had just pulled, inviting the warmth of the morning sun into your rooms.

“Blessed be my morning star, did you sleep well?” A deep sing-song tone bellowed into the room, a playfulness dancing on his words.

You cringed under the greeting, choosing not to turn to show your disdain at his choice of greeting and nickname. The sun was only just rising, sending splintered beams of light across your bedroom floor and walls.

“Helion, must you greet me in such a way?” He could practically hear the way you rolled your eyes and cringed at his words. You hadn’t turned to him yet, your gaze settling on the tops of the city below that the curtains had just revealed.

The view from your bedroom had changed more frequently in recent years. No longer the welcomed view of your childhood— the farm fields you grew up in, the misty fog that covered the northern part of the continent that you had always found comfort in.

No longer the harsh winding forest, dark trees that looked more like creatures that lurked outside the witches cottage— Cressida’s home— if you could even call it a home. Her den, rooted in The Middle.

No longer the glistening golden rooftops of Day, the sparkling white walls that danced the sunlight off the buildings in a way that made the whole court shimmer.

Instead, the panes of glass showed three mountainous peaks, dusted with snow in the distance and a city below— Velaris, the city of starlight.

Or the city of slumber. You were not well acquainted with the routines of the Night court residents. Them usually rousing from sleep well later into the day. However it did make your mornings quieter.

The auras of people settled in sleep, their noise, their colours dimming as you watched the kaleidoscope of energy dance lazily along to rooftops. It would be beautiful, if it wasn’t so loud.

You winced slightly at the sight, the lights and colours nudging on your mind. Poking and prodding a little harder than they had yesterday. It had been several days since Helion’s spell. A string of wryds to help contain your ability— dim it down, to subdue it, make it more bearable— but the spell was wearing thin.

Ever since that night—that fateful night where you almost left this world— your ability had been at a loss. Something that had always been as easy as breathing, as easy as a crisp night breeze filling your lungs, was now overwhelming and terrifying. If it wasn’t for Helion and his spell cleaving you're not even sure you’d still be here, in fact you’re certain it would have consumed you.

As beautiful as the auras of the world were, if you couldn’t control it— it would be the death of you.

“How are you feeling?” You had finally turned to Helion now, his question lingering in the air.

How were you feeling?

You could see, feel, taste Helion’s energy in front of you. A golden glow, so fitting for the High Lord of Day. It beamed within him like an orb of sunlight. You couldn’t touch it though, not like you used to, not like when you were a child and you used the naively play with creatures auras like a toy. Not like how Cressida had taught you to toy with people’s auras which was far from play.

That sense of control had broken, leaving jagged scars across your body to match.

Your hands, almost subconsciously went to touch the rugged scar that ran from your shoulder down to your torso. It tingled under your thoughts, but you pulled your hand back. Not allowing another moment to be wasted on what had happened and the marks it had left on you.

That was why you needed Helion and his spells. He had a way of dimming it with his own power, making it easier for you to navigate your day-to-day without being utterly consumed by the noise and colours of everyone else.

“I feel okay actually,” you had responded, your eyes moving up to the lines on your friends face. He smiled softly at you.

“This is the longest you’ve been without us having to spell cleave, but today—“

“Today could be a noisy day,” you finished his sentence, understanding what he was implying.

Tody, you were to begin training with the Valkyries.

“Those priestesses are already a bundle of emotions when they pass you, I think resealing the spell would be wise. Amren agrees.”

Well then, it wasn’t really up for debate.

You cocked a brow at Helion before moving towards the table in your room. That was now adorned with breakfast, courtesy of the house of course. Helion folded his arms across his broad chest. He still wore the colours of Day, white and pristine, glittered in gold jewellery along his wrists, earrings bejewelled with sunlight themselves. Grand and beautiful, just like him. However he looked so out of place against the dark background of the Night interior. As ornate as the House of Wind was, Helion didn’t fit.

No, he belonged among his own court, but the High Lord of day had left his court to accompany you. That in itself was such a large display of loyalty. You swallowed your guilt as you sat at the table, spreading butter across the warm toast and taking a bite.

“But of course the decision is always yours to make y/n,” Helion spoke, his tone as warm as the butter melting upon your breakfast.

They only wanted what was best for you, you knew that. Reminded yourself in moments like these. But you couldn’t help the feelings that slipped up to the surface. Since you’d come to the Fae courts and discovered who you were—what you were. Every piece of guidance came with a weight you felt like you couldn’t refuse.

You were the Mother’s daughter— Blessed be— you had status, respect, power— to do as you please, but that came with a responsibility that felt too heavy to bear. Every decision you made had to be considered, because it didn’t only affect you but the entire world and the peoples and creatures within it.

That meant, even if you wanted to try and push another day without the spell. See how far you could go as the spell thinned, you couldn’t risk it. As it wasn’t only you who it would endanger, but every living thing.

When Helion had found you— a shattered version of yourself— he’d spent the time piecing you back together. Perhaps out of duty to begin with, but somewhere along that journey a genuine friendship grew. However that would never negate from who you were, and what you were born to do— what your life’s duty was to be, and what he, what Amren, whatever everyone else on this island needed to do ensure you accomplished it.

“Let’s reseal the spell,” you muttered before taking another chomp of your toast, a softer look on your eyes this time. “…after breakfast.”

Helion smiled warmly, joining you at the table as he had done now every morning since he saved you.

The simmering of the fresh spell lingered on your skin, Helion’s magic coursing an invisible shield around you. The spell acting as a filter to the aura you were always so sensitive to.

The early days of his spells were always the nicest, at least they were nowadays. After building your tolerance back up with Helion, the first week of his spell usually lasted with minimal discomfort. He always had to be near though, his rooms were only down the hall to yours.

Sometimes your tolerance was less, or someone or some creature’s aura louder than usual that you needed him to reseal. It was why for the past year he’d essentially been attached to you at the hip, like a doting father or brother. And then there was Amren— doting wasn’t the word you would use. But she was always there too now. Out of duty of course, the way she’d collapsed down to her knees in your first encounter revealed how strongly her loyalty would lie to you.

Or lie to what you stood for.

Amren, the ancient one knew what your existence meant. Felt it in her bones, remembered the murmurings of stories and prophecies she listened to back in her own adolescent years. She knew what was coming, and knew how important it was that the Mother’s daughter had her ability under control.

So here you were, stood before Helion and Amren like a girl on her first day of school. Helion tightened one of the straps on the leathers you had been told to wear. He couldn’t attend the training class, only approved males were sanctioned so he would stay the floor below. In a waiting room. A handful of books already tucked under his arm.

“Stop fussing over the girl,” Amren snapped, her expression as hard as it always was. Despite her being utterly devoted to you and your protection, that dedication did not come with a slither of a smile.

You may have found her scary, if she didn’t remind you so much of someone you missed.

Helion gave you a knowing look before playfully winking at you. His large hands coming to squeeze your shoulders.

“How do you feel?” He asked, ignoring Amren at his side.

“The world is quiet once more,” you replied in a slightly chipper tone that garnered a smile from Helion.

He tapped the top of your head, “If we need to reseal, or something triggers it you leave right away, okay?”

You nodded in response along with a hum in agreement. This training was supposed to do the opposite of just that, however there were concerns. After the inner circle had barged their way into the Day Court a month ago, after Helion revealed who you were— a lot had changed.

Your belongings— which wasn’t very many— were packed up, along with you and Helion as you were practically shipped to the Night Court. You realised when you arrived how this had always been Helion’s intention. Why he’d taken the time to tell you the names of the Night Courts inner circle all those months ago. It was because they held significance in your journey.

The Night Court was safer, Velaris having an ancient spell that had protected it for so long. Amren was to teach you, she had knowledge that even Helion’s libraries didn’t share. There was Rhys too, with his mind and magic who was a crucial part to play in you regaining control of your power.

And now there were the Valkyries, who you were to train with.

You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes dancing upon the still sleeping city. It was quieter now, thanks to Helion. No noise and colours probing into your mind.

It was peaceful, and yet so lonely. When you had full control of your ability, back when it felt like an extension of you. You could slip in and out of it with ease, danced with it, sung with it. Now, it felt like a headache that could only be dulled with Helion’s magic.

“It is the mind-stilling which is a priority in your training. I believe it could be key to you regaining control over your abilities. You will train with the Valkyrie’s everyday until you master it.” Amren spoke. You didn’t turn to look at her, your eyes still gazing onto the cityscape below. Your mind wandering to what the people below were up to, what they may have been dreaming of. Thinking back to a time when your life was much simpler, when the most daunting part of your week was whether one of the village boys would fancy you.

You stopped yourself there. Stopped yourself from indulging and reminiscing in the past. The continent was so far away now, as was that version of you.

“What if it doesn’t work?” You turned to Amren, concern evident in your tone. The sun kissing your face as your brows furrowed.

She was sat in the shade, back against the cool stone wall of the house, “It has to.”

A silence settled between you both. Amren was right, this had to work because Mother be damned if it didn’t.

Nesta cringed as she watched the priestesses fuss. She had told them to be on their best behaviour, but in the presence of a living deity the females couldn’t help themselves.

They blushed and whispered, giggled and muttered words of prayer, some even curtseying as soon as they stepped onto the rooftop. Rollings of ‘Blessed be’ harmonised from their tongues and even Gwyn’s eyes widened in the presence of you. The female looked ready to burst with excitement.

There was something about your presence that was otherworldly, not just in your beauty but in the way you moved among the earth spoke of grace. Nesta couldn’t believe her eyes when she had found out you’d grown up on the continent on a farm and then The Middle— with a witch! And yet there was a regality that existed within you that couldn’t be taught, it had just always been, you had been born with it, cauldron-born to be exact.

You stood in front of them all, your own embarrassment from the fuss evident in your averting gaze. Gently— with delicate grace— you bowed your head towards the priestesses, responding appropriately with a whispering “Blessed be,” which only seemed to elicit more noise from the females. Enough noise that it took you a beat to notice the gust of wind that blew across your face as a shadow blocked out the sun for a moment. With a thud two large Illyrian males landed in the middle of the rooftop balcony.

Helion’s spell had been working fine till now, not a whisper or a simmering of aura— till you saw him.

Felt him, scented him.

In a flurry of steps you found your back pressed against the railing on the rooftop. The very presence of someone causing your feet to stumble back, hands clutching the railing tightly in a blur of a moment. He was here. The very male you often found yourself dreaming of when your mind wasn’t caught in the past.

Azriel.

Amren had launched from her place, she had been watching you so closely that even just a tremor of difference she would notice. But it wasn’t just Amren who had stepped towards you, the Shadowsinger himself had taken several large strides since landing as if he’d also always been watching.

“Do I need to get Helion?” Amren asked with an urgency in her tone.

Your breaths were shallow, your gaze falling to your feet as you tried to focus. You had been caught off guard, in the silence of spell you hadn’t expected any noise at all. You hadn’t been affected by the lively group of priestesses, Nesta’s silver aura hadn’t been licking at your mind or even the thousands of people in the city below hadn’t affected you.

But him. He had triggered something, somehow.

Azriel looked upon you with a concern that felt heavy. Hesitant as he stood only a step behind Amren.

Had he startled you? When him and Cassian had landed? Azriel couldn’t deny he had rushed to this training session, after spending the month on a mission. Rhys had sent word that you were to begin training, and the swell in Azriel’s chest was enough to have Cassian trying to keep up to the Spymaster on their entire flight home.

Azriel’s eyes wandered over you, his shadows whispering their own concerns. They had noticed your nerves, just as he had noticed them during his first encounter with you. It was his job to notice the little things, his duty as spymaster to notice the things others couldn’t, but even he couldn’t explain why he felt so attuned to you.

The morning breeze gently blew across your face, pulling the pieces of hair that were loose from your braid. You had calmed yourself, calmed yourself enough to raise your head to the audience on the rooftop. He could see you now, fully, for the first time in a month, and Azriel forgot how to breathe.

Divine.

He thought it was his shadows that whispered it, but maybe it was his own thoughts too. You were the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on— angelic and saintly.

Divine was the only word for it.

Divine, divine, divine. His shadows sang.

“No, I am fine,” you finally replied to Amren. She looked at you sceptically, a look in her face that told you if you were lying then there would be hell to pay. You repeated yourself though, stepping away from the railing you had pressed yourself against.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet. Not after what he had just triggered, that tightness in your chest was new and overwhelming to say the least. It was different though, to the way auras usually felt that left you with confusion and questions to why the Shadowsinger felt, smelt, tasted so different to everyone else.

You were grateful for the male beside him who decided to speak. “Sorry we probably startled you, just dropping from the sky like that— we tend to do that sometimes.” It was Cassian who had spoken, a warmness in his tone that reminded you of Helion. There was a twinkle in his eye of light-heartedness that seemed to dissipate the unease that had settled among the group.

You offered him a soft smile that only seemed to spur him on. His tone bellowing as he outstretched his arms in introduction, “I’m Cassian, and this is—“

“Azriel,” you finished his sentence for him. Not being able to stop yourself from saying his name out loud. Not being able to stop yourself from finally looking at him.

“Right, Azriel. You’ve already met,” Cassian replied, a look in his eye as he glanced between his brother and you.

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair how much lovelier he was than in your dreams— which you didn’t think could be possible. The handsome lines of his tanned face, the dark hair that fell in loose curls and those large wings that were tucked behind his back. Your eyes dragged across him, finally landing on his own gaze. How it brought you back to that first moment you met him—how he had trapped you in his gaze back in the courtyard of Day.

“And I’m Gwyn,” the words had practically burst from the red-headed female. Her deciding now was clearly the right time to introduce herself, not that you minded. In fact if she hadn’t you may have just stared at the Shadowsinger all day, “…and I think I can speak on behalf of us all, but it is truly an honour that you wish to train with us.”

There were some murmurings from the priestesses then, as if in agreement and even Cassian tipped his head in bow towards you.

There it was again, that weight you held. Crushing and terrifying, they put you an a pedestal, showered you with adoration you weren’t too sure you deserved. With subtle strain you forced a gentle smile onto your lips.

“The honour is all mine Gwyn,” and you meant it. The people on this balcony had earned that praise more than you ever had.

“She just said my name,” Gwyn whispered in disbelief to her friends, her cheeks going rosy at the recognition. Nesta simply rolled their eyes, Emery teasingly nudged Gwyn with her elbow.

But it was a sentiment Azriel was still stuck on too. You had said his name, knew his name— knew him. His name on your lips was like a song, a melody you serenaded him with. His shadows had felt it too, your recognition of their master causing a stir that had them wanting to reach out—which they would have if Azriel didn’t have them on such a tight leash. Azriel only tore his gaze from you when Amren spoke up.

“Enough about honour and names,” Amren snapped, her eyes not landing on you but the the two males who had just arrived. They understand her stare, her tone, the waft of her had as she strode back to her spot in the shade.

“Right let’s start ladies, find a space and we’ll begin with stretches,” Cassian commanded, his tone authoritative that had the females moving into motion. Even Azriel snapped himself from his thoughts, collecting himself as he stalked towards one side of the balcony.

You followed suit, following the motion of the other females and finding yourself in amongst the group to begin. You noticed though how Nesta had come to your left, Emery flanking your right, and Gwyn directly behind you. As if creating their own shield. Perhaps a statement to the swooning priestesses— regardless, you were appreciative.

Stretching began, and you copied Cassian’s movements in front of you. In sync with the other females around you. Moving your muscles in a way you hadn’t for a while, stretching the aches you didn’t know were there. Cassian stood in front of the group, bellowing whenever the stretch would change.

The movement was welcome though. You’d always had an active life. Growing up on a farm, tending to the crops and harvests had been your way. You weren’t new to the ache of a hard days work. Then you’d spent your time in The Middle, with Cressida who had an unrelenting method of training you.

“I’ve heard you’re not a novice?” Nesta asked you as the group was split in two. One side had been pulled to practice mind-stilling, the other, your group, had been given wooden staffs to practice more physical exercises.

You took the staff in your hand, curling your fingers around the rod. Nesta wasn’t referencing your past though. She was asking about your time in Day, you hummed in response with a nod. “I trained with Helion’s sentries for a few months,” it helped…for a while. Your progress had soon dropped off though, plateaued, which was why you were here. To see if the Valkyrie way of training would help in any way.

Nesta nodded in response, before tapping your staff twice with hers. “Show me then,” she moved into a defensive stance and your brow quirked.

It was a challenge, she had been the only one who had dared, the only person to treat you with some semblance or normalcy— and it made you smile.

a/n: well here is part 2, I’m sorry this has quite literally taken months to get this instalment live, so I really appreciate any of you who might still be around to read this! I do think this has the potential to be a slightly bigger series than I first anticipated, but I guess that’s my fault for giving our mc the coolest back story ever 😅 anyway enjoy my loves 🤍 - Lottie xx

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witchywithwhiskey · 4 months ago

Text

an afternoon of pumpkin picking

pairing: sugar daddy!ransom drysdale x sugar baby!female reader

summary: you've convinced your sugar daddy to take you pumpkin picking—despite his reservations about spending any amount of time on a farm—and the perfectly autumnal date takes a turn when deeper feelings come to light.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, masturbation (f), guided masturbation, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, filming/recording/taking sexual photos, oral sex (m receiving), light bdsm, free use, pussy spanking, panty sniffing, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (nixie, baby), love confessions (a bit of idiots in love), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff

word count: 11.6k

a/n: this fic is inspired by this exchange about various babes as sugar daddies taking their sugar babies on fall dates. i loved the idea of ransom being a little grumpy about going pumpkin picking, and then it morphed into this because i decided i wanted to explore their deeper emotional connection so uh it ended up being a lot longer than i expected. but it's also very cozy and smutty and fluffy and perfect for this time of year!!! anyway, i had fun writing this, so i hope y'all enjoy reading it!!

Can’t believe you talked me into this.

The text from your sugar daddy, Ransom Drysdale, arrived on a brisk September morning as you were getting ready for the perfectly autumnal date you’d convinced him to plan. As you read the message, you could practically hear the affectionate exasperation in his tone, which made you smile to yourself.

It had taken quite a bit of your powers of persuasion to get Ransom Drysdale—the heir to the Blood Like Wine Publishing dynasty and the most blue-blooded Boston man you’d ever met—to agree to take you pumpkin picking out in the “boonies,” as he called anywhere beyond the city limits that wasn’t his “ancestral estate” (also his words).

But since you’d been seeing him for over a year, you knew all of Ransom’s weaknesses. And you’d used them to make a deal with your sugar daddy.

You’re going to have fun, I promise :) Don’t forget our deal.

You certainly hoped Ransom hadn’t forgotten about the arrangement you’d struck that ended up with him taking you pumpkin picking, especially since it was all you could think about that morning as you got ready and did your hair and makeup. Your thoughts kept straying to the deal you’d made, what you’d given him in exchange for the autumnal date of your dreams.

Ransom Drysdale was a dealmaker by trade, overseeing all publication acquisitions for Blood Like Wine. So after all your normal methods of persuasion had failed to convince him to take you pumpkin picking, you’d offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse. It was one that you knew you both would enjoy, but Ransom especially since it appealed to his nature.

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine as you stood inside the walk-in closet of your Beacon Hill townhouse apartment—the one Ransom paid for, of course.

It had been a gift when you’d accepted his request to be exclusively his sugar baby. He was the only man in your life anymore, and he’d said he wanted to make sure you were taken care of, so he got you the apartment and set up an allowance to make up for the other relationships you’d had to end.

Truthfully, it had been an incredibly easy decision to accept Ransom’s request. He was easily the youngest and handsomest of any man you’d been a sugar baby to—and if you had the tiniest little crush on him, you’d been certain you’d be able to keep it locked down so you didn’t jeopardize your relationship.

After all, Ransom had been clear when you first met: He wasn’t looking to fall in love.

Unfortunately for you, over the year that you’d been seeing him exclusively, your crush had blossomed into full-blown feelings. It was hard not to care for the grumpy, sarcastic publishing executive. He made you laugh, he made you feel safe, and the sex with him was better than any you’d ever had.

More than a year into seeing him and it got harder and harder to hide the fact that you cared deeply for him. You wanted to bundle yourself in one of his sweaters and stay with him forever—but you knew you couldn’t let on about your feelings. You didn’t want to risk him finding out and ending your relationship because he feared you were falling in love with him…

Of course, there were other ways your relationship could end.

Your fingers toyed with the sleeve of a sweater hanging in your closet as you thought about your sugar daddy. A pit in your stomach opened wide as you considered, yet again, it was probably inevitable that one day he would grow tired of you and move on to someone else. Even if you didn’t tell him how you felt, he could still leave you.

It was what happened with these kinds of relationships—the men left when they got bored or tired. Or when they wanted to settle down. Or when they fell in love with someone else.

Add to that, you were keenly aware that you were getting old enough that a man as young as Ransom—who was in his 40s—might want to soon trade you in for a newer, younger model.

The thought broke your heart a little, and you had to push it away. You cut off the entire train of thought, knowing that it would lead nowhere good, especially when your sugar daddy was due to pick you up in just a short time. As you went back to getting ready, in your mind, you repeated your mantra to yourself: You would not love Ransom Drysdale.

It was a lie, of course, but you were hoping that if you said it to yourself enough times it would become true. It hadn’t worked yet, though.

Thankfully, your phone vibrated, distracting you.

Wear that skirt I like. And one of the sweaters you stole from me.

A huff of an affronted laugh escaped you at the brisk tone of Ransom’s message. You hated it when he barked orders at you like you were one of the interns at his office. Sure, technically you were his employee, but he didn’t have to use that tone—especially before a date.

You assumed he was cranky because he still didn’t want to go pumpkin picking, but that didn’t mean you had to put up with it. Or respond at all. Even if you did follow his orders, since that was part of your deal for the day.

Tossing your phone on your bed without replying, you pulled out the skirt he was referring to from your closet. It was a short, flouncy thing that swished dangerously around your thighs, offering tantalizing teases of your ass to anyone who might be looking at your backside.

Ransom loved it because it afforded him a sneak peek of what lingerie you were wearing. One of his favorite things to gift you as his sugar baby was lingerie. He loved seeing you in it, touching you in it, fucking you in it. And what he liked most was sneaking a peek of your lingerie from those glimpses beneath your flouncy skirt.

On that September morning, you selected a black satin matching set to wear beneath the skirt, then pulled a maroon sweater from the pile in your closet.

He may have been a spoiled, rich man, but Ransom was a gentleman, and if you were cold, he’d give you his sweater—which was how you’d amassed a small hoard of your sugar daddy’s sweaters. You never could bring yourself to give them back once they made their way into your closet. Nor could you bear to wash them.

In your loneliest moments, you’d pull on one of Ransom’s sweaters and let the expensive scent of his cologne comfort you. He smelled like whiskey and something spicy—something that matched perfectly with the fall and winter.

You’d never told anyone about wearing Ransom’s sweaters when you were alone in your Beacon Hill apartment, but your sugar daddy knew you’d collected many of them.

Ransom didn’t seem to mind, though. Or, at least, he never asked for them back. But sometimes, like that day, he’d ask that you wear one for him. It always sent a special thrill through you to wear your sugar daddy’s sweaters, like it meant he was staking a claim on you that was deeper and more like a typical romantic relationship.

A giddy, happy smile curled your lips as you got dressed and added jewelry before checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still done to your satisfaction.

You were just pulling on some black mary jane shoes when your phone chimed with another text.

Let me see, nixie.

Your traitorous heart fluttered at the nickname. Most of the sugar daddies you’d had relationships with called you by much more common pet names—sweetheart, honey—if they used them at all. But leave it to Ransom to pull a pet name from obscure European folklore.

You’d had to look it up after the first time he used it, and when you found out it was a kind of river mermaid who lured men to their deaths, you’d laughed to yourself. Ransom had essentially likened you to a siren, and at the time, you’d wondered if he believed you could lure him to his death. It seemed ridiculous, especially when you were the one in danger of getting their heart broken.

Sometimes, when he used that pet name, you wondered if Ransom liked you as much as you liked him. If that was why he’d chosen it, because he worried you’d hurt him somehow. But that was a dangerous thought and you reminded yourself it would only lead to heartbreak.

You tried not to have a reaction to the nickname. You tried to stop your heart from fluttering and your lips from curving into a smile. But it was impossible.

So to distract yourself, you did as Ransom had asked in his message. You snapped a quick photo of your outfit—the short, flouncy skirt paired with his maroon sweater and your black mary janes. You’d chosen to forgo tights because September in Massachusetts could get warm, especially with the sun shining as brightly as it was outside your window.

You sent the photo and began gathering your things to wait for Ransom to arrive for your date, but his response came back quicker than you expected.

Pretty, but I want to see it in person. I’m outside.

Your heart gave another flutter at the compliment, then flipped entirely when he said he was outside. Bounding to your bedroom window that overlooked the cobblestone streets of Beacon Hill, you grinned when you saw Ransom’s silver 1972 BMW coupe parked outside your door.

Ransom might not be as excited for your pumpkin picking date as you were, but he was early. That had to mean something, right?

You didn’t let that thought flourish any further, pushing it aside as you grabbed your keys and phone and shoved them in the bag you’d picked to match your outfit. Then you were flouncing down the stairs of your townhouse to the front door and pushing through it, pausing only to lock it behind you.

When you turned to the street, you were struck with the sight of Ransom Drysdale leaning against his BMW, a to-go cup of coffee in his hand. Your heart raced and your belly swooped—it felt like your entire body was having a visceral reaction to seeing Ransom dressed in an autumnal outfit that suited him so well.

A golden brown wool coat hung off Ransom’s broad shoulders, slightly obscuring the worn cream-colored cable knit sweater that covered his expansive chest. A purple and gold scarf with some kind of intricate design hung casually around his neck, adding to the look that was completed by dark slacks, brown loafers and a pair of sunglasses with gold rims that matched the rings he wore on his hands.

Despite his sunglasses, you could feel Ransom’s eyes on you and you bit your lip against a giddy grin, worried that your schoolgirl crush on your sugar daddy would show plain as day on your face if you let it slip free. Instead, you gave him an exaggerated onceover before letting out a low whistle of appreciation as you stepped into the narrow sidewalk lining the cobblestone street.

“Quit gawking and c’mere, nixie,” Ransom growled, using his free hand to grab your waist and pull you into him.

You landed against his broad, muscular chest with a light, “oomph,” and instantly wound your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the way he felt so steady and solid against you.

“You love it when I check you out, don’t you, daddy?” you teased in a soft voice meant only for him.

The street wasn’t busy, but it was so narrow that if any of your neighbors had their windows open to let in the crisp September air, they’d easily be able to overhear you. And you didn’t want anyone else hearing you call Ransom ‘daddy’—that was just for him.

“I do,” Ransom admitted in a rumbling voice, matching your low tone. “And I love looking at you in your pretty little outfit I picked out…” He trailed off, ducking down closer to you and nudging your nose to tilt your head back, ghosting his mouth over your lips teasingly when you canted your face to meet his. “But daddy needs a kiss, baby.”

The words were barely past his lips before you were surging up onto your tiptoes and kissing Ransom. He tasted like black coffee and cinnamon, and you couldn’t get enough of it. When his tongue slid across your lower lip seeking entrance, you were helpless to do anything but open for him, moaning softly as he plunged into your mouth.

The kiss had started out chaste enough for the sidewalk of Beacon Hill, but Ransom seemed to be as ravenous as you felt, hooking his arms around your waist and bending you backward with the intensity of his need to devour you.

It had your head spinning with pleasure, but you still gave him as good as you got, kissing him back with just as much fervor, your leg rising of its own accord to hook around his thigh beneath his open coat.

Gradually, Ransom slowed the kiss until his mouth was decadently nibbling on your lower lip before licking the sting of his teeth away. Then, finally, he pulled away and you were able to drag in a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight as you lowered your leg back to the sidewalk.

“Get in the car, nixie,” Ransom growled, though there was no anger in his tone, only a desirous heat that you recognized, since it was swirling warmly in the depths of your core. “Before I decide I’d rather take you back inside your apartment and fuck you in nothing but my sweater instead of taking you pumpkin picking.”

His free hand slid down your back and he groped the soft curve of your ass shamelessly over your skirt, right there on the street. Still, you couldn’t help but melt at his rough handling, a gasp escaping as his fingers dug ruthlessly into your flesh.

For just a second, you debated whether you wanted Ransom to deliver on his threat, but decided against it. The prospect of seeing your sugar daddy going pumpkin picking was too good to pass up.

“Ok, ok, I’m getting in the car,” you huffed on a laugh, your voice breathy in a way you couldn’t help as you squirmed away from Ransom’s groping hand. Your sugar daddy chuckled, but let you go, then turned to open the door of his BMW for you.

He waited until you were settled on the soft leather seat, your seatbelt buckled across your lap, then leaned into the car and handed you the coffee he’d been holding. You took it with no small amount of surprise, having assumed it was his own coffee.

“For you, your favorite,” he murmured before brushing a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry for being short with you this morning.”

A stunned expression froze on your face, his words spinning around in your mind so loudly, you barely heard the thump of the car door closing. Your eyes flicked up to watch Ransom cross in front of the car, your heart racing like you’d just sprinted an entire marathon.

It was then that you knew, unequivocally, without any doubt, that you loved Ransom Drysdale.

Your sugar daddy slid smoothly into the driver’s seat and pulled his door shut before glancing at you. You gave him a weak smile, trying to hid the fact that you felt like a bomb had just been dropped inside your heart, and his expression twisted into one of annoyance.

“Don’t tell me they fucked up your drink,” he fumed, shoving his keys in the ignition and starting his BMW. He threw an arm around the back of your seat, his chest close enough to your shoulder that you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he carefully backed up, then maneuvered onto the street. All the while, he was muttering, “It’s a fucking pumpkin spice latte, they must make thousands of them a day. How can they fuck it up?”

When he merged into traffic at the end of the street heading in the direction of the local coffee shop, Ransom finally pulled his arm away from the back of your seat. You grabbed his hand before he could put it back on the wheel, squeezing it to get his attention.

“The latte’s fine, Ran—it’s perfect,” you assured him, even though you hadn’t taken a sip yet. Some of the anger drained from his expression and he executed a u-turn to turn in the other direction of the coffee shop, but his jaw was still ticking with annoyance and you searched for an explanation that wasn’t the truth. When you couldn’t think of anything else, you blurted, “I was just surprised you remembered my favorite coffee.”

“Of course I remembered,” he said after a moment of silence. His voice was gruff, like he didn’t know what to do with his sweet gesture being addressed so directly, but his mood seemed to lighten, his annoyance forgotten. Slipping his hand from your fingers, he settled his palm firmly on your thigh, giving you a playful squeeze as he shot you a smirk. “Though I don’t think that sugary nonsense should really be called coffee,” he snarked, giving your leg another squeeze to let you know he was only teasing.

You huffed an exasperated laugh and settled your free hand on top of his, holding onto him while he drove skillfully through the busy streets of Boston, heading toward the city limits.

Ransom’s joke washed away the remnants of whatever tension your revelation, and your need to hide it from him, had caused between the two of you. Of course, you still felt the knowledge that you loved him hovering at the edge of your mind, but it was easy to sink into Ransom’s comforting presence and, if not entirely forget about it, at least more easily pretend you didn’t know you were in love with your sugar daddy.

On the drive, you made conversation with Ransom, asking him about his work and his family. He’d spent time with them the previous weekend and hadn’t seen you as a result. But he skipped quickly over the family party he’d attended and instead focused on telling you about some of the books he’d acquired for Blood Like Wine.

You didn’t like Ransom’s family, based on what little you knew about them. And you didn’t feel even a little bit bad about it because you were certain they’d never like you, especially considering how you’d met Ransom. But it still made you sad to think about him facing them alone. Your heart thumped with sympathy and you curled your fingers more possessively around his hand on your thigh.

Ransom shot you a lopsided smile and turned the conversation around on you, asking about what books you’d been reading, and how the rest of your hobbies were going. He didn’t need to ask about your work because he’d made sure you didn’t need a job other than keeping him company—and especially didn’t need any other sugar daddies.

So you told him about what you were reading and all the other things you did to occupy your time while he listened and asked questions. He especially loved hearing your opinions on the Blood Like Wine books he’d acquired.

A little over an hour outside the city, Ransom’s BMW pulled into a gravel driveway beside a large sign that read Johnson’s Family Farm. There were smaller signs lining the drive advertising the farm’s apple orchards, hayrides, farm stand, and, of course, the pumpkin patch.

Beyond the windows of Ransom’s BMW, you could see the farm sprawling out toward the distant horizon, plenty of picturesque little red buildings and beautiful fields filled with various fruits and vegetables. But there was something off about the farm, and it took you a moment to realize what it was: The whole place was deserted.

It was a little early in the day, just after lunch time, but you were still surprised by how empty the parking lot was. And you didn’t even see any workers, or cars that might belong to them. It was just Ransom’s BMW and the deserted farm.

“Where is everyone?” you asked, turning in your seat to Ransom. “Are you sure they’re open?” It was the weekend, they must’ve been open, but you couldn’t make sense of why no one was there.

Ransom snorted, giving you a devious smirk as he put the car in park and turned it off.

“I bought out the farm for a couple hours, it’s just us and the pumpkins, nixie,” he explained, squeezing your thigh one last time before stepping out of the car and rounding the front to open your door for you.

You stepped out onto the gravel in a bit of a daze, still shocked by his words. You knew Ransom was wealthy—he was a high-level executive at one of the most successful prestige publishers in the country, not to mention the money he inherited from his family—but him buying out an entire farm just for your date was one of the most extravagant things he’d ever done. Your mind reeled as you tried to fathom how much that would even cost.

Ransom curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. He’d taken off his sunglasses, so you were met with the sight of his sparkling blue eyes. Paired with his devastatingly handsome smirk, your knees instantly went weak and your mouth parted in a wordless plea for him to kiss you.

He dropped a quick peck to your lips that was over too soon and swept his thumb across your cheek in a soothing gesture, your surprise melting into happiness as you realized you got to have Ransom all to yourself on your date.

“C’mon, nixie, did you really think I’d agree to go pumpkin picking—to go tromping through the dirt on a farm,” he scoffed, his tone warm even if it was a little derisive. “And deal with hordes of screaming children and their families?”

Ransom raised an eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help but snort a laugh as you rolled your eyes. You didn’t even need to answer, because of course Ransom wouldn’t want to deal with anyone else while he was enduring the absolute torture of going pumpkin picking. But then his next words distracted you from thinking about how spoiled he was.

“Besides, I haven’t forgotten our deal. I have plans for you, and we needed the farm all to ourselves for them,” he teased, his smirk turning impish as he ducked down and captured your lips in another quick kiss.

Your heart was racing with excitement, your mind turning over his words and wondering what he could have planned for you while Ransom grabbed your hand and led you into the farm. You shook your head to clear it of all the naughty thoughts that had popped into your mind, and focused on your sugar daddy, who was following the signs toward the pumpkin patch with a grim acceptance in his expression.

The September sun was warm on your shoulders, but there was a cool breeze, the lingering chill of the morning clinging to the day and you curled around Ransom’s arm while you walked. You tried to distract your sugar daddy from the eventuality of leaving the nice dirt path to wade into the pumpkin patch by chattering about fond memories you had of going apple picking and exploring corn mazes with friends when you were younger.

When you got to the area where you could pick your own pumpkins, Ransom paused at the edge, using your clasped hands to pull you to a stop alongside him. Your chatter cut off mid-sentence and you looked curiously to your sugar daddy, finding his brows lowered over his stormy blue eyes as he considered the haphazard spread of soft soil, scattered hay and orange pumpkins.

“I still don’t really see the point of this,” he muttered, giving the pumpkin patch a dubious look.

You couldn’t help but smile, thinking Ransom looked younger than his years in that moment—like a kid who was being introduced to something new and didn’t trust that they were going to like it.

You curled into Ransom’s chest, your arms twining around his neck while his settled easily around your waist. You looked up at him and waited to speak until he dragged his gaze from the pumpkin patch behind you to meet your eyes.

“Normally, the point would be to take some pumpkins home and carve them,” you explained patiently. Ransom narrowed his eyes on you suspiciously, as if he believed you were going to try to convince him to do such an unfathomably pedestrian thing, and the corners of your mouth flickered as you suppressed an even wider smiler. “But something tells me even my powers of persuasion aren’t strong enough to get you to do that.”

Ransom only snorted, his eyes flicking disdainfully to the pumpkins over your shoulder then back at you. “Definitely not.”

But there was a curiosity buried deep in his gaze, and you wondered if one day—if you were together long enough—he might be willing to try some pumpkin carving.

Surprisingly, you could picture it. Ransom with his worn, threadbare sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grimacing as he yanked pumpkin guts from inside a big, orange gourd. It almost made you giggle to think about.

Instead, you shook your head to clear the image from your thoughts, not wanting to get your hopes up that Ransom would be a fixture in your life long enough that you could convince him to carve pumpkins with you.

Although, maybe if you offered to blow him while he did… You shook your head again and met Ransom’s curious gaze, giving him a bright smile that was only a little bit fake.

“Then we can just pick out a couple pumpkins for my front steps,” you said sunnily, bouncing up onto your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Ransom’s cheek. “They’re pretty decorations whether we carve them or not.”

You began to pull away, intent on starting your search for the perfect pumpkins, but Ransom’s arms tightened around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go yet.

“You’d be a much prettier decoration than any of these gourds, nixie,” he murmured, and you turned your face to him in surprise at the gruffness in his tone. There was some emotion laced through his voice that you couldn’t place, and before you could puzzle it out, Ransom’s mouth caught yours, sending your thoughts scattering as he kissed you deeply.

When you finally broke away for a breath, your body was buzzing with awareness of Ransom’s and a warmth that had nothing to do with the bright September sun had bloomed between your thighs. You had half a mind to drag Ransom back to the car and have him do something about what he’d started, but you were determined to go pumpkin picking.

Pushing aside the distracting hum of desire filling your body, you pulled away from Ransom’s warmth and began carefully stepping through the pumpkin patch. The smell of earth and the distinct scent of pumpkins surrounded you, calming some of the buzzy heat Ransom had stirred up, and you were able to focus on your search for the perfect pumpkins.

Once Ransom got over the fact that he would have to walk through the dirt in his nice loafers—which took a few moments of complaining—he began picking his way through the pumpkins. He kept calling out to you when he’d found one that was particularly deformed or ugly in some way, trying to claim they had “character.” But you knew he was just being a pest to make you laugh and smile.

To his credit, he was making you laugh, and the smile on your face was so wide it hurt a little.

Every time he held up a terrible pumpkin like it was a prize catch, you shook your head at him, but your laughter echoed across the fields of the farm. And you couldn’t help but notice that Ransom seemed to be having fun, too, his own smile staying fixed on his handsome face as you both made your way through the pumpkin patch.

“What about this one?” Ransom called, from a little ways away, having wandered off in a different direction. “Now this is a pumpkin.”

You stood up from where you’d been bent over, looking at some moderately sized pumpkins to find Ransom standing beside a massive orange thing. It was almost as high as Ransom’s waist, tipped on its side, but as you looked harder, something about it seemed off.

First, it was clearly meant to be part of a display set up by the farm, since it stood in front of an artfully arranged stack of hay bales that were topped with smaller pumpkins. The rest of the field stretched out behind the setup, and you suspected it had been constructed in an attempt to give visitors to the farm a photo op, where families or groups of friends could pose for the perfect autumnal pictures.

But as you walked closer to Ransom, and smoothed your hands over the large pumpkin, you realized something else was off about the gourd.

“Ran,” you started dryly, cutting your eyes to him, finding him admiring the pumpkin. “This isn’t a real pumpkin—it’s fake, for the photo op,” you said, waving your hand at the whole display.

Ransom seemed confused for a moment, then looked at the bales of hay arranged behind it as if he was seeing them for the first time. Since you were closer, you could see a little sign that had the name of the farm tacked into the hay, and had to give it to Johnson’s Family Farm—they seemed to know what they were doing.

“Figures the first pumpkin I actually like is fake,” Ransom muttered, turning to you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he curled his big body around yours.

You bit your lip against a laugh and stroked your fingers through his soft brown hair. “Don’t worry, Ran, I’m sure we’ll find something you like.”

His thick arms squeezed you tight and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto one another. It was a sweet moment—until Ransom’s hands began to wander down your back, stroking down your spine to the swell of your ass. But he didn’t stop there. His hands slid further down and under your skirt, groping your thighs shamelessly and kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

“Remind me again about the deal we made, nixie,” Ransom rumbled, his tone thick with lust as he used his big hands to pull you closer, his bulge pressing into your stomach.

Your mind was swimming with desire, your body arched into the bigger form of your sugar daddy, but you managed to remember the words of the agreement you’d made—the one that had finally convinced Ransom it would be worth it to take you pumpkin picking.

“I have to do everything you say,” you recited the terms of your deal, your voice breathless with excitement. “And you can do anything you want with me.”

Ransom made a rumbling sound deep in his chest, the vibrations teasing your nipples through your sweater and sheer lingerie. Your breasts felt heavy, aching to be touched, but you kept your arms around Ransom’s broad shoulders, waiting to see what he’d do.

“I think it’s time for you to pay up, baby,” Ransom murmured, walking you backward until your ass collided with the big, fake pumpkin. “I wanna take some pictures of my pretty sugar baby on the biggest pumpkin in the patch.”

The plastic was cold against your bare thighs and you sucked in a gasp, your body tensing in Ransom’s grip.

He seemed to understand your plight, though, because he uncurled himself from around your body—after giving your ass a lingering squeeze.

Straightening, Ransom’s eyes caught yours, his blue gaze sparkling with mischief and a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth as he shrugged out of his wool coat. He swung it around behind you, laying it down on the pumpkin before his hands fell to your hips.

“Need a boost?” he asked, his lips curving into a deviously handsome smirk as his hands settled on your hips.

Truthfully, you didn’t need the help. The pumpkin was only a little higher than your ass, and you could have easily hopped up onto it. But arousal was slinking through your body, making you feel heavy and achy and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have Ransom’s hands on you for a little longer.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you said sweetly, giving Ransom your most charming smile and enjoying the way his eyes darkened at the honorific.

Ransom pressed close to you, his expensive cologne filling your senses as he pinned you against the pumpkin under the guise of helping you. But you could feel the hard, thick length in his slacks digging into your soft belly and you knew he was enjoying the excuse to hold you just as much as you were.

Slowly, he eased you up onto the pumpkin, the wool of his coat scratchy against the back of your bare thighs, but much warmer and softer than the cold plastic of the decoration.

When he settled you right where he wanted you, it took all your self-control not to spread your legs for Ransom. You bit your lip against a sultry smile and kept your legs closed, trying to look nice for the photos he was going to take.

Still, you couldn’t help but murmur a breathy, “Thank you, daddy,” that had your blood running even hotter through your veins.

Ransom seemed just as affected as you, but he managed to hold himself together, dropping a quick kiss to your lips before rumbling, “Good girl, nixie.”

Then he was stepping away, taking his warmth and delicious scent with him as he retreated a few paces and pulled out his phone. You arranged yourself in a pretty pose on the pumpkin, smiling for Ransom’s camera, and adjusting your legs or arms or the tilt of your head as he asked.

You’d been a little worried that giving Ransom free reign to order you around would lead to him barking commands at you like you were a dog. But he’d taken your words about not liking being talked to like that to heart—no doubt helped by the reminder of his text going unanswered that morning—and he kept his voice warm and light as he guided you through the poses he wanted for the photos he was taking.

It was more fun than you expected. You’d never done any kind of photoshoot, and you found yourself enjoying Ransom’s gentle commands helping you pose for him. He took so many photos of you perched on that fake pumpkin, you began to wonder what he planned to do with them.

But then his directions took a new turn, and you couldn’t help the smirk that curved your lips.

“Now spread your legs,” Ransom urged, bending down so he was crouched in the field, being careful not to let his pants touch the dirt. “Put your feet up—yeah, just like that.” Ransom’s eyes sparkled in the bright September sunshine as he watched you shift into the pose he wanted, his mouth pulled wide in a wolfish grin. “Let daddy see what’s under that pretty skirt of yours.”

Leaning back on your hands, you lifted your knees and spread them wide, balancing precariously on top of the big, fake pumpkin. Your skirt fell around your hips, baring your black silk panties for Ransom’s camera. Even a few paces away, you could hear his inhale of breath when he got his first glimpse of the thin slip of fabric barely covering your glistening slit.

Excited thrills zipped through your body, more wetness gathering between your thighs as you watched Ransom’s blue eyes darken. Your pussy was so close to being on full display in broad daylight, and even though you knew the farm was deserted, the possibility of somehow being caught still made the tension in you crackle deliciously.

But that was the fun of following Ransom’s orders—you’d known from the moment you offered it up for the deal that he would have you doing something naughty. You just hoped, as your core ached to be filled, that your sugar daddy would end the teasing soon and fuck you over the pumpkin he had you sitting on.

“Rub your pussy, baby,” Ransom rumbled, his voice pitching lower. “Let me see you make a mess of your pretty panties—all for me.”

His tone was drenched in a desire that made you even wetter, your body responding to his voice alone. You were so gone for him, you didn’t even care that no other man had ever made you wet just from his voice. You just wanted him to keep talking—keep ordering you to do more filthy things.

Putting all your weight on one hand, you slipped the other between your thighs, using two fingers to rub your clit through your black silk panties. You suspected they were expensive, just like all the lingerie Ransom had gifted you, but you didn’t think about how much they cost. You only stared into Ransom’s camera and let your eyes go heavy-lidded, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as pleasure pulsed through your body.

“Good girl, nixie,” Ransom purred, shifting closer but staying down on his haunches. Soft clicks of a camera shudder came from his phone as he took photo after photo, capturing the way your fingers dipped down to your slit and pushed your panties ever so slightly into your dripping hole. “Fuck—yeah, just like that, rub that pretty pussy like a good little slut for daddy.”

A whimper slipped from your lips and a shudder wracked your whole body at the pleasure that suffused your entire being. Your fingers teased your wet slit while Ransom watched, his phone camera trained on you while he took photos of your lewd actions. It was headier than you would’ve expected, your thoughts scattering as your hips rocked gently, pressing your cunt against your fingers instinctively.

“Daddy, ‘m so empty,” you wailed softly, pushing your fingers into your pussy through your panties, whining desperately when they couldn’t go deep enough. The black satin was soaked in your juices, feeling good as it slipped against your wet lower lips, but you hated it in that moment because it was the only thing stopping you from being filled. “P-please, daddy!”

One of Ransom’s hands dropped from his phone to palm his dick through his pants, and you whimpered louder with a wordless plea. You opened your eyes wider and pouted your lips, imploring him to put you out of your misery—either by giving you another order, or by sinking his fat cock into your aching pussy.

Ransom’s features darkened with desire, his handsome face twisting into an expression that was almost a scowl as he rose from his crouch to tower over where you were perched. Your own expression lightened and turned hopeful, sure he was going to tuck his phone away and fill you up, but instead, he chuckled darkly.

Skimming his free hand down your inner thigh, he groped you briefly, your skin tingling everywhere he touched. But then he ignored your pussy entirely and instead tugged on the hem of your sweater.

“Pull up your shirt, nixie, show me your slutty body,” Ransom rasped, his voice hoarse with his own need while he palmed his dick again, keeping his phone camera trained on you.

You whined and squirmed pathetically at the quick tease of his touch, but followed his order all the same. You tugged the hem of your sweater up, catching it between your teeth to keep it from falling down again before you went back to rubbing your pussy.

You knew how you must’ve looked—your legs spread wide, your shirt pulled up to show off both parts of your black silk matching set and your hand pressed between your thighs, rubbing your pussy shamelessly. You must’ve looked like a perfect little whore for Ransom, and by the way his eyes sparkled and his mouth curved into a satisfied smirk, he loved it.

“Good girl, nixie,” he murmured, soft clicks of the camera shutter coming from his phone as he took even more photos while he stood over you. “You’re such a good little slut for me, baby, such a perfectly obedient girl.” His eyes flicked from his phone screen to your eyes. “Doesn’t it feel good to do everything daddy tells you?”

With the soft cotton of your sweater in your mouth, you couldn’t speak, so you nodded, holding Ransom’s gaze as you did so. You wanted him to see it was the truth—it did feel good to do what he told you. Because you trusted him. You knew he’d never tell you to do anything that might hurt you.

Something shifted in Ransom’s eyes as he read your expression—something that looked a lot like surprise melting into a profound awareness that seemed to frighten him. As you watched, his eyes hardened just a little bit, the hand holding his phone dropping out of the way as he stared at you intensely.

“Are you sure you can handle it, sugar baby, doing everything I tell you?” he asked, a harshness in his tone that spoke to an underlying animosity you knew wasn’t truly directed at you.

You realized all of a sudden that you’d tipped your hand. You’d shown Ransom you trusted him, and, in the process, shown him that your feelings for him were deeper than they should be between a sugar baby their sugar daddy. His question was a challenge, and an offering of an escape at the same time.

But, for all that you’d avoided showing Ransom how you truly felt about him, you simply couldn’t run away from him. If you’d been able to do that, you would’ve parted ways with your sugar daddy already.

So you held Ransom’s glinting blue gaze and nodded resolutely. His expression hardened further.

“Spank your pussy,” Ransom growled, his voice sounding as rough as the gravel in the farm’s parking lot. “Show me what a dirty little slut you are and slap your cunt as hard as you can.”

Your whole body quivered with anticipation as you drew back your hand from your wet, puffy pussy. Your silk panties were soaking wet, and you knew the flimsy fabric wouldn’t protect your sensitive slit from the sting of the spank, but Ransom gave you an order, and you intended to follow it—to show him how much you trusted him, and cared for him.

Using the flat of your fingers, you slapped your cunt as Ransom instructed, as hard as you could manage. Electrifying pain streaked through your body, making you cry out and arch violently on the pumpkin you were perched on, your other hand gripping tightly to Ransom’s wool coat to keep you balanced. A deep, blazing pleasure nipped at the sensation’s heels and your cry devolved quickly into a debauched moan that was muffled by the sweater in your mouth.

It took you a moment to force your gaze back to Ransom, his eyes swirling with so many emotions, you didn’t have a hope of discerning them. But he held his phone up again, no doubt framing you within the screen and said in a gruff voice, “Again.”

That time, since you were expecting it, it was easier to brace for the sting of pain and the burning pleasure that swept the smarting tingle away. But your body still responded, your spine curving and your legs shaking wildly, your lips falling open in another muted moan as your teeth clung to the sweater so it didn’t slip free from your mouth.

Ransom’s camera captured the whole thing—you knew because he watched the screen instead of you, his mouth twisting into a depraved smirk.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Ransom rumbled, some of the warmth you typically heard in your sugar daddy’s voice seeping back into his words. He must’ve heard it, too, because his next words were harsher. “Does it feel good to spank your pussy like the dirty little slut she is?

“Uh huh,” you mumbled around the sweater in your mouth. You tried to tell him it felt good, but the words came out entirely garbled, though Ransom seemed to understand.

“Are you gonna come from slapping your naughty cunt?” he asked, his eyes darkening with hungry intent as he watched your face, waiting for your response.

Your pussy pulsed at his filthy question, and you thought maybe it was possible to come from spanking your puffy slit, especially if your fingers caught your clit with each slap. But truthfully, you didn’t know—you’d never tried. So you answered Ransom honestly, muttering, “Ionno,” around the sweater in your mouth.

Ransom huffed an impatient sound and reached for you to tug the sweater free from your teeth, his actions gentle even despite his obvious annoyance. “Say that again.”

“I-I don’t know,” you whispered. “I can try.”

The expression on Ransom’s face shifted again, but it became even more unreadable. He held your gaze for a moment, as if he was searching for something, though you didn’t know what.

“You want to try?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative.

You acted instinctively, pushing yourself up so you were no longer balancing on your hand and reaching past Ransom’s phone to grab his sweater to pull him down for a kiss. Your lips moved sweetly against his for a moment, before you pulled back and stared deeply into his eyes.

“I want to do everything you tell me to do,” you said, reciting the words of the deal you’d struck with Ransom, but changing them just a little, to tell him again that you wanted him, you trusted him. “I want you to do anything you want with me.”

A look of something almost like fury flitted across Ransom’s face, and then he was surging forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, as if he meant to brand you with his mouth. You moaned into him, which only seemed to make him kiss you harder, his tongue pushing past your lips to sweep into you as if he owned you.

In that moment, if he’d asked, you would have told him he did.

Just as suddenly as he’d kissed you, Ransom pulled away and he shoved his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks. Then, before you’d even recovered from his kiss, he grabbed your hips and spun you to the side, guiding your shoulders down so you were laying draped sideways across the big pumpkin.

“Panties off,” he growled, his voice a low rumbling contrast to the sharp clinking of his belt buckle as he undid his pants. “Give ‘em to me.”

You were quick to follow his orders, hooking your fingers in the black silk panties and shoving them down your legs, pulling them off and then handing them to Ransom. You watched your sugar daddy hold them up to his face and take a deep breath, inhaling your scent as his other hand dove into his boxer briefs.

Because your head was hanging over the side of the fake pumpkin beneath your back, you had a front row seat to Ransom’s big hand stroking his hard length, your mouth watering with the desire to taste him on your tongue. A whine slipped from your lips and you squirmed, getting Ransom’s attention.

He chuckled darkly, tucking your panties into the pocket of his slacks that didn’t hold his phone and then shoved them and his boxer briefs down. His thick, fat cock fell on your face, making you flinch in surprise at the slight slap of it against your skin. But in the next breath, you were tilting your face up and kissing him affectionately, murmuring in contentment when his musky taste hit your tongue.

“Such a perfect little slut, baby,” Ransom rasped, his praise drenched in that warm tone that had your heart beating happily in your chest. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and slapped it gently on your smiling lips. “Open your mouth and spread your legs.”

Immediately, you did as Ransom said, parting your thighs and opening your mouth wide, then waiting for what came next. You weren’t surprised when Ransom didn’t waste any time before pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.

He let out a low, filthy groan as he thrust deep in your mouth, pressing into your throat until you could feel him bulging in the front of your neck. He held there, his balls nestled against your nose while you swallowed around him, trying to get used to the intrusion while he groaned obscenely at how good you felt.

“Fuck yeah, baby, take daddy’s cock in your pretty little throat,” he rumbled, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat and pressing down lightly, grunting when he felt himself twitching inside you. “You’re such a perfect little slut, ’s like you were made for me—all for me.”

You moaned around Ransom’s cock, hoping he took the sound for the agreement it was as you lay beneath him, your hips squirming and your pussy fluttering in the cool September air. Your wiggling seemed to get Ransom’s attention and he leaned over you, his big hand sliding between your thighs to rub your already messy pussy.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmured, his voice sounding like sunshine with the affection clear in his tone. “You still wanna see if you can come from getting your pussy spanked?” he asked, a smirk in his words.

You nodded as best you could, your hips squirming and bucking, practically begging for him without using a single word—not that you could utter any with his cock buried so deeply in your throat.

His fingers slid teasingly against your clit and you bucked harder, grinding against him as best you could.

Your antics made Ransom laugh quietly as he muttered, “Alright, baby,” in a placating voice.

That was the only warning you got—that and his hand disappearing from your pussy. Ransom’s big hand came down on your pussy sharply, the flat of his fingers spanking your pussy much harder than you. Still, you could feel he was holding back from using all his strength, only giving it to you as hard as he knew you could take.

And take it you did.

A muffled scream clawed its way up your throat and slipped past your lips to be muffled against Ransom’s balls as white-hot pain flooded your body, followed closely by the all-consuming burn of pleasure. A tremor shook your limbs and you choked on Ransom’s cock, your throat squeezing him tight enough to wring a grunt from him.

“Fuck—did that feel good, baby?” he rumbled, his fingers dipping into your hole and rubbing your juices all over your pussy, paying special attention to your clit. “Do you like it when daddy spanks your slutty pussy? Because you’re squeezing my cock like you want me to do it again.”

His voice was drenched in warmth and humor and you whined in response as you planted your feet on the curve of the fake pumpkin and bucked your hips up against his hand, pleasure coiling tight in your core. You knew it was only a matter of a few more smacks from Ransom’s hand before that coil was snapping and you were going to come from him spanking your pussy.

“That sounds like a yes, but I wanna feel you nod, baby,” Ransom murmured, his other hand petting your cheek softly.

You couldn’t see him from the angle you were at, but you could hear the smile in his tone and you melted a little, your legs falling open wider as you nodded for him.

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers stroking over the bulge in your throat while his others rubbled your clit, making your tight channel squeeze his cock tighter. “And what do you do if it’s too much? Show daddy,” he urged as his fingers trailed lower, until they dipped into your black satin bra and swirled around your nipples until they were stiff peaks.

Meanwhile, you reached back and patted the outside of Ransom’s thigh three times, the sign you’d established with him early on in your relationship for when you needed a break but didn’t have the capacity to use words.

“Good, you’re such a good girl,” he purred. His hand kept sliding lower down your body until he reached your thighs. He grabbed your soft flesh and pushed your legs open even wider. “Now, let’s see if we can make your pretty pussy come just from being spanked while I fuck your slutty mouth.”

You barely had a chance to moan your agreement before Ransom’s hand came down on your cunt again, the sharp, slick sound of his fingers slapping your wet flesh meeting your ears before the stinging pain and scorching pleasure sent your thoughts skittering away.

He rubbed your clit roughly and moved his hips, thrusting shallowly into your mouth, grunting and groaning at the feel of your moans vibrating through him and your throat squeezing him every time he slapped your pussy.

Ransom fell into a rhythm, spanking your pussy as hard as he thought you could handle, his fingers catching your clit every time, and fucking your throat while you lay draped over the big, fake pumpkin in that deserted pumpkin patch.

You were at the mercy of Ransom, and he seemed to know it just as much as you did—and he didn’t take it for granted. His hands were purposeful with every touch, every spank, his hips never pushing too hard against your head as he fucked your mouth. It was filthy and dirty and yet you could feel the depth of his caring in everything he did to you.

It wasn’t long before you were pushed to the precipice of your release, your body trembling uncontrollably, the coil in your core wound so tight, you knew it would snap any second.

Ransom must’ve felt it too, because he started up a constant refrain of, “Good girl, baby, come for me—come for daddy, baby. You’re doing so good, wanna watch your pretty pussy come, baby, c’mon, lemme see.” His words were so sweet and warm and wicked, you were unable to do anything but follow his gentle command.

On the next slap to your cunt, the coil of pleasure in your belly snapped, and your entire body went tight with white-hot tension before it burst free into decimating waves of pleasure. Ransom’s cock muffled your scream as you came, your hips bucking and pussy convulsing beneath his warm palm as you rubbed your soaking wet slit against him.

You were so consumed by your release, you didn’t notice the way Ransom had frozen, and you barely felt him pulling his cock free from your mouth. You only knew that suddenly you were able to pull in deep breaths and smell the crisp scent of the pumpkin patch.

Your head spun when Ransom gently pushed you to sit up and hauled you off the pumpkin, your feet hitting the soft soil of the field and your knees nearly buckling as your body still shivered from the waves of pleasure rolling through you.

Ransom sat heavily on his wool coat still draped haphazardly over the top of the pumpkin, his hands greedily grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap. Your knees bracketed his thighs while his hands grabbed your ass and guided you to sit up. Then you felt the tip of his cock slide against your still fluttering hole and you moaned, your head dropping back like you didn’t have the strength to hold it up anymore.

“Can’t fucking believe you came from getting your pussy spanked, baby,” Ransom was mumbling, his big hands changing the angle of your hips until the head of his cock was pressed to your entrance. “Gotta feel it, gotta…” He cut off on a grunt when he pushed into your slick, pulsing pussy, his hands shifting to your hips so he could pull you down onto his hard, throbbing length.

Your hands found Ransom’s biceps and you held onto him, your fingers tangling in the thick weave of his cable knit sweater as you quickly sank down on his cock. He was so thick and long, it stung a little to impale yourself so fast without any kind of preparation, but you didn’t care. You were too greedy for his cock to take your time, a deep, primal instinct driving you to take him as fast as you could while your mind was still reeling from your first release.

“Oh fu-uck,” Ransom groaned brokenly, his head falling against your chest. You could feel his face pressing into your sternum, his heavy exhale ghosting between the swells of your breasts. It was against your bare skin, your heart racing just beneath the surface, that Ransom confessed, “I love you, nixie.”

At his words, you went deathly still. For an unending moment, your mind reeled and you tried to be certain you’d heard Ransom correctly. You were sure you couldn’t have.

It didn’t seem like he realized what he’d said until he felt you stiffen in his lap. Then, Ransom sat up slowly, his gaze sharp as it raked over your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

Licking your lips to bide you time to find your voice, you forced yourself to ask the question your heart needed an answer to.

“Do you mean it?”

Ransom’s expression tightened, his eyes going even more wary, but he nodded—a quick, dip of his chin—and you sucked in a breath.

A tingling warmth started at the top of your head and cascaded through your body, filling you with a bright, fizzling feeling. It took a moment for you to recognize it was happiness. But not just happiness—it was pure, unfiltered joy.

Your sugar daddy loved you. Ransom Drysdale loved you.

His expression was growing more and more distant with every second that passed without you responding and you couldn’t have that.

Squealing in delight, you launched yourself at him—not that it was such a far distance, considering you were in his lap—and he let out a soft, “oof,” when you collided with his chest, your arms winding around his neck and squeezing him tight.

“I love you, too, Ran,” you confessed on an exhale. It felt so good to get the words off your chest, that you repeated them. “I love you.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ransom said on a sigh of relief as he gathered you tighter against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back while the other braced against your spine so his hand could cup the back of your neck. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, nixie.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t love you back?” you asked softly before pressing a kiss to Ransom’s soft cheek because you couldn’t help yourself. The scent of his cologne filled your senses and you smiled against his jaw, kissing him again and again, like you’d never get enough of it.

“Wasn’t sure,” he admitted gruffly.

You giggled at the sheepishness in his tone, pulling back until you could see his face. He was blushing a little, a tiny bit of pink tinging his cheeks and making him look adorable. You couldn’t help yourself from cupping his handsome face in your hands and leaning forward to brush a sweet kiss to his mouth.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmured, in between teasing kisses. “I love you when you’re grumbling about going pumpkin picking, and I love you when you’re spanking my pussy, and I love you when you’re bringing me my favorite coffee because you remembered what I liked.”

You kept kissing him until Ransom was chuckling, his hand squeezing the back of your neck in an affectionate gesture. He reeled you in for a deeper kiss, cutting off your list of all the times you’d loved him. But you and Ransom were smiling too much to kiss properly, your teeth knocking against each other and making you both laugh even more.

Your joyful laughter soon devolved into soft moans and grunts when Ransom rocked his hips, shifting his cock even deeper inside you. Your fingers threaded through his soft brown hair and you clung to him while you rolled your hips, grinding down on his stiff length until you were breathless with renewed desire.

“Fuck, nixie—nixie, ‘m not gonna last much longer,” Ransom groaned, his arms tightening around your back and holding you pinned against his chest while he fucked up into you. “Your pussy’s too perfect—too fucking warm and tight and good for me.”

“Come inside me, Ran,” you whispered heatedly, feeling his cock twitch at your suggestion. You moaned softly in his ear. Your clit was grinding against the base of Ransom’s cock, and it wouldn’t be long before you came for a second time. “Please, daddy, fill me up—wanna feel your come leaking from my pussy while we’re picking pumpkins, daddy, please,” you begged in a pathetic whine.

“I love you—fuck, I love you so fucking much, nixie,” Ransom growled, pressing his face to your cheek and nudging you to the side until his mouth found yours. He kissed you so long and so deeply, it made your head spin, and he fucked you all the while, pounding into your cunt hard enough that the pleasure he gave you was edged with just enough delicious pain that you were falling off the edge and coming in no time.

Ransom swallowed your screams of pleasure as you came, your pussy clenching his cock hard enough that he followed right after, grunting into your mouth so that it was your turn to muffle his sounds with your lips.

Coming at the same time was heady and all-consuming and you were so happy you felt like you could float away if it wasn’t for Ransom’s arms holding you so tightly to his chest. And you were glad for it, because you didn’t want to float away unless he came with you.

The two of you gradually eased down from your highs together, still kissing, still murmuring your love for one another as if you could pass the words between your lips as easily as you exchanged breaths.

Finally, your rocking bodies gently stilled and your racing hearts returned to steady, normal drumbeats. The September sun was bright, keeping you warm from the chill in the air as you snuggled into your sugar daddy—the man that you loved, and who loved you in return.

Your head was still spinning and trying to process everything you’d both admitted while laying against Ransom’s chest, your fingers playing idly with a loose thread in his sweater, when he finally broke the comfortable silence that had fallen.

“If we carve up some of these pumpkins, do I really have to clean out all the guts with my bare hands?”

His question, and the almost whining tone in his voice, had you choking on a surprised laugh. You leaned back, looking into Ransom’s face to see if he was joking, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was giving the pumpkin patch another dubious look, making you laugh again as you shook your head at him.

“No, you could wear gloves, and there’s usually a scoop that comes in the pumpkin carving kits at the store,” you explained to him, your tone filled with humor even as you kept it even and patient. “You don’t have to touch the pumpkin guts if you don’t want to.”

Your fingers stroked through the hair at the nape of his neck and he seemed to relax, though whether it was from your assurance or your touch, you couldn’t tell. You suspected it was both.

After a moment, Ransom seemed to reach some sort of decision because he heaved a deep sigh and met your gaze. His blue eyes were shimmering in the bright afternoon sunlight, and the affection in his gaze warmed you despite the chill in the air.

“Alright, let’s find some pumpkins worth carving,” he said, though his grim tone made it sound like he was suggesting you both walk into battle.

A smile spread across your face and you giggled happily. “You mean it?”

“Of course, nixie,” Ransom rumbled, leaning in and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “There’s very little I wouldn’t do to make you happy—I thought that was clear when I agreed to an afternoon of pumpkin picking.”

You laughed softly, ghosting your lips over his in a teasing gesture as your heart fluttered in your chest, happiness swooping through your belly. But still, his words didn’t exactly match up to your memory of events, especially given everything you’d done to get him to agree to the date—including the deal you’d made.

“Silly me, and here I thought it was because of the deal we made,” you murmured.

“Mm, nope,” Ransom said, popping the ‘p’ in nope. “Woulda taken you pumpkin picking even without the deal—just liked watching you convince me.” He brushed feather-light kisses along your jaw, making you hum happily at the soft press of his lips after you snorted at his comment. “But now that you mention it, our arrangement extends to the pumpkin carving portion of this date, yeah?”

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, having a hard time following the conversation when he sucked gently on the spot just beneath your ear that had your head falling to the side to give him better access. You shook your head lightly and found the words to form a proper response. “Sure, it lasts as long as the date does.”

You felt Ransom’s mouth curve as he smirked against the side of your neck. “Good,” he purred, kissing down your throat until he got to the line of your sweater. “Gonna make you suck my cock while I clean out our pumpkins.”

Buzzy excitement and warm desie flooded through you at his words and it was your turn to smile. You remembered that you’d considered offering to blow him to get him to carve pumpkins just that morning, so you obviously had nothing against his suggestion. You were eager for it to become a reality.

“Whatever you say, daddy,” you murmured in your sweetest voice.

Ransom huffed an amused laugh before his mouth found yours again.

The two of you kissed for a little while longer, until your knees and hips started to protest sitting in the same position on that big, fake pumpkin for so long. Ransom helped you down from his lap and towed you back toward the farm stand, so you could clean up in the nice employee bathroom—though he refused to give you your panties back.

You spent the rest of the early afternoon picking out pumpkins with Ransom, then he carried them back to his BMW and put them in the trunk. While he drove you both back to the city, he gave you his phone and told you to pick out your favorite of the photos he’d taken of you.

You asked him if he only wanted you to pick from the lewd photos, and he told you to also pick one of the pictures he’d taken of you with your clothes covering you. When you asked him what it was for, he told you he wanted to frame it and put it on his desk in his office. Your heart fluttered when he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, admitting he missed you while he was at work.

If you hadn’t already known you were in love with him, you would’ve known then, your heart squeezing in happiness while your fingers tightened around his. Since you didn’t have to hold back your emotions anymore, you told him how much you loved him, and he responded by repeating the words and kissing your hand again.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at your townhouse apartment in Beacon Hill, cleaning out and carving the pumpkins you’d picked before putting candles in them and setting them on the steps outside your front door. Before the date was over, you even got Ransom Drysdale—your sugar daddy and the man that you loved—to admit he had fun.

Of course, you had to promise you’d never tell anyone. But you assured him you could keep it secret, so long as he loved you. He grinned, and promised you he always would, then he sealed the deal with a kiss.

And that was how an afternoon of pumpkin picking turned into a beautiful life together.

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡♡♡

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x you #sugar daddy ransom drysdale #love confessions #sugar daddy au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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kenyummy · 9 months ago

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BEACH DAY ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK

SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?

note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!

TODAY

is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.

So, you were heading to the beach.

The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.

It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed.

So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.

Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...

You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.

Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go.

You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.

You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.

With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.

They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.

Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.

You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.

Too bad this peace would not last for too long.

Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.

You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.

A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.

Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.

"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"

He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."

It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."

Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"

"YOU—!!!"

Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...

"Hello, Isagi."

Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."

He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"

He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"

He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.

Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids.

And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.

Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio.

Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).

"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."

"Get your eyes off my chest."

"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.

"You too, stupid crow."

"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."

You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."

"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"

He pauses. "Point taken."

Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around.

Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.

You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).

"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."

You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."

Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be.

"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."

Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.

Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.

"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."

Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."

He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"

You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."

He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."

"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."

He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."

"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."

You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."

He says, but you do not catch it.

Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"

The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"

His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."

Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."

"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"

You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."

He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."

"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."

You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"

You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.

Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.

Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.

Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).

You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children.

You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.

You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]."

You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.

"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."

Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."

He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."

You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."

The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.

You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.

You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment.

It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."

The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"

Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?

Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"

You laugh. "I know."

The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.

Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.

"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"

You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.

He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek.

You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.

You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.

Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back.

You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."

You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."

Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.

You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.

Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.

Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"

You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."

"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"

You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."

The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"

Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."

You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"

He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."

"You sound like you care about that more than me."

"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."

You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"

He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."

You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.

Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.

You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.

"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.

"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"

Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"

The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"

He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.

You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."

Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.

Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"

Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.

You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"

Huh? Ready for what—!!!

You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness.

You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.

Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.

You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.

You've never felt prouder of yourself.

You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.

His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.

"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."

You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.

Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.

You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"

He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."

Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.

He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"

The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.

His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."

He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.

His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.

His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.

The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two.

It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.

You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.

Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.

The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.

Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.

Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.

"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."

When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.

He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.

Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.

Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.

The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."

He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"

He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.

Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?

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elikajinnie · 4 months ago

Text

Hate Is A Strong Word - N.R

P: Slytherin!Ni-ki X fem!reader

Synopsis: You never imagined that the picture perfect Slytherin would like you

Warnings?: Fluff, Misunderstandings, bullying (not from N-ki). Insecurities.

a/n: So this is the start of my Hogwarts au for each of the members. Ni-ki is the first one out! :D The next one will be Jake!

masterlist

----

As the heavy oak doors of the Transfiguration classroom creaked open, you walked in alongside your friend Leeseo. The room, illuminated by large arched windows that allowed beams of sunlight to dance across the stone floor, was already buzzing with the chatter of students.

Leeseo nudged you gently, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I heard today’s lesson is going to be something really challenging,” she whispered, her excitement barely contained. You nodded, sharing her eagerness. Transfiguration was one of the most fascinating subjects at Hogwarts, and Professor McGonagall’s classes were always a blend of rigorous discipline and awe-inspiring magic.

As you took your seats, you glanced toward the front of the classroom. There, standing tall and composed by the blackboard, was Professor McGonagall. Her stern yet kind eyes surveyed the room, ensuring everyone was settled. With her wand in hand, she exuded an air of authority and wisdom, her emerald robes flowing gracefully around her.

The murmurs gradually subsided as McGonagall stepped forward, her presence commanding your attention. “Good morning, class,” she began, her voice clear and steady. “Today, we will be advancing to human transfiguration, a complex and delicate branch of magic that requires utmost precision and concentration.”

The mention of human transfiguration sent a ripple of excitement and nervousness through the room. You exchanged a quick, thrilled glance with Leeseo. This was the kind of magic that defined wizardry, the intricate spells that transformed the very essence of matter.

Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, and the blackboard behind her filled with neat, precise instructions and diagrams. “Now, before we begin, I must remind you of the importance of practice and control. Improper transfiguration can have… unintended consequences.” Her eyes swept the room, emphasizing the seriousness of her words.

With a final nod of understanding, you prepared your wand and opened your textbook to the designated chapter.

After Transfiguration, your day continued with a series of classes, each filled with the usual hustle and bustle of student life at Hogwarts. Charms was lively as always, with Professor Flitwick’s enthusiastic instruction keeping everyone engaged. Herbology followed, where you worked in the greenhouse, learning about magical plants and their properties.

As the day wore on, you eventually made your way to the dungeon for Potions class. The air grew cooler and the corridors darker as you descended, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. You and Leeseo entered the dimly lit classroom, settling into your usual seats near the middle. Around you, your classmates were chatting in low tones, the anticipation palpable.

The door swung open with a dramatic flair, and Professor Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him. The room fell silent instantly, every student turning their attention to the formidable Potions Master. Snape’s presence commanded a certain respect—or perhaps fear—that was undeniable.

“Today,” Snape began, his voice a silky drawl that carried a hint of menace, “you will brew a Veritaserum.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the class. “A truth potion, which when correctly brewed, will compel the drinker to reveal their innermost secrets.”

He moved to the front of the classroom, where a cauldron was already simmering. With precise, deliberate movements, he began demonstrating the brewing process, adding ingredients with a practiced ease. His every action was fluid, almost mesmerizing, and you found yourself taking meticulous notes, your eyes darting between the instructions in the textbook and Snape’s methodical demonstration.

“Take care to follow the instructions exactly,” Snape intoned, his dark eyes sweeping the room. “Any deviation could render the potion useless… or worse.”

He finished his demonstration and stepped back, crossing his arms. “I have set up each of you with a partner, so I expect you all to work together,” he announced. The room buzzed with curiosity as you waited for your name to be called.

One by one, Snape called out the pairings. Leeseo was partnered with a Gryffindor student, and soon your name came up. “You will be working with Nishimura Ni-ki,” Snape declared.

You glanced over at Ni-ki, a Slytherin student known for his cunning nature and sharp intellect. Your eyes met briefly before he stood up and walked toward you, his expression neutral. He took the seat beside you, and for a moment, you simply looked at each other, assessing.

“Shall I cut and you brew?” Ni-ki asked, his voice calm and steady.

You nodded in agreement. “That sounds good.”

With a silent understanding, you both began your task. Ni-ki’s hands moved deftly, slicing ingredients with precision and efficiency, while you focused on the careful process of brewing, ensuring each step was followed meticulously. Though you didn’t converse much, there was an unspoken coordination between you, a shared goal that drove your efforts.

The potion started to take shape, its color gradually shifting as you added each ingredient in turn. Ni-ki’s sharp observations and quick corrections were invaluable, and you found yourself appreciating his expertise despite your limited interactions.

As the final stages approached, the potion glowed a soft, silvery hue, indicating you were on the right track. Snape prowled the classroom, occasionally stopping to observe or comment on various pairs’ progress. When he reached your desk, he paused, scrutinizing your work with his usual critical eye.

“Acceptable,” he murmured, giving a slight nod before moving on. It was high praise coming from Snape, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

After you and Ni-ki finished brewing the Veritaserum, you let out a quiet sigh of relief and settled back into your seat. The potion simmered gently, its translucent glow a sign of your successful collaboration. With the class winding down, you pulled out your notebook and began doodling absentmindedly, your mind drifting.

Ni-ki, meanwhile, was meticulously sorting out the remaining ingredients. You stole a quick glance at him, curiosity getting the better of you. His recently dyed light hair hung in front of his eyes, accentuating his piercing stare. Despite his cold demeanor, there was an undeniable intensity in his gaze that seemed to see right through people. His robes fit him perfectly, the black fabric contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. The Slytherin badge, neatly stitched into his robes, was complemented by the prefect badge pinned just beside it, a testament to his standing and discipline.

You had to admit, even if only to yourself, that Ni-ki looked good. There was something striking about him, an aura that was hard to ignore. But you would never voice this thought out loud. You admired him quietly, keeping your appreciation to yourself. Despite his coldness, he wasn’t like some of his fellow Slytherins who resorted to bullying and teasing. No, his crime was different—he was aloof, detached, and seemingly emotionless. He was an enigma, always keeping to himself and his close-knit group of peers.

As you doodled, you found your thoughts wandering. What was Ni-ki hiding behind that expressionless face? What would it be like to see him smile, to see his features soften with joy? Did he ever feel sadness, and if so, did he let himself cry? These questions swirled in your mind, each one deepening the mystery that was Ni-ki.

Before you could ponder further, the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor signaled the end of class. Snape’s curt dismissal barely registered as you blinked, realizing how lost in thought you had become. You looked up to find that Ni-ki had already stood up and left, leaving behind a spotless workstation. The ingredients were neatly put away, the table wiped clean. In your daydreaming, you hadn’t even noticed him tidying up.

As you left the Potions classroom, the dark and cool dungeons faded behind you, but your thoughts lingered on Ni-ki. You shook your head, trying to clear the lingering questions that kept popping up about him. It wasn’t like you cared—he was distant and cold. But the fact that he cleaned up without saying a word or asking for acknowledgment—it was almost… considerate. Strange for someone like him.

You walked down the stone corridor, heading toward the next class with Leeseo catching up to you. “How was it working with Ni-ki?” she asked, her voice light and curious.

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. “He’s efficient. Doesn’t talk much.”

Leeseo raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Efficient? That’s not the word I expected you to use.” She grinned playfully, nudging you. “You didn’t bicker, did you?”

You rolled your eyes. “We didn’t even speak much, to be honest. He just… does his part and leaves. Not much else to say.”

“Classic Ni-ki,” she mused, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of impressive that you got to work with him. He’s got a reputation, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” You kept your voice light, trying not to dwell on the fact that you had spent the better part of Potions class analyzing the guy instead of just brewing the potion. “It’s just one class though. Nothing special.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but wonder why he kept himself so closed off. There was a quiet confidence about him, yes, but also a wall that he didn’t seem to let anyone through. It made him mysterious, sure, but also frustrating. What was he hiding? Or was it just his nature, plain and simple?

Leeseo and you reached the courtyard, the cool autumn air refreshing after the confined dungeon. You tilted your head up, letting the breeze rustle through your hair, trying to shake off the distraction that Ni-ki had become in your thoughts.

“Well, he’s not bad-looking,” Leeseo added with a grin, catching you completely off guard.

You nearly choked on air, throwing her an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

She laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, you can’t deny it. He’s got that whole mysterious, brooding Slytherin thing going on. You’d be blind not to notice.”

You groaned, tugging your scarf tighter around your neck as you continued walking. “I don’t need any more distractions, thanks. We have enough on our plate with the upcoming exams and essays.” You tried to steer the conversation away, not wanting to admit that, yes, Ni-ki was ridiculously good-looking. Admiring him from afar was one thing, but beyond that? Absolutely not.

Leeseo just smiled knowingly, but thankfully, she let the topic drop as you made your way to the next class. Still, as the day went on, Ni-ki’s expressionless face, his precise movements, and the way his hair fell over his eyes refused to leave the corners of your mind.

You sighed to yourself. This was going to be harder to ignore than you thought.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It all really started one afternoon at the library when you were tucked away at your usual table near the back, surrounded by textbooks and parchment. You were completely immersed in your reading when you noticed a shadow fall across the table.

Looking up, you saw him—Nishimura Ni-ki.

Without a word, he pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down. No greeting, no explanation, just the soft sound of him placing his books on the table. He didn’t meet your eyes, didn’t acknowledge your surprised expression. Instead, he opened his own textbook and began reading, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him to sit there.

You blinked, taken aback. For a moment, you considered asking him what he was doing. After all, it wasn’t as if the library was short on tables, and Ni-ki wasn’t exactly known for being social with anyone outside of his Slytherin circle. But instead, you tried to focus on your work, convincing yourself that he’d leave soon enough.

But he didn’t.

He stayed, flipping through pages, scribbling notes in his neat, precise handwriting. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at you—just sat there, quietly doing his own work. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him, confused by his presence. Why was he here, sitting with you, of all people?

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t hold back any longer. "What are you doing?" you asked, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing Madam Pince’s ire.

He didn’t look up from his book. "Studying," he replied, his tone clipped and direct.

You raised an eyebrow. "I can see that. But why here?"

For the first time, he looked up, meeting your eyes with that same unreadable expression he always wore. "Is there a problem?" he asked calmly, his voice steady.

You hesitated. He wasn’t being rude, exactly, but the way he spoke made it clear he didn’t think he needed to explain himself. You shook your head, deciding it wasn’t worth pushing further. "No," you muttered, turning back to your own notes.

And so the pattern began.

Each time you came to the library, Ni-ki would show up not long after. Sometimes he arrived before you, already seated at the same table, as if claiming it before you could. Other times, he’d stroll in after you’d settled down, take his seat across from you, and dive into his work. He never spoke unless you asked him a direct question, and even then, his answers were always short, almost dismissive. It wasn’t that he was unkind—just distant, like there was no need for conversation.

"Why do you keep sitting here?" you asked one day, after he’d settled into the chair across from you for what felt like the hundredth time.

He didn’t even look up. "It’s quiet," he answered simply, continuing to write in his notebook.

You frowned, not satisfied with the answer. "There are other tables. You could sit anywhere else."

"True." He glanced up briefly, his eyes meeting yours before flicking back to his book. "But I’m sitting here."

That was all he said. No further explanation, no invitation for more questions. Just a simple, matter-of-fact statement that left you feeling more confused than before.

It wasn’t like he was helping you with your work, either. He didn’t offer advice, didn’t join in on any discussions about the material you were studying. He was just… there. A quiet presence that made you hyper-aware of his every movement, even though he barely acknowledged you. It was unnerving at first, but over time, you began to expect it—Ni-ki would be there, silently doing his own thing while you tried to focus on yours.

There were moments when you found yourself glancing at him more than you should have. His hair, still that light shade, would occasionally fall in front of his eyes, and he’d push it back with a practiced motion. His fingers moved with such precision as he wrote, and his posture was always so composed, like he never let himself relax fully.

And yet, despite the quiet, there was something oddly comforting about his presence. It was strange to admit, but in the silence of the library, having him across from you became… familiar. Predictable, even.

Still, the lack of interaction left you with more questions than answers. Why sit with you every time if he had no intention of talking? What was he gaining from it? Was it simply convenience, or was there something else going on that you couldn’t see?

One afternoon, after another long stretch of silent studying, you finally broke the quiet. "You don’t have to sit here, you know."

He paused, his quill hovering over the parchment. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, he seemed to consider your words. "I know," he said quietly, his voice softer than usual. "But I am."

And with that, he went back to his work, leaving you with nothing but the steady scratch of his quill and the growing confusion swirling in your mind.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the weeks passed, Ni-ki’s quiet presence at your table in the library became something you began to anticipate. It was no longer surprising when he pulled out the chair across from you, settling in without a word. At first, it had unnerved you—the silent way he occupied the space, his sharp focus on his own work, and the fact that, outside these moments, he didn’t acknowledge you at all. But now, somehow, you didn’t mind it.

In fact, you found yourself looking forward to it. His quiet company had a strange, calming effect, as if the library wasn’t truly complete without him sitting across from you. You had started to expect him there, so much so that on the rare occasions when he wasn’t, you couldn’t help but feel a little off-kilter, like something was missing from the day.

It wasn’t that the two of you had grown closer, at least not in the usual sense. He never spoke unless you asked him a direct question, and even then, his answers were brief and to the point. He offered no opinions, no conversation starters—just an occasional glance in your direction, sometimes a quiet nod. And yet, you had grown accustomed to the silence between you, a silence that felt oddly comfortable.

But the strange thing was, beyond these quiet library sessions, it was as if Ni-ki didn’t know you at all.

In classes, he barely looked your way. If he did speak to you, it was only because the lesson demanded it—when he was your partner for a potion, or during group work in Transfiguration. His responses were always curt, efficient, like he was checking off a box before returning to his own tasks. You would pass each other in the corridors, or see him in the Great Hall, always surrounded by his Slytherin friends, and it was like you didn’t exist. Not a glance, not a nod, nothing to suggest he even knew you.

It puzzled you to no end. You weren’t sure if it bothered you or just left you more curious. Why go out of his way to sit with you in the library if he had no interest in interacting with you elsewhere? It wasn’t like he needed help with his studies—Ni-ki was brilliant in his own right. And it wasn’t like you were friends, either. In fact, you had hardly spoken more than a handful of sentences to each other since you first started sharing a table.

You found yourself wondering more and more why he bothered. Why, out of all the places in Hogwarts, did he always choose the spot across from you? Why did he sit with you, week after week, without saying much of anything, only to act as if you didn’t exist the moment you left the library?

But you didn’t dare ask him. For one thing, Ni-ki was rarely alone. He was almost always surrounded by his Slytherin friends—usually fellow prefects or others from his house, most of whom carried an air of superiority that reminded you why you kept your distance from most of them. There was never a convenient moment to pull him aside, and even if there were, you couldn’t imagine what you’d say.

And then there was the other part of you, the part that didn’t exactly want to know the answer. What if it was something you didn’t want to hear? What if the reason was as simple as convenience, or worse—what if there was no reason at all? What if, to him, you were just a tablemate, nothing more?

You’d often catch yourself glancing over at him during Potions or in the Great Hall, trying to make sense of him. His friends would be laughing or talking among themselves, and there Ni-ki would be, sitting quietly, his expression unreadable, completely detached from whatever conversation was happening around him. You wondered if he was the same with them—distant, aloof, only speaking when necessary.

Sometimes you’d catch his eye, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something—maybe recognition, maybe nothing at all. But then, he’d look away, and the moment would pass as quickly as it came.

It became a kind of ritual—this quiet routine in the library, these fleeting moments of wondering. You couldn’t deny the growing curiosity, though. Why did he choose you, out of everyone he could have sat with? And why did it seem like he was perfectly fine with just… existing alongside you, never crossing the invisible line that separated the two of you?

You wished you had the courage to ask him. But each time you considered it, you reminded yourself of who he was—Nishimura Ni-ki, Slytherin prefect, sharp-tongued and unreadable. He wasn’t someone you could just ask a simple, casual question and expect an answer that wouldn’t make you regret it.

And besides, maybe it was better this way—better to leave the mystery unsolved than to shatter the quiet routine you had somehow built with him.

Even your friends began to notice. Leeseo had raised her eyebrows the first time she saw Ni-ki sitting with you in the library, but she hadn’t said anything beyond the occasional teasing. “Your silent study buddy’s here again,” she’d say with a wink when she caught him at the table. “You two make quite the pair.”

You always brushed it off, rolling your eyes at her remarks. But deep down, a part of you wondered if she saw something you were missing. Was there more to Ni-ki’s presence than what you had convinced yourself to believe?

It was during one of those quiet afternoons, with parchment spread across the table and the soft scratch of your quill filling the silence, that you found yourself thinking about it more than usual. Why, out of all the students at Hogwarts, did he choose to sit with you? Surely, he had plenty of friends or places he could have gone. And more importantly, why did he never talk to you outside of the library?

Your eyes flicked up to Ni-ki, who was seated across from you as usual, engrossed in a large, ancient-looking tome. His light hair fell over his forehead, slightly tousled from the breeze outside. He looked calm, composed, and completely at ease, as if this had been his routine for years.

A question hovered on the tip of your tongue, one you had been pushing aside for weeks now. But before you could find the courage to ask, Ni-ki suddenly closed his book with a soft thud. You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, and he stood up, gathering his things with that same quiet precision.

He looked at you, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours. For a second, you thought he might say something, but instead, he gave a slight nod—his usual, silent goodbye. Without a word, he turned and left the library, his footsteps soft against the stone floor.

You watched him go, feeling that familiar, quiet emptiness settle in his absence.

What you didn’t know was that, in Ni-ki’s mind, a storm was brewing. A quiet turmoil, hidden beneath his calm exterior, had begun to take shape, and it was all because of you. He had always prided himself on his ability to maintain focus, to keep his thoughts clear and his goals straightforward. But lately, you had become an unexpected variable in his otherwise predictable life.

At first, he had taken little notice of you. You were just another student, one among many who populated Hogwarts. But then, slowly but surely, that indifference had shifted to something else—curiosity. He began to notice the way your brow furrowed in concentration when you studied, the way your lips would curve into a small smile when you finally grasped a particularly tricky concept. There was something intriguing about your determination, something that pulled at the edges of his awareness.

As he continued to share those quiet moments in the library with you, he found himself observing you more intently. He noticed the small things: how you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought, how your expressions shifted subtly as you worked through problems. You were a puzzle he hadn’t expected to encounter, and with each encounter, the mystery deepened.

But it didn’t stop there. What began as a mild curiosity morphed into confusion. Ni-ki couldn’t quite articulate it, but there was something compelling about you—something that made you linger in his thoughts long after he had left the library. Why did your laughter echo in his mind? Why did he find himself glancing in your direction during meals, seeking you out in the crowded Great Hall, even when he was surrounded by his friends?

It was disconcerting, to say the least. He was known for his stoic demeanor, for being the type of person who kept his emotions in check. Yet, here he was, caught in an unyielding tide of thoughts about someone he had initially dismissed. It was frustrating, and a little alarming. He was supposed to be focused on his studies, on his role as a prefect, on maintaining the reputation he had carefully crafted. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that there was something deeper to explore with you?

Every time you caught his gaze across the Great Hall or shared a fleeting moment in the library, the storm would build inside him—curiosity colliding with confusion, a need to understand you battling against the fear of opening up. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if this was all one-sided, and he was just a distant presence in your life? The idea sent a jolt of uncertainty through him.

Ni-ki’s friends began to notice his distraction. They would tease him about how often he seemed to lose focus, how he would sometimes pause mid-conversation, his eyes drifting off to the side as if searching for something—or someone. But he brushed their remarks aside, masking his inner conflict with indifference.

He found himself wrestling with a mounting desire to approach you, to understand the enigma you represented. But every time he would gather the courage to break that silence, to say something more than the necessary exchanges during class, he hesitated. The distance between you felt both comforting and suffocating.

It was a confusing dichotomy, and Ni-ki was left to navigate his own feelings in silence, unsure of where this newfound intrigue would lead him. All he knew was that every time he sat in front of you in the library, the storm inside him would shift—pushing him closer to the edge of wanting to reach out, even as fear held him back.

He didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t know why he kept coming back, why he couldn’t stay away, even though he knew that sitting there, in silence, only made things more complicated.

But he couldn’t stop. And he didn’t want to. He just needed to figure out how.

--------------------------------------------------------------

It started gradually, almost imperceptibly. The silence between you and Ni-ki began to shift, not in any overt way but in small moments that made it feel… less heavy. The library sessions continued as they always had, with Ni-ki sitting across from you, his head bent over his books, while you quietly worked on your own assignments. But there were times now when you found yourself speaking.

It started off with casual remarks. Maybe it was the stress of exams or the overwhelming workload that had you venting aloud, but Ni-ki never seemed bothered by it. He didn’t offer much in return—just a short nod or a quiet hum of acknowledgment—but he listened.

One evening, after a particularly difficult day, you couldn’t hold back anymore. "I just don’t get it," you muttered, staring at your Transfiguration textbook in frustration. "No matter how much I study, I can’t seem to get this right. And McGonagall keeps assigning more complex material like it’s nothing."

Ni-ki looked up, his eyes flicking to the page you were stuck on before settling back on your frustrated expression. He didn’t say anything, just kept watching you with that same quiet intensity you had grown used to.

"And," you continued, feeling a strange comfort in speaking your thoughts aloud to him, "there’s this Slytherin who won’t stop picking on me. Every time I pass by them, it’s like they have to make some snide comment or knock my bag off my shoulder. It’s ridiculous." You sighed, shaking your head. "But I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes."

Ni-ki’s eyes darkened slightly at your words, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. You didn’t expect a response; you were just letting off steam. Somehow, Ni-ki’s silent presence always made it easier to say the things that were weighing on you. You could talk to him without fear of judgment or interruption. He just listened, and that was enough.

The next day, something changed. The Slytherin student who had made it their mission to irritate you suddenly stopped. They no longer sneered at you in the halls, no longer made rude remarks or tried to provoke you. In fact, they seemed to go out of their way to avoid you altogether. You didn’t understand why, but you weren’t about to complain.

And then, there was the folder. It appeared during one of your classes, a neatly organized folder filled with notes on every subject you had been struggling with. The handwriting was unmistakable—precise, clean, and undeniably Ni-ki’s. The notes were thorough, covering all the topics you had mentioned having trouble with. It was as if he had gone out of his way to compile everything you needed to help you catch up.

You didn’t know how to react at first. Gratitude and surprise warred within you as you thumbed through the pages, recognizing the meticulous effort that had gone into writing them. Ni-ki hadn’t said a word about it, hadn’t even hinted that he was going to help you like this. He had just quietly, and without fanfare, made sure you had everything you needed.

The next time you saw him in the library, you didn’t hesitate to thank him.

"Ni-ki," you began softly, looking up from your books to meet his gaze. His head lifted slightly, acknowledging that he was listening. "Thank you—for the notes." Your voice was sincere, full of the appreciation you felt. "I really didn’t expect it, but it helped a lot."

He didn’t say anything in return. He just nodded once, his face remaining as impassive as ever, as if this grand gesture was nothing out of the ordinary. For Ni-ki, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was just how he operated—helping silently, without drawing attention to it, without expecting anything in return.

But for you, it meant something. A lot, actually. It was a reminder that beneath Ni-ki’s cold exterior, there was more to him than he let on. His actions spoke louder than any words could, and though he kept his distance in almost every other part of your life, in these quiet moments, he was closer than anyone.

And so, you didn’t ask what had happened with the Slytherin who had suddenly stopped bothering you. You didn’t ask why Ni-ki had gone through the trouble of writing those notes for you or why he had stayed by your side all this time in the library. Because somehow, you knew. This was just Ni-ki’s way—silent, unspoken care hidden behind his cool exterior.

And that was enough for now.

One evening, during one of your usual study sessions in the library, you were stuck. The upcoming exam loomed over you, and no matter how many times you read the same question, the answer refused to reveal itself. You sat there in silence, frustration building as you stared blankly at the page in front of you.

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of parchment and soft footsteps in the distance. Ni-ki sat across from you, as usual, his head bent over his own work. The silence between you two was comfortable by now, and you didn’t expect it to be broken anytime soon. You sighed, trying to push through the mental block that had settled over you.

Then, you heard movement—a soft rustling. Glancing up, you saw Ni-ki standing. For a moment, you thought he was leaving, and disappointment bloomed unexpectedly in your chest. You looked back down, resigned to continuing your struggle alone, but then something surprising happened.

You felt the faint shift of air and the quiet creak of the wooden bench, startled, you turned your head and found him sitting right next to you. His presence was closer than it had ever been during these sessions, and it made your heart race for reasons you didn’t entirely understand.

"Where are you stuck?" Ni-ki asked, his voice soft but clear. There was no trace of his usual distance, just a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.

Blinking, still mildly in shock from the sudden change in his behavior, you pointed at the question that had been giving you trouble. You half-expected him to glance at it, make some passing comment, and return to his seat. But instead, Ni-ki leaned in slightly, examining the material with a focused expression.

He began speaking, his voice calm and smooth as he explained the concept in clear, concise terms. There was a quiet assurance in the way he spoke, his words precise and easy to follow. He wasn’t just repeating the textbook either—he was breaking it down in a way that made it understandable, relatable even. You listened closely, hanging onto each word, and slowly, like fog lifting from your mind, the confusion began to clear.

With each sentence Ni-ki uttered, the material started to make sense. What had seemed impossible moments before was now manageable, the concepts clicking together as he guided you through the steps. His voice had a soothing quality to it, calm and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to sit with you and explain.

You found yourself glancing at him occasionally, taking in the way his eyes stayed fixed on the book, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he worked through the material with you. There was something unexpectedly gentle about the way he spoke, something that contrasted with the cold, distant persona he usually kept up. And in this moment, sitting side by side in the dim light of the library, it was hard to remember why you had ever thought of him as distant at all.

When he finished explaining, you stared at the page for a moment, absorbing the new understanding. It felt like a weight had lifted, and for the first time in hours, you felt a surge of confidence that maybe—just maybe—you could actually manage this exam.

"Does that make sense now?" Ni-ki asked, his voice still soft.

You nodded, almost dazed. "Yeah… it does. Thanks."

He didn’t say anything in response, just gave a small, barely noticeable nod before settling back into his seat, returning to his own work as if nothing unusual had happened.

But something had shifted between you. You weren’t sure what it was exactly, but the air felt different now—less like the quiet companionship you had grown used to and more like… something else. Something unspoken.

You sat there for a few moments longer, still processing both the study material and the fact that Ni-ki had just sat next to you, helped you. He hadn’t done it begrudgingly either; he had simply done it because you needed help. And his presence, his voice, had made all the difference.

As you returned to your notes, you couldn’t help but glance at him again, wondering what other sides of Ni-ki lay hidden beneath the surface.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

One evening, after hours of studying and flipping through books, you found yourself exhausted. Your eyes were burning from reading the same passage over and over, and you sighed loudly, resting your head on the table. Ni-ki glanced up from his work, giving you a quizzical look.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, almost concerned.

You nodded, not lifting your head. “Yeah. Between Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology, I feel like my brain is going to melt.”

There was a pause before you heard him shifting in his seat. “Potions is your weakest subject, right?”

You looked up, blinking in surprise. It wasn’t like Ni-ki to make small talk, and the fact that he remembered your struggles in Potions caught you off guard.

“Yeah,” you admitted, sitting up straighter. “It just doesn’t click for me like other subjects do.”

Ni-ki seemed to consider this for a moment before responding, “I used to be terrible at Potions too. In second year, I once brewed a Sleeping Draught that knocked out half the class. Snape wasn’t pleased.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping you. “No way! You, bad at Potions? I can’t believe it.”

“Everyone starts somewhere.”

Another time, while working on your Charms essay, you noticed Ni-ki was unusually quiet—even for him. He wasn’t reading or writing, just sitting there, staring at his open textbook with an intense focus that seemed off.

You hesitated before asking, “Are you okay? You seem… distracted.”

He didn’t look up at first, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the table. “I’m fine,” he said, but his tone lacked its usual confidence.

You waited, sensing that he wasn’t fine at all. After a long moment of silence, Ni-ki finally spoke again, quieter this time. “I’m… just thinking about some things. It’s nothing important.”

You could tell that was a lie. He was always so composed, so in control of his emotions, that seeing him unsettled was strange. But you didn’t push him. Instead, you offered something simple.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Ni-ki glanced at you, his expression softening just a little. He didn’t say anything, but the small nod he gave you felt like a thank you.

Another late night, the library was almost empty, save for you and Ni-ki at your usual spot. You had been studying for hours, and exhaustion was starting to settle in. You stretched, groaning as you reached for your quill.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you muttered. “My brain is fried.”

Ni-ki glanced up from his book, closing it with a quiet snap. “Take a break.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the suggestion. “You? Telling me to take a break? What’s gotten into you?”

“Even I take breaks sometimes.”

Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’ve never seen it.”

Instead of responding, Ni-ki stood up and stretched, motioning for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s walk around for a few minutes.”

Confused but curious, you followed him out of the library and into the cool night air. The two of you walked in silence for a while, the soft breeze helping to clear your mind. After a few minutes, Ni-ki broke the silence.

“You push yourself too hard sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the observation. “You’re one to talk.”

He shrugged “Maybe. But I know when to stop.”

But perhaps the most unexpected moment came one late afternoon, as you both sat in the library, quietly working on your respective assignments. You were in a lighter mood that day, having finally finished an essay that had been plaguing you for weeks. Feeling more relaxed, you absentmindedly began talking about the ridiculous antics of a few fellow students during Herbology, mimicking the professor's reactions with exaggerated gestures and voices.

Ni-ki, as usual, didn’t say much, just listened with his usual calm expression. But then, something shifted. When you imitated Professor Sprout tripping over a Mandrake root, you caught it—the faintest twitch of his lips. At first, you thought you had imagined it, but then it happened again. His lips curved up into a small smile, and for a brief moment, Ni-ki’s usually composed face broke into something entirely different.

You froze mid-sentence, staring at him in shock. Ni-ki—quiet, serious, and often unreadable—was smiling. Not just a polite smile, but a genuine one, and you could see a glint of amusement in his dark eyes.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed your stunned expression.

“I… I didn’t know you could smile,” you blurted out, completely forgetting your earlier train of thought.

Ni-ki’s smile widened, and then, to your utter disbelief, a soft chuckle escaped him. It was quiet and brief, but it was there—a real laugh. And suddenly, the cold, distant image you had of him cracked just a little more, revealing something warmer, something softer beneath the surface.

He quickly composed himself, the smile fading but not disappearing entirely. “I’m not a statue,” he said dryly, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that you had never seen before.

“I mean, I guess I just assumed…” you trailed off, still processing the fact that you had just witnessed Ni-ki laugh.

And then, with a small smile still playing at the corners of his lips, Ni-ki returned to his work, leaving you to sit there.

But one of the most memorable moments between you happened during a study session where, for once, things were going smoothly. You were both focused on your work when a random thought popped into your head, and without thinking, you said it aloud.

“Do you think Professor McGonagall’s animagus form ever accidentally knocks things off tables like a real cat?”

Ni-ki looked up at you, clearly confused. “What?”

You laughed, suddenly realizing how ridiculous the thought sounded. “I mean, she’s a cat, right? What if she just can’t help herself and bats things off desks?”

For a moment, Ni-ki just stared at you, and you thought he was going to tell you off for not focusing. But then, to your utter shock, he started laughing—a real, genuine laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it was pure, and the sound of it made your heart skip a beat.

“Why would you even think of that?” he asked, still chuckling.

You shrugged, grinning. “I don’t know. It just popped into my head.”

Ni-ki shook his head, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

But there was no malice in his words, only a warmth that hadn’t been there before. And in that moment, you realized just how much closer the two of you had become. And seeing him laugh—really laugh—was something you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

----------------------------------------

It was a quiet afternoon when it happened. You had just finished another study session in the library with Ni-ki. He had helped you with a particularly difficult problem, and though he was his usual quiet self, you had left feeling a sense of warmth—like things between you were truly starting to shift. Maybe Ni-ki didn’t always show it in public, but you were sure he valued your time together, even if it was mostly in the library.

However, as you made your way through the corridors, feeling content from the productive session, a group of girls—Ni-ki’s admirers, if you were honest—blocked your path. Their expressions weren’t friendly, and you could tell right away that something was off.

Before you could say anything, they pushed you into an empty classroom, closing the door behind you. The leader of the group, a girl you recognized as one of Ni-ki’s more obsessive followers, crossed her arms, sneering.

“So,” she began, voice dripping with disdain, “you think you're special, huh? Just because you spend time with Ni-ki in the library?”

You froze, your heart pounding. You didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at them, trying to keep calm.

“Do you actually believe he cares about you?” another one chimed in. “He’s just too polite to tell you to leave him alone.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but the leader cut you off. “Oh, please. He pities you. You should hear the things people say. They’re always wondering why he wastes his time on someone like you.”

Her words hit hard, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “That’s not true. He helps me because he—”

“Because he what?” she interrupted with a cruel laugh. “Because he likes you? Don’t be stupid. He only tolerates you. He never talks to you outside the library, does he?”

That made you pause. It was true—Ni-ki never approached you in the halls, never spoke to you outside of your library sessions. He barely acknowledged you in class unless it was absolutely necessary. Even when you saw him with his friends, he acted as if you didn’t exist.

They could see the doubt in your eyes, and the girl smirked, sensing victory. “See? You know it’s true. If he really liked you, why would he act like you don’t exist when you’re not sitting across from him in the library?”

You stayed silent, unable to find an answer. The doubts they were planting in your mind started to grow roots, wrapping around your thoughts and pulling you into a spiral of overthinking.

“He probably thinks you’re a burden,” one of the girls said with a mocking laugh. “I mean, why else would he avoid you in front of his friends? He doesn’t want them to see him hanging out with someone like you.”

The words stung, each one cutting deeper than the last. You tried to fight back, tried to tell yourself that Ni-ki’s quiet nature didn’t mean he didn’t care, but their accusations fed into your worst fears. What if you really were just a burden to him? What if he did pity you, and that’s why he never spoke to you outside of your study sessions?

You kept quiet, and they could see they had hit their mark.

“Face it,” the leader said, stepping closer with a satisfied smirk. “Ni-ki feels sorry for you. You’re nothing to him.”

You bit your lip, holding back the sting of tears. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but the words had already wormed their way into your head. Why did he only talk to you in the library? Why didn’t he ever approach you outside of that space? You thought you had gotten closer to him, but maybe you had been wrong all along.

They left you there in the empty classroom, their mocking laughter echoing in the halls as they disappeared. You stood frozen in place, your thoughts swirling with doubt and confusion, questioning everything you thought you knew about Ni-ki and your growing connection with him.

That one question kept repeating in your mind: Why didn’t he talk to you outside of the library?

After that confrontation in the empty classroom, you couldn’t shake the words that had been thrown at you. The girls' taunts, the doubts they had planted in your mind—they echoed endlessly, gnawing at your thoughts and twisting everything you thought you knew about your relationship with Ni-ki. Every time you walked through the halls, you felt a strange weight on your chest.

You began to pull away, slowly at first. It started with cutting your library sessions shorter. Where once you might have lingered for hours, speaking to Ni-ki about anything and everything, now you found yourself packing up your things earlier, offering hurried excuses about homework or other commitments. Ni-ki would glance at you but never say much, and his silence only added to your doubts. It was almost like he didn’t notice your growing distance, or maybe, you thought bitterly, he didn’t care enough to ask.

The distance grew wider as the days passed. You started skipping your library sessions altogether, avoiding the places you knew Ni-ki would be. The once-familiar space where the two of you had shared quiet moments now felt like a weight, a place filled with uncertainty and confusion. You didn’t know what to make of your feelings, or of Ni-ki’s. Were you really just a burden to him? Did he pity you, as they had said?

It hurt too much to face him, so you stopped trying.

In the hallways, you could feel his gaze on you. Even if you weren’t looking, you knew when Ni-ki was nearby. It was as if some invisible thread still tied the two of you together, but now it felt frayed and fragile, a connection you didn’t know how to mend. You passed by him in the corridors, your head down, avoiding his eyes at all costs. In the Great Hall, you chose seats far away from where he and his Slytherin friends sat. But somehow, it didn’t matter. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, his gaze following your every move, and each time, it sent a wave of guilt crashing over you.

You never looked back at him, though. You couldn’t.

You skipped classes you shared with him. It started with one or two missed lectures, but eventually, it became a pattern. Without him, you struggled, barely scraping by with borrowed notes from friends. They weren’t as clear or detailed as Ni-ki’s notes, but they would have to do. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for help again.

Despite all your attempts to avoid him, Ni-ki’s presence lingered everywhere. You didn’t know if it was your mind playing tricks on you, or if he really was watching you more closely now. Whatever it was, you felt more conflicted than ever. You wondered if he noticed your absence, if he cared, but then that gnawing insecurity crept back in, reminding you of what those girls had said. He’s just too polite to tell you to leave him alone.

The more you thought about it, the more you withdrew. Doubts clouded every memory of your time with Ni-ki, twisting your perception of everything he’d done for you—the notes, the help with your studies, the quiet moments you’d shared. What if it had all been one-sided? What if you had been nothing more than a project, a pity case?

And so, you kept your distance, avoiding the boy whose piercing gaze you could no longer bear to meet, and wondering if maybe, in the end, they had been right all along.

-----------------------------------------

You had been so lost in your thoughts, your mind circling around the same questions, the same doubts, that you didn’t even realize where your feet were taking you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you noticed the dim, cold lighting of the dungeons, the walls lined with stone, and the distant murmur of voices. You froze, recognizing how close you were to the Slytherin dorms.

Instinctively, you were about to turn and head back the way you came when the sound of laughter caught your attention. It was light, warm, and carefree—a sound that felt almost foreign in this part of the castle. Curious, despite yourself, you peeked around the corner.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Standing there, casually leaning against the wall, was Ni-ki. His head was tilted slightly back, his face scrunched up in genuine amusement, his white teeth flashing in a wide grin. He was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the edges, his normally stoic expression completely replaced by something so light and happy that it shocked you. You had never seen him like this before. His laugh, his smile. It made him seem younger, softer, almost…adorable. For a moment, you were completely transfixed, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

But then, your eyes flickered to the people surrounding him. His friends—other Slytherins you recognized—were standing nearby, laughing along with him. Among them, you spotted a few of the girls who had cornered you in the empty classroom, their cruel words still echoing in your mind. The sight of them, standing so close to Ni-ki, chatting and laughing as if everything was normal, sent a jolt of discomfort through you.

And then, before you could react, one of Ni-ki’s friends noticed you. His expression shifted slightly as he leaned in to whisper something in Ni-ki’s ear.

Ni-ki turned.

Your heart dropped.

His gaze locked onto yours from across the hallway, his laughter fading instantly. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a gasp escaping your lips as you quickly turned on your heel and speed-walked down the hallway, trying to put as much distance between yourself and that scene as possible.

Your heart was pounding, your thoughts racing. He was laughing with them. With those girls… The image of his bright smile, so carefree, so natural, was seared into your mind, but it was tainted now by the memory of the people surrounding him—the people who had made you doubt everything.

Had he heard what they said? Did he know?

You didn’t wait to find out. All you knew was that you needed to get as far away from the dungeons, and from Ni-ki, as quickly as possible.

You didn’t exactly know how you ended up in the library, but here you were, tucked away in a quiet, hidden corner that no one ever really bothered with. It was your place, somewhere you used to come to study, or more recently, to avoid. The shelves towered above you, enclosing you in their safe, comforting silence, but it did little to ease the heavy weight in your chest.

Wiping away the stray tears that had already started to fall, you slid down to the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest. Your bag dropped beside you with a soft thud, the books spilling out carelessly, but you didn’t bother to pick them up. It felt like too much effort, like you couldn’t muster the energy to do anything but curl in on yourself.

Tears fell freely now, and you buried your face in your arms, trying to muffle the soft sobs that escaped. Everything had just… built up. The confusion, the distance, the hurt from what Ni-ki’s admirers had said, and now seeing him so happy without you. You had tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that he was just a library acquaintance, but the truth was that it did matter. More than you wanted to admit.

The quiet of the library felt like it was pressing down on you, suffocating in its stillness, yet at the same time, it was the only place where you could let go like this. Where no one would see you, no one would ask questions, and no one would tell you that you were being silly for feeling this way.

You cried softly, the hurt you’d been bottling up for so long finally breaking free. The words of those girls echoed in your mind, their sneering voices telling you that Ni-ki pitied you, that he didn’t care, that you were nothing to him. The worst part was that you had started to believe it.

The image of Ni-ki laughing with his friends flashed before your eyes again, and it only deepened the ache in your chest. He seemed so happy, so… distant. And you? You were nothing but a fading presence, something he could ignore outside of your shared library sessions. You had convinced yourself that maybe you had become friends, maybe there was something more, but now, it all felt like a lie.

The sobs came harder now, your chest tightening painfully as you curled further into yourself. You didn’t want to care this much. You didn’t want to feel this way. But here you were, hiding in the shadows of the library, crying over someone you weren’t even sure cared about you at all.

The quiet shuffling beside you broke through your tears, making you look up from your curled position. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Ni-ki standing right there, holding your bag in his hand, his face full of worry. His usually composed expression was soft, eyebrows knitted together as he searched your face.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

You sniffled, quickly wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve and nodding, though your heart wasn’t in the gesture. You looked away, half-expecting him to leave like always, to walk away and give you space. But instead, you heard him set his bag down. You glanced at him, shocked, as he sat beside you on the floor.

Ni-ki leaned back against the shelves, closing his eyes for a moment before sighing deeply. "I know you’ve been avoiding me," he said, his voice softer than usual, yet it held a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing from him. He opened his eyes, looking directly at you, and asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

You sat up, startled by his question. "What? No, no, of course you didn’t!" you answered quickly, panic rising in your chest.

He tilted his head slightly, clearly unconvinced. "Then why…" His words trailed off as he sighed again. He looked at you, his expression filled with something close to concern. "Please… tell me. I’m worried about you," he admitted, his voice quiet.

His words made your heart clench. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made it harder to stay quiet. You gulped, trying to steady yourself. This was the moment you had been dreading. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to say the words that had been haunting you since that confrontation. But seeing him here, sitting beside you, waiting for an explanation—it was enough to make you break.

"I…" You began, your voice shaky. "It’s not you, Ni-ki, really. You didn’t do anything wrong." You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. "Some girls… they confronted me, said that you pitied me. That you thought I was a burden… and it got in my head. They asked why you never talk to me outside the library, and… I started wondering if they were right."

Ni-ki’s expression shifted immediately, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What? Why would they say that?"

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. "They said I was stupid for even thinking we were friends… that I didn’t matter to you outside of studying."

There was a long pause, the silence hanging heavily between you. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, too afraid of what you might see in his eyes. But then, after what felt like an eternity, Ni-ki’s voice broke the silence.

"That’s not true," he said quietly, his tone firm but gentle. "You’re not a burden. I don’t pity you."

You slowly looked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. His usual calm exterior was gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

"I didn’t know you felt like that," Ni-ki continued, his voice soft. "I… I just didn’t think you’d want to hang out with me outside the library. I didn’t think I was someone you’d want to be around like that."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "What? But… you’re always surrounded by people. Why would you think that?"

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, people, not friends. Most of them just see me as Ni-ki, the Slytherin prefect or whatever. I don’t… I don’t let people in easily. But you…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "I guess I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed your company until you started avoiding me."

His words made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth amidst all the confusion and hurt.

"I’m sorry," you whispered. "I didn’t mean to make assumptions or push you away. I just… I didn’t know what to think."

Ni-ki shook his head, his gaze softening. "It’s okay. I should’ve been more clear with you." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I want you to know… I don’t just think of you as someone I study with. I…" He trailed off again, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. He looked vulnerable, in a way you had never seen before.

"I care about you," he finally said, the words slow and deliberate, as if he had been holding onto them for a long time. "More than you think."

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at him, unsure of how to respond. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you—it made your chest tighten in a way that was both overwhelming and comforting.

"I…" you started, your voice faltering. You didn’t know what to say, how to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

But you didn’t have to say anything, because in that moment, Ni-ki smiled at you—genuinely smiled, the corners of his lips turning up, his eyes softening. It was a small, almost shy smile, but it was enough to make you realize that everything you had been overthinking, all the doubts and insecurities, had been for nothing.

Ni-ki cared. He had always cared.

Ni-ki stayed by your side, his presence steady and comforting as you finally let the weight of everything spill out. You told him about the girls, your voice shaky at first, but as you continued, you felt lighter, as though every word lifted a little bit of the burden off your chest. His expression shifted the moment you named them, his brows drawing together in a way you’d never seen before—serious, almost dangerous.

For a moment, you worried that he might storm off, that his calm demeanor would crack and he’d go after them. But instead, he simply listened, his face tight with restrained anger, and when you finished, he surprised you once again.

He opened his arms.

Without a second thought, you slid into his embrace, feeling his warmth surround you, his arms wrapping securely around your back. His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled—a real, genuine smile.

"They were wrong," he murmured softly, his voice vibrating through his chest. "You mean so much more to me than they could ever understand."

You felt your heart swell at his words, the knot in your stomach slowly unraveling. He didn’t hate you. He never had.

When you finally pulled back from the hug, your gaze met his, and the intensity of his eyes made your breath hitch. His face was still close, his cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he paused, swallowing nervously.

"I…" he began, his voice a little shaky. "I need to tell you something." His eyes darted away for a moment before finding yours again, determination setting in. "I’ve been… thinking about this for a while, and I just—" He sighed, clearly flustered. "I don’t know how to say it."

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. Ni-ki, the calm, collected boy who never seemed to let anything rattle him, was stuttering and blushing, his usual composure unraveling before your eyes.

"I-I like you," he blurted out, his face now fully red. "A lot. I have for a while, but I didn’t know how to say it. I’m not good at this stuff, and I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but when you started avoiding me, I—"

He was rambling now, his words spilling out in a rush, and you could tell he was struggling to keep up with his own thoughts. It was so unlike him, seeing him this vulnerable, this unsure. It was endearing.

Before he could continue, you acted on impulse, reaching up to gently cup his face and pulling him toward you. His eyes widened in surprise just before your lips met his.

For a split second, you could feel his shock, his body freezing beneath your touch. But then, just as quickly, he melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, pulling you closer. His lips were soft, hesitant at first, but then the kiss deepened, his movements growing more sure, more confident. He held you like you were something precious, something he didn’t want to let go of.

The world seemed to disappear around you, the weight of everything that had been bothering you fading away in the warmth of his embrace. It was just you and Ni-ki, the soft press of his lips against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you realized.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, your face warm from the intensity of the moment. Ni-ki stared at you, his lips slightly parted, still processing what had just happened.

"I… uh…" He blinked, his usual calm demeanor shattered, and it made you smile.

"That was your way of saying you like me too, huh?" he asked with a sheepish grin, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

You laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah… I like you too, Ni-ki."

His smile widened, this time filled with a mixture of relief and happiness. "I’m glad," he said softly, his voice warm and full of sincerity.

For a moment, you both just sat there, basking in the newfound closeness, the tension that had been between you for weeks dissolving into something sweet, something real.

"Let’s forget about those girls," he murmured after a while, his forehead resting gently against yours. "They don’t know what they’re talking about. All that matters is you and me, okay?"

You nodded, your heart full. "Okay."

#enhypen fic #enhypen #enhypen niki #niki x reader #ni ki x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen riki #fanfiction #riki x reader #niki fluff #niki imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines

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princessbellecerise · 6 months ago

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Husband Jacaerys

Summary ✩ Headcanons about married life with Jace

Warnings ✩ Mentions of pregnancy, smut

Masterlist

SFW

First of all, can we all just agree that Jace is absolutely obsessed with you?

You will never find another man in Westeros more loyal to you than your Lord husband, who practically kisses the ground you walk on

From the day you met to the day you said your vows, Jace is the most doting husband, always listening to you and showering you with affection

Especially with kisses, on your forehead specifically

One of his favorite night time routines is to pull you to his chest, placing a kiss to your forehead before you go to sleep

And speaking of sleep, Jace is SUCH a big cuddler

He loves being your big spoon, just holding you against his chest and keeping you warm. It makes him feel good knowing he’s there to protect you at any given moment

On the days that he has to attend meetings or engage in court, he misses you so much <3 He’s such a simp that literally everyone knows that he’s down bad for you

Daemon will often tease him every time he catches Jace blanking out in meetings, knowing he’s thinking of you

Luke will gag every time Jace kisses you in public, teasing his brother about being whipped for his wife

And every time Jace will go redder than Caraxes, but honestly he doesn’t mind. He’s never afraid to be seeing loving you

When you’re pregnant or when you have kids, he’s so protective over them and you

He loves kissing your belly, admiring how you’re swollen with his children

If needed, Jace will even rub your feet or your back if they’re hurting during your pregnancy. You always tell him that he doesn’t have to, but he insists on making you as comfortable as possible

If you need anything, your husband is quick to get it for you

Even if it’s the middle of the night and you’re craving something like goat cheese and olives then never fear, cause Jace will have it delivered before you can even finish the words

When your children are born, he’s in awe over how perfect they are and he’s literally the best Kepa ever

He’s adamant on teaching his children High Valaryion and how to become dragon riders. As soon as they’re old enough, he’ll take them on Vermax for their first flight and relish in the way they laugh as they cling to him

And of course, he loves riding with you as well

Even if you have your own dragon, Jace prefers going together, loving the way your face lights up as you soar though the clouds

Life as a prince/King can be extremely stressful, so Jace always looks forward to decompressing with you at the end of the day

Taking baths together and just sitting in the warm water talking to you is his favorite

He loves running his hands over your naked body, feeling every crevice as you sit on lap, back to his chest

With you, Jace never feels like he has to pretend and he’s always at his most relaxed

He’s also very vulnerable with you, and you are pretty much the only one that he’ll talk to about his worries and fears

Overall, he’s a very guarded person so the fact that he lets his walls down for you is a sign of just how much he loves you

No matter what, just know that you 100% lucked out and that with Jace, you will always have someone there to love and protect you

NSFW

Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how much Prince Jacaerys loved his wife. The Prince was soft and loving towards you in public, and in the bedroom…

Well, just ask an unlucky handmaiden or the guard stationed outside of your room and they’ll tell you: Prince Jacaerys is almost never not making love to you

One of his favorite feelings in the world is to have you wrapped around his cock, underneath him as he fucks you slow and passionately

Deep, messy kisses full of tongue and desperatation are his absolute favorite while he’s rutting into you

Your husband 100% whimpers every time he cums, needing so desperately to fill you with his seed that it’s almost primal

Missionary or mating press are his favorite positions for this very reason, because he loves getting you pregnant

There’s just something about knowing that you’re carrying his heir, his seed and his legacy that lights a fire inside of him

He often times find himself getting lost in the desire to breed you, and afterwards he stays sheathed inside to the hilt so not a single drop can go to waste

But don’t get mistaken; Jace, like any other man, also loves taking you from behind

And more than that, he loves eating your cunt from behind, face messy with slick while he eagerly sucks on your clit

Jace firmly believes that if his wife hasn’t had her fill of pleasure then he doesn’t get to cum

For that very reason, you’re always overstimulated by the time he finally slips inside of you, the pretty little ring of cum that appears around his cock like a badge of honor for Jace <3

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd smut #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut

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inlovewithpandora · 30 days ago

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⋆｡°✩ — His Favorite Fantasy ᝰ A Rafe Cameron Christmas Special

Lyrics — Rafe’s been begging to introduce roleplay into your sex life, and you’ve been brushing him off—until now. When he comes home from a long trip, you surprise him in a sexy maid costume, turning his wildest fantasy into reality. Christmas came early, and so will he when you’re done with him.

Music Advisory — roleplay [reader is a sexy maid], a little smutty [brief handjob/blowjob], very suggestive ending, s4!rafe coded, business man!rafe

Duration — 3k words

Words from Artist — Happy Christmas Eve Everyone! I wanted to write a fun and smutty holiday fic for Rafe and this is the concept I came up with! As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — main m.list��obx taglist・navigation

Rafe has been dropping hints for months— lingering looks, teasing remarks, and casual comments that made it clear about what he wanted. The Kook prince has been wanting to experiment in the bedroom for a while, bringing a new spice to your sexual relationship by having a role-play session. It’s been on his mind for a while and he wasn’t shy of letting his fantasies be known.

It started out as a joke—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. One of Rafe’s usual throwaway, flirty remarks—the type that always made you roll your eyes and mutter a soft, “You’re crazy, Rafe,” as you gave him a playful shove. But your slightly dismissive attitude never stopped him. If anything, it only encouraged him to bring the idea up more.

Over breakfast, during your lazy afternoons at home, when you both are partying at the boneyard, even during your late night phone calls. No matter the setting, whenever the thought of you in a slutty little costume, showing off the assets you were blessed with, he speaks his mind.

Like that time a few weeks ago, when you were cooking dinner. You’d been on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab an ingredient from a high shelf, Rafe walked up behind you, pressing his chest against your back, and his arm stretching past yours as he helped you reach what you were looking for. “Y’know,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “you’d look so sexy in one of those little outfits. All short ‘n tight, wearin’ one of those skimpy skirts.”

“Rafe!” you’d hiss, fighting a tight lipped smile while your cheeks burn from his flirty comment. You stepped out of his grasp and swatted his arm like you usually do when he brings up the idea of you dressing up for him.

"What?" he'd say, grinning like the devil himself, giving your ass a nice grab before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Just tryin’ to paint you a picture."

It wasn't just the comments, though. It was the tone of his voice, the way his voice dripped with mischief, his eyes dark and suggestive, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin. And damn it, he was good at it. You'd laugh it off every time, rolling your eyes or shaking your head, pretending you weren't affected while saying “Keep dreaming, Cameron. Not gonna happen”. But in reality you actually wanted to dress up in a slutty costume for Rafe, you just couldn’t let him know that.

Your plan has been in moniton for months, with Christmas right around the corner you thought this would be the perfect time to give him what he’s been practically begging for as an early Christmas gift. You’ve been spending your time scrolling through multiple websites, trying to find the perfect ensemble to surprise him with. After continuously surfing the web you finally found the perfect costume and it was thankfully delivered just in time to surprise Rafe with it before he came home from his business trip.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as you open the package, pulling out each part of the costume in awe as you imagine the material clinging to your curves, and how Rafe’s going to be practically trying to rip it off you after the image of you being his sexy maid is stained in his brain. Out of all the role-playing scenarios he’s talked to you about, acting as his maid who ‘cleans up his messes’ and ‘does a little extra for her holiday bonus’ is the one he’s brought up the most.

Rafe’s private jet landed a few hours ago so now you’re currently preparing for his arrival and doing final touches on your look; spraying your favorite scent of perfume, taking your hair out of its current updo and allowing it to cascade down shoulders, and finishing your makeup with your strongest setting spray to keep it as fresh as possible.

As you take one final glance in your full length mirror, you can’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling in your stomach. The maid costume fit perfectly, snug in all the right places, the small white apron tied neatly around your waist, and the white thigh-high stockings with a lacy trim that adds a perfect amount of tease. You give yourself a once over, turning slightly to admire your physique, causing a smirk to come across your lips. “Damn, I look good.” You mumble under your breath as you make sure your hair looks its very best.

The sound of your phone buzzing as it sits on your vanity pulls your attention away from the mirror and you walk over to see read the notification which you soon realized it was a text from Rafe:

[8:55PM] Ray❤️: Just pulled in the driveway, baby.

As your eyes read Rafe’s text your heart skips a beat as the moment you’ve been carefully planning for months is finally here. You quickly adjust your stockings, grab the feather duster off your bed, and make your way downstairs to the front door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself and calm your nerves.

After a few minutes of waiting you can hear the keys being placed in the front door, and soon the door swings open and reveals Rafe. His navy blazer was slung over his shoulder, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his usual confidence carrying him inside. “Baby!” He calls out while his eyes quickly scans the area around the front door before he goes into his home office and sets his things down before trying to find you around the large square footage of Tannyhill. “Baby, where are you-” His words become lodged in his throat and his eyes widen when his gaze lands on you, standing in the kitchen in your costume, leaning against the granite countertop with a feather duster in your hand with a coy smile.

"Holy shit," His voice is low and raspy, he runs his hand over his buzz cut and rubs the back of his neck out of shock and disbelief that you’re standing in front of him, acting out one of his top fantasies. Rafe’s eyes can’t pry away from you in this beautiful ensemble: an all black lace corset that pushes up your plump breast, a little mini skirt that shows the bottom of your ass cheeks if you bend over in the slightest, white garters around your thighs and stockings wrapped around your slender legs, and the cherry on top that completes the outfit—and causes his cock to strain against his slacks— is your pretty feet in the Christian Louboutin black stilettos he bought you a while back.

“Welcome home, Mr. Cameron.” your voice is laced with a playful innocence but your eyes are telling a different story. Rafe doesn't respond immediately; his jaw slackens slightly, and his piercing blue eyes roam over body, soaking in every detail of your outfit like he's committing it to memory so he’ll never forget. His hand remains frozen on the back of his neck as though he's trying to ground himself from the initial wave of shock. Finally, his lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk, the kind that always sends shivers down your spine.

"Holy shit," he repeats, his voice thicker this time. He drops his blazer onto the back of a chair and walks toward you with purposeful steps, resting his hands on your hips, trying his best to keep himself under control and not just devour you right here on the kitchen counter. "I must've walked into the wrong house because there's no way my girl-" He pauses, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "—the one who's been brushing me off for months-is standing here looking like every fantasy i've ever had."

You twirl the feather duster in your hand, your coy smile growing as you feel his hand grasp the flesh of your ass. "Well, Mr. Cameron. I thought it was time I finally give you what you’ve been asking for." you say, your tone dripping with playful seduction.

Rafe's grip on your ass tightens, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you gasp. His smirk deepens and his eyes turn a shade darker with a glint of desire, showing that he’s clearly amused by how committed you are to your role. "You got no idea how long i've been waiting for this, baby." he drawls, his voice low and teasing.

Rafe steps even closer, pressing his body against yours until there's no space left between you, allowing you to feel his bulge that’s aching to be wrapped around your sweet pussy. His other hand slides up your waist, brushing against the lacy corset before resting just below your breast. "You've been playing hard to get," he murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, making goosebumps rise to the surface. "Brushing me off, laughing it away like I didn't mean it... And now you're just gonna stand there ‘n act like you didn't drive me crazy on purpose?"

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure under his intense gaze and his fiery touch as his hands move to multiple parts of your body. "I wanted it to be a surprise, an early Christmas gift." you whisper, setting the feather duster done and beginning to unbutton the rest of Rafe’s shirt so you can get him shirtless. "And judging by the look on your face, l'd say I made the right decision."

A dark chuckle escapes Rafe’s throat as his lips graze the corner of your mouth. "Oh, you did, sweetheart," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "But don't think for a second you're getting away with teasing me like this."

Rafe steps back slightly, his hands sliding down your thighs before effortlessly lifting you onto the countertop. The cool granite against your skin sends a shiver through your body, and before you can even react, he leans in, trailing his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone in teasing nips.

"I've got a lot of making up to do for all the times you told me this wasn't your thing," he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. His lips leave a trail of red marks, each one more insistent than the last, and you know they'll be hard to cover up tomorrow when you head out.

You grin at his remark, the teasing satisfaction in your eyes matched only by the heat building between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that's raw and hungry, his large, calloused hand wrapping around your throat in a possessive grip that makes your breath hitch. He kisses you sloppily, yet perfectly, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless and desperate for more.

Finally, he pulls away, his lips hovering just above yours, his eyes dark with desire. "I'm all yours, Mr. Cameron," you breathe, your voice thick with anticipation. "Whatever you need, I'm here to help."

Rafe pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, his hand still wrapped around your throat, his grip firm but careful. His lips are slightly swollen from the rough kiss, and his piercing blue eyes are dark with desire. "Whatever I need, huh?" he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he tilts your head back, exposing more of your neck to him.

You nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze your throat, his stubble rough against your sensitive skin. "Yes, that's what I'm here for," you whisper, your voice shaky but steady enough to keep up the act.

His piercing gaze locks onto yours, and then he lowers his eyes, making a slow, deliberate trail down to the very obvious bulge straining against his slacks. "Oh, i've got something you can help me out with," he says, his voice dripping with filthy intent. His hand slid to your chin, tilting your head up so you couldn't look anywhere but at him. "And trust me, sweetheart, it's a big job."

Your breath hitches as Rafe's words hang in the air, thick with desire and dirty promise. His piercing blue eyes pin you in place, his grip on your chin firm but gentle, commanding your attention. The smirk on his lips is cocky and confident, the kind that always makes your stomach flip.

"Oh, is that so?" you murmur, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze, though you try to keep your tone playful.

Rafe tilts his head, his thumb brushing lightly against your bottom lip. "Mhm," he hums, his voice low and gravelly. "You've been teasing me all night with this little outfit, acting like a good girl. But we both know better, don't we?"

Your cheeks flush at his words, but you hold his gaze, a small smirk tugging at your lips. "Well, Mr. Cameron," you reply, your voice dripping with false innocence, "I'm just here to... serve."

That earns you a low, dark chuckle from Rafe, his fingers sliding down to grip your neck lightly, just enough to make your pulse race. "Good," he murmurs, his lips brushing yours but not quite kissing you. "Then get down on your knees and start working... because I'm not letting you off easy."

The command sends a rush of heat through your body, and you feel his hands guide you off the counter with practiced ease. “Yes sir, Mr. Cameron.” Once your heels hit the tile you grab Rafe’s hand and lead him to the living room, making sure you twist your hips perfectly so your ass ripples with each step you take so Rafe’s eyes stay glued to your body.

When you're in front of the couch you softly push him into the cushiony material and once he’s seated your knees hit the soft rug beneath you, looking up at Rafe through your lashes while you undo the buckle of his belt, pulling the leather through its loops and throw it off to the side before pulling his pants and boxers down. Once the cotton cloth is no longer acting as a restraint, Rafe’s hardened cock springs free, softly hitting his lower abdomen before it rests in front of you, pre-cum leaking down his tip, making your mouth water at the sight.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, creating a pleasant sensation to shoot through Rafe’s body as your warm palm moves toward his tip and down to his base. Once you see the veins in his cock become prominent, and his shaft starts to throb in your hand, you move all your hair over your shoulder before kissing Rafe’s pinkish tip and taking him in your mouth, swirling your tongue on his cock and sucking him off just the way he likes.

As Rafe watches you, your lipstick leaving stains on his cock, the way you're taking him deep in your throat, watching your saliva drip down his shaft, and the vibrations flowing through his body from your soft hums to keep yourself from gagging makes him throw his head back in ecstasy, wanting to fuck your pretty little throat until it’s raw and hoarse.

He uses his large callous hands as a makeshift ponytail, tangling his hands in your hair before pushing you down further onto his cock, forcing your nose to touch his groin and the tip of his cock to your uvula, making a hiss spew from his mouth. "Fuck, that's it, baby," he murmurs, his voice filled with the wicked intent to press you to your limit and use you in any way he pleases.

Rafe's grip on your hair tightens as he guides your movements, his hips rolling forward slightly, matching the rhythm of your bobbing head. His cock twitches against your tongue, and the guttural groans spilling from his lips tell you just how much he's losing control. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust, his eyes locked on the way your lips stretch around him. "So fuckin' pretty like this. My perfect little maid, doin’ such a good job for me."

Your hands rest on his thighs for support as you take him deeper, your eyes watering but fixed upward to meet his intense gaze. He groans at the sight, his free hand brushing the tears that are flowing down your cheek with surprising tenderness, a sharp contrast to the way his other hand grips your hair.

"You like this, don't you?" he growls, his tone teetering between teasing and demanding. "Taking me so well, letting me use this pretty mouth. Bet you've been thinking about this all day, huh?"

You hum in response, the vibrations traveling through him and pulling another curse from his lips. "Shit," he hisses, his hips jerking forward instinctively. "I could do this all night. But you keep this up..." He trails off, his voice rough as his breathing grows heavier. "...and I'm not gonna last much longer."

Rafe pulls back slightly, letting you catch your breath before pressing you down again, his cock sliding deep into your throat. The lewd sound of your gagging only fuels him further, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you work, completely lost in the pleasure you're giving him.

"That's it, sweetheart," he groans, his voice low and gravelly. "Prove to me you're my good little maid. Show me just how well you can take care of me."

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