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plutonianeris · 1 month ago

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mars in synastry vibes 💋🔥

how they look 🔥

MARS IN THE 1ST HOUSE (Synastry): Instant physical attraction, can't stop staring, fiery chemistry, sexual tension you can feel across the room, admiring each other's bodies, drawn to each other's strength, wanting to be close, intense eye contact, competitive energy, feeling each other's presence like a spark, craving physical closeness, working out together, showing off for each other, teasing each other with confidence, pushing each other's buttons, getting fired up easily, feeling hot when you're around each other, flirting with aggression, touching each other in a way that feels like a dare, sexual magnetism that's impossible to ignore, craving that raw, physical connection, a strong desire to prove yourselves to each other, sexual tension that never quite fades.

MARS IN THE 2ND HOUSE (Synastry): Intense physical cravings, desire for touch and closeness, wanting to indulge in each other's bodies, sharing sensual pleasures, enjoying physical intimacy in a luxurious way, possessive of each other's time and attention, admiring each other's beauty, craving to own and protect each other, drawn to each other's physical presence like a magnet, constantly wanting to feel each other's warmth, physical connection through shared pleasures, fighting over possessions, needing to satisfy every desire, sensual touch that lingers, making each other feel valued and desired, admiring each other's taste, fighting for pleasure, craving physical satisfaction together.

MARS IN THE 3RD HOUSE (Synastry): Flirting through words, teasing each other constantly, playful arguments, words dripping with sexual tension, quick comebacks, always turning conversations into a game, mental stimulation that feels physical, seducing each other through conversation, making each other laugh, sexual tension in the way you speak to each other, biting sarcasm, daring each other with words, flirty texts that lead to something more, turning every debate into foreplay, enjoying the mental connection as much as the physical, arguments that turn into something heated, craving each other's mind and body at the same time, playful banter that keeps the attraction alive.

MARS IN THE 4TH HOUSE (Synastry): Private passion, wanting to be alone together, intense sexual energy behind closed doors, deep desire for intimacy at home, intense physical closeness in private moments, feeling safe to be vulnerable with each other, craving emotional and physical connection in intimate spaces, needing to be close in private, sexual energy that feels comforting, feeling drawn to each other's emotional depths, passion that builds slowly but intensely, wanting to protect each other, emotional and physical need to be close, craving intimacy away from the world, fierce desire to keep each other safe, feeling the pull of deep, private passion.

MARS IN THE 5TH HOUSE (Synastry): Flirtatious energy, playful teasing, raw sexual attraction, instant chemistry, laughing together, being drawn to each other's creativity and passion, romantic gestures filled with passion, sexual tension that feels fun and exciting, wanting to be spontaneous with each other, turning everything into a game, craving physical closeness, wanting to touch each other constantly, flirting that turns into something more, intense romantic connection, playful competition, sexual tension that feels light-hearted but strong, turning romance into passion, adventurous energy, sexual chemistry that feels like it's always on, enjoying the thrill of the chase, wanting to impress each other.

MARS IN THE 6TH HOUSE (Synastry): Sexual tension in everyday moments, feeling attracted to each other's work ethic, being drawn to each other's strength and stamina, admiring each other's dedication, subtle physical attraction in routine tasks, touching each other during mundane moments, getting turned on by each other's hard work, wanting to help each other improve, sexual chemistry that builds slowly, admiring how the other takes care of themselves, physical attraction in the details, feeling motivated by each other, turning routine into something sensual, admiring how they move through daily life, sexual tension in the way you work together, craving physical connection in everyday tasks.

MARS IN THE 7TH HOUSE (Synastry): Intense desire for partnership, sexual tension in one-on-one interactions, feeling a pull toward each other that can't be ignored, wanting to merge physically and emotionally, constant physical attraction, feeling like you're made for each other, passionate arguments, intense eye contact that leads to something more, wanting to be close in every moment, sexual tension in the air when you're together, fighting that turns into something heated, wanting to prove yourself to each other, craving intimacy through partnership, feeling like the physical connection is as important as the emotional, always wanting to be close, sexual energy that fills the space between you.

MARS IN THE 8TH HOUSE (Synastry): Deep, primal attraction, intense sexual chemistry, craving physical and emotional intimacy, wanting to merge completely, drawn to each other's darkest desires, feeling a pull toward each other's soul, craving physical closeness that feels transformative, needing to go deeper in every way, intense eye contact that feels like it could strip you bare, sexual energy that feels all-consuming, craving each other in ways that go beyond the physical, wanting to explore each other's vulnerabilities, feeling like you can't get close enough, sexual tension that feels almost overwhelming, intense passion that feels dangerous and exciting, a desire for complete surrender to each other.

MARS IN THE 9TH HOUSE (Synastry): Sexual attraction mixed with a sense of adventure, craving excitement together, wanting to explore new heights of pleasure, being drawn to each other's freedom and wildness, feeling turned on by each other's boldness, craving spontaneous physical connection, intense sexual chemistry that feels free and exhilarating, wanting to try new things together, feeling adventurous in the bedroom, admiring each other's confidence, craving passion that feels liberating, sexual tension in moments of discovery, wanting to push boundaries, feeling alive and excited by each other's presence, sexual energy that feels wild and uncontainable, constantly seeking new experiences together.

MARS IN THE 10TH HOUSE (Synastry): Physical attraction mixed with admiration, feeling turned on by each other's ambition, wanting to prove yourselves to each other, sexual tension in professional settings, being drawn to each other's power, admiring how you both handle success, craving physical closeness that feels powerful, wanting to dominate each other in the best way, feeling the sexual tension in public moments, intense eye contact in professional spaces, craving physical connection that's filled with admiration, sexual chemistry that feels like a power struggle, wanting to be seen as equals in and out of the bedroom, feeling like you're both powerful together, sexual energy that fuels your ambition.

MARS IN THE 11TH HOUSE (Synastry): Sexual tension in friendship, feeling attracted to each other in social settings, playful energy that turns into something more, feeling turned on by each other's uniqueness, craving physical closeness that feels exciting and unexpected, being drawn to each other's individuality, flirting in group settings, feeling like you're both rebels, craving spontaneous physical connection, sexual tension that builds during conversations, wanting to break the rules together, feeling like friends who could easily become lovers, playful banter that turns into physical attraction, craving excitement and uniqueness in your physical connection, feeling like you're both outside the norm.

MARS IN THE 12TH HOUSE (Synastry): Hidden sexual tension, feeling an intense pull toward each other that's hard to explain, craving physical closeness that feels secretive and private, feeling like you're uncovering each other's deepest desires, intense eye contact that feels forbidden, craving intimacy that goes beyond the physical, feeling drawn to each other in ways you can't explain, wanting to explore each other's hidden sides, sexual tension that feels like it's always just beneath the surface, feeling like you're keeping your connection secret, craving physical closeness in private, feeling turned on by the mystery of the other, intense sexual chemistry that feels spiritual and emotional, craving intimacy that feels like it's from another world.

what they sound like💋

MARS IN THE 1ST HOUSE (Synastry): Explosive chemistry from the first moment, instant physical attraction, the House person feels Mars’ raw, sexual energy directed right at them, like a magnet they can’t resist. The House person feels Mars’ gaze all over their body, making them hyper-aware of every move they make. The Mars person will say, “I want you, right now, and I can’t take my eyes off you.” Mars is consumed by lust, captivated by the House person’s appearance and presence, drawn to their physicality in a way that makes their desire impossible to hide. The air between them crackles with sexual tension, and every interaction feels like it could ignite into passion at any second.

MARS IN THE 2ND HOUSE (Synastry): A raw, primal desire for possession, Mars is all about touching and taking what they want. The House person feels Mars’ physical hunger for them, expressed through wanting to claim and own their body, almost like they’re a prized possession. The Mars person says, “I want to feel your skin, taste you, have you completely.” The desire to merge is intense, rooted in the physical, with Mars’ energy driving them to make the House person theirs. There’s a sensuality here, but it’s fiery—Mars wants to consume the House person’s body and senses, leaving them craving more.

MARS IN THE 3RD HOUSE (Synastry): Verbal sparring that feels like foreplay, words exchanged with heat, every conversation feels like a prelude to something more physical. The House person feels Mars’ energy in their words, like each sentence is charged with sexual tension, making even casual conversations feel erotic. The Mars person will say, “The way you talk turns me on—I want to kiss you mid-sentence.” Mars is drawn to the House person’s mind and how they express themselves, but it’s the underlying sexual current that makes every word feel like a tease, pulling them closer and closer until the conversation isn’t enough anymore.

MARS IN THE 4TH HOUSE (Synastry): A raw, primal need to feel physically close in private, Mars’ energy is focused on creating intense physical intimacy behind closed doors. The House person feels Mars’ overwhelming desire to claim their space, their body, and their private world, making home life charged with passion. The Mars person says, “I want you here, now, where no one else can see us.” Mars wants to dominate the House person in their most private, intimate spaces, turning their home into a place of intense sexual encounters, where boundaries melt away and their connection feels deeply physical and primal.

MARS IN THE 5TH HOUSE (Synastry): Explosive, uninhibited sexual energy, Mars is here for the fun, and the physical attraction is undeniable. The House person feels Mars’ desire to play, flirt, and seduce, with every encounter charged with raw passion. The Mars person says, “I want to take you, right here, right now, and I don’t care who sees.” There’s an open, wild energy to the connection, where the physical chemistry is so electric that it’s hard to control. Everything from a look, a touch, to a kiss feels like it’s leading somewhere passionate and reckless, where the lines between fun and desire blur into pure physical pleasure.

MARS IN THE 6TH HOUSE (Synastry): A relentless physical desire to serve, Mars directs their energy toward the House person’s body, focusing on how they can satisfy them physically. The Mars person brings an overwhelming desire to be close, even in the most mundane settings.The House person feels an intense sexual tension building in the everyday moments-at work, in routines, during workouts. Mars brings a raw energy that turns even the most ordinary tasks into something charged with erotic undertones. Mars says, "I want to watch you sweat, work, and push yourself-it turns me on." The House person feels that desire to push their limits physically, wanting to prove their strength, their endurance, and feeling Mars' admiration grow with every effort. The attraction builds slowly, but the tension becomes unbearable, leading to a release that feels all the more satisfying.

MARS IN THE 7TH HOUSE (Synastry): The Mars person triggers an intense need for physical and sexual closeness within the House person. Relationships here are all-consuming, filled with passion, desire, and even power struggles. Mars is direct, saying, "I want you, and I'll fight for you." The House person feels that drive, that hunger to be desired so fiercely. Every interaction is filled with an underlying sexual tension, where arguments turn into heated make-up sex, and the passion never fades. The connection is thrilling, a constant back-and-forth of attraction, lust, and intensity that keeps the relationship feeling alive and electric.

MARS IN THE 8TH HOUSE (Synastry): Sexual magnetism at its peak. The House person feels Mars' presence like a deep, primal craving for connection on every level— emotional, physical, and spiritual. Mars unlocks their darkest desires, stirring a passion that feels almost dangerous. Mars says, "I want to possess you, completely." The House person is captivated, feeling that intense, almost overwhelming pull toward sexual intimacy that goes beyond just the physical. It's raw, it's consuming, and it's impossible to resist. The chemistry is magnetic, the kind that feels fated, leaving both feeling transformed by the connection, like nothing will ever be the same after experiencing this depth of intimacy.

MARS IN THE 9TH HOUSE (Synastry): Mars ignites a passionate desire for adventure, exploration, and new experiences within the House person. There's an intense sexual chemistry that feels free, open, and wild. Mars says, "1 want to take you places you've never been-physically and mentally." The House person feels that pull toward sexual liberation, craving new and thrilling experiences that go beyond the usual. The attraction is fueled by a shared desire for exploration, where every moment together feels like a new adventure. Sex is spontaneous, exciting, and full of discovery, leaving both feeling alive and insatiable for more.

MARS IN THE 10TH HOUSE (Synastry): Mars brings a powerful sexual tension into the House person's public life, turning career dynamics into something charged with desire. The House person feels Mars' desire to dominate, to be noticed, and to claim them in ways that go beyond professional boundaries. Mars says, "I want to own you, I want everyone to know you're mine." The attraction is filled with ambition and lust, where public admiration turns into private passion. The House person feels drawn to Mars' intensity, wanting to prove their worth, to show their power, both in and out of the bedroom. It's a connection where power and sex are intertwined, leaving both feeling powerful yet vulnerable to each other's desires.

MARS IN THE 11TH HOUSE (Synastry): Mars turns friendship into something electric, sparking sexual tension that neither can ignore. The House person feels Mars' energy pushing them to see beyond the platonic, wanting to explore the physical side of their connection. Mars says, "I don't just want to be friends-I want to know you in every way." The House person feels that pull, the craving for something deeper, more intense, where physical attraction and friendship merge into one. The sexual chemistry is undeniable, often catching both by surprise, but once it's out in the open, there's no going back. It's a connection that pushes boundaries, blurring the line between friends and lovers.

MARS IN THE 12TH HOUSE (Synastry): The Mars person awakens the House person's deepest, most hidden desires, bringing a sexual energy that feels secretive, mysterious, and irresistible. The House person feels an intense craving for physical connection, but in a way that's more private, almost forbidden. Mars whispers, "I want you in ways you can't even admit to yourself." The House person is drawn into the mystery, feeling the pull of something dark, secretive, and alluring. The sexual chemistry is hidden but potent, simmering beneath the surface, where every touch feels like it could unlock something profound and transformative. It's a connection that's both erotic and deeply emotional, leaving both feeling like they've uncovered something sacred.

#astrology #synastry #mars synastry #synastry observations #romance synastry #synastry notes #mars through the houses #mars overlays #mars in synastry #mars observations #random astro observations #astrology notes #mars in astrology

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astrow1zar6 · 1 month ago

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Astrology observations-33

I notice a lot of Taurus moon/mars people tend to hoard a lot. I’ve seen ppl with this placement go thru periods in their life where they lost a lot of valuable things whether it be because of money issues of moving away or they may have had a period in their lives where material possessions were very scarce.

Venus in retrograde people tend to come off very cold in social situations. I’ve only seen a handful of ppl with this placement bc it’s quiet rare to find but I notice they tend to lack social graces so people assume they are rude☹️ but deep down these ppl are so shy and sweet. I also notice this is lowkey a beauty aspect like ppl with this placement be sooo FINE but they never see it themselves (similar to Venus square Ascendant)

Saturn square Venus synastry is SOOOO annoying to have for both parties. You both wanna connect badly but everytime you interact there’s this overly formal way you guys about things especially on Saturns end. These people are so attracted to eachother too but there’s always something that keeps you from really getting to know this person whether it be distance, vulnerability problems, communication barriers ect. It usually takes these people a long ass time to connect but when they do it’s so long lasting just takes a lot of trust.

Aries sun/venus tend to try to over dominate their partners and friends a lot. I notice these people always try to compete with others to prove their superiority. This can cause them to have a bully reputation.

Mars in Taurus’s tend to work best when they are working with their hands ESPECIALLY in nature. They are usually amazing farmers/gardeners.

Mars in 3rd house people tend to have a very intense relationship with their siblings. They usually grew up arguing with them a lot or not getting along. Could also indicate having aggressive siblings. Could have a lot of resentment towards them.

Dating a Sag Venus & Aqua Venus just feels like you’re being friendzoned😭

Scorpio moons tend to get really embarrassed when they act out of emotion (Scorpio suns too but Scorpio moons definitely take the cake) they can lose control of their emotions for a second then start ghosting you for like a year lmao.

Aquarius risings are all soo hottt but when you get to know them deeper your just kinda like “????” Uk

Aquarius suns tend to be the least ambitious. They aren’t as attached to money like most I notice. (Unless they got a lot of Taurus and Capricorn)

Virgo moons are such clean girls 🧼

Venus in the 7th house people (especially with libra in the big three) usually can’t be alone for too long. Needs a lot of romantic attention to function. I notice if they don’t get that they tend to lowkey self destruct and go back to toxic exes.

Venus in the 2nd house people have the best self esteem. People usually only associate this placement with finances but people forget 2nd house also rules self worth. When positively aspected these people have such a deep love for themselves which turns them into a magnet. However If underdeveloped they can be very pessimistic & greedy & attract a lot of narcissists that use them for their $$.

Aries sun Cap moon people tend to be bullies.

Lilith in Pisces people tend to victimize themselves in every situation where they may be viewed negatively. They hate being held accountable for their faults.

Aries placements love provoking people and pushing their buttons. They find it stimulating.

Do not argue with someone with a Virgo moon and Scorpio Mars unless you’re ready to cry your eyes out for months

Taurus moons are usually very shy especially with a water/earth mercury it can be harder for these people to make friends due to their fear of getting out their comfort zone. You usually have to be very patient with these people they scope you out for awhile before they decide they want to be friends. Be lucky if they pick you too cuz they are PICKY.

When a Scorpio rising is attracted to you they will STAREEE INTO YOUR EYES. They are the masters at silent seduction. They won’t be overly flirtatious but the minutes they look at you it’s like they’re looking into your soul. And while it can make your heart stop it is very intimidating at times. You see so much obsession in their eyes when they like you. But when they hate you it’s like you’re invisible to them they won’t even acknowledge your presence most of the time.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes

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hoshifighting · 6 months ago

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New in the Suburbs – New Neighboor! Joshua

— WARNINGS: Smut, fingering, pussy eating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, lots of flirting and dirty talk, hair pulling, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, overstimulation, oversensitivity, good first impression (both). — WC: 4.5k

On a bright and sunny day, you found yourself outside your house, taking advantage of the weather to give your car a well-deserved wash. The gentle breeze carried the scent of soap and water as you stood there, hose in hand, working diligently to make your car shine. The vehicle was parked just outside the garage, basking in the warmth of the sun.

The water gushed from the hose, soaking both you and the car. You leaned casually on the hood, propping your feet up on the tall tire to ensure you reached every nook and cranny with the rinse. Your skin glistened under the sun, creating a glow that seemed to catch the attention of anyone passing by.

As you immerse yourself in the task, a voice interrupted your thoughts. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted Dokyeom, Jihoon, and a new face you had never seen before. The unfamiliar guy wore khaki shorts and a crisp white buttoned shirt, adorned with the subtle elegance of the ARMANI logo. He radiated a captivating charm that caught you off guard.

To his eyes, you likely appeared enchanting—looking like the movie cover of a hot summer full of tanned, toned people. Your white tank top clung to your form, its transparency accentuated by the water, and your shorts molded against your body, creating a silhouette that seemed straight out of a summer fantasy. With your wet hair tousled from the refreshing shower you gave yourself, the trio approached, curious and captivated.

Dokyeom, noticing the enchantment in Joshua's gaze, decided to take the initiative and introduce his friend to you. With a playful smile, he nudged Joshua and gestured towards you.

"Y/N, meet Joshua," Dokyeom announced, his tone carrying a hint of mischief. "He just moved into the neighborhood."

You turned your attention to Joshua, and your eyes met his. There was a warmth in his gaze, and you couldn't help but return his friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Joshua,"

He extended his hand, shaking yours with a firm grip that lingered longer than the usual greeting. A subtle connection sparked in that moment as you exchanged smiles.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N. I must say, Dokyeom has been singing the praises of this neighborhood, but meeting you adds a whole new level of charm."

Dokyeom chuckled, nudging Joshua playfully. "Told you it's a great place. And Y/N here is one of the reasons why."

Feeling a playful embarrassment, you couldn't help but blush as you lightly hit Dokyeom's chest in response to his teasing. He laughed, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment.

"Alright, alright, I see what's going on here," Dokyeom teased, exchanging knowing glances with Joshua. "We'll leave you to do your car wash duties. But Joshua, make sure you get settled in properly, alright?"

Joshua nodded with a smile, still holding a lingering gaze that didn't go unnoticed. "Absolutely. Thanks for the warm welcome, Y/N. I'll catch you around."

As they turned to leave, you bid them farewell with a wave. "Sure thing! Nice meeting you, Joshua. And Dokyeom, don't you dare make this a neighborhood gossip!"

Dokyeom laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I won't say a word! Have fun, Y/N."

As you resumed attending to the car, thoughts swirled in your mind. You wondered what it was about Joshua that made him so captivating. While you couldn't quite put a finger on it, there was a magnetic draw to his presence.

As the day went by, you continued your routine, occasionally stealing glances toward the house where Joshua had moved in. The encounter replayed in your memory, leaving you curious to see him again.

The next day, as you lounged in your backyard, basking in the sunshine while you wore your bikinis, a familiar figure caught your eye. Joshua, his athletic frame glistening with a touch of sweat, ran past your house.

Just as he passed by, he suddenly stopped and turned towards you, leaning against the fence that separated your yards. His eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't expected to find you there in such a relaxed state. A warm smile spread across his face as he gave you a friendly wave.

Joshua leaned against the fence, his breath slightly labored from the run. He looked at you and grinned. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise. You look absolutely glowing in the sun."

You chuckled softly, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thanks, I suppose the sun has a way of bringing out the best in everyone, including you. Running, I see. You always this energetic in the mornings?"

Joshua shrugged playfully, raking a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

"Ah, you know it's part of my morning routine. Gotta get the blood pumping before the day begins. But I must say, the sight of you basking in the sun has added a few extra beats to my heart."

You grinned, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in your eyes. "Is this your way of flirting with me, Mr. Energetic? Or are those "extra beats" just from your run?"

Joshua chuckled, a playful glint in his gaze. "Ah, you caught me. It's a bit of both, I suppose. Can you blame me for being flirty when faced with such a captivating view?"

As you walked toward him swaying your hips, Joshua's eyes tracked you as you approached, his smile widening in response. Once you reached the fence and leaned against it, Joshua's eyes flicked up to meet yours.

"You know, it's the second day and you're already flirting with me? My friends will surely enjoy hearing about this!" you taunted, your voice laced with a hint of teasing challenge.

Joshua's eyes tracked you as you approached, his smile widening in response. Once you reached the fence and leaned against it, he responded with a teasing tone.

"Oh, am I making such a strong impression already?" He teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "If my flirting is that obvious, I guess I can't keep it a secret from your friends for long. They'll find out real quick that I can't help but flirt with the beautiful girl next door."

A soft laugh escaped your lips, enjoying the light-hearted banter between you. You leaned in a little closer, keeping your gaze locked with his. "Well, I'll make sure to let them know. But don't worry, I won't tell them how eagerly you've been eyeing me in my bikinis."

Joshua's cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto his face. He quickly regained his composure and grinned. "Fair enough. I'll keep it subtle, or at least I'll try to. No promises, though."

You couldn't help but smile at his response. The chemistry between you was palpable, leaving a flutter in your chest. Leaning back a bit, you teased, "Well, if you can't resist your eyes wandering, I might have to start wearing something more... revealing. I'm sure you wouldn't mind that, right?"

Joshua's eyes widened, a blush deepening on his cheeks. He stuttered slightly before mustering a playful reply. "Ah, now you're just doing it to torment me, aren't you? But you won't hear any complaints from me."

Your smirk widened, enjoying his flustered reaction. "Oh, not tormenting, just giving you a little taste."

Joshua's eyes glimmered with anticipation as he played along. "Just a taste? I'm starting to think you're a master of teasing." He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "But I can play that game too."

Joshua took a step closer, his body nearly against yours. His eyes held a mixture of playfulness and desire. You looked back at him, a hint of a smile on your face. "Can you?"

He nods, his voice low and husky. "Oh, I definitely can."

You stepped back, creating a small gap between you, and glanced back at him with a sultry gaze. You turned back around and laid back on the lounger, giving him a teasing look over your shoulder.

Joshua paused for a moment, his gaze roving over you before leaving a casual comment. "You know, I might have to run near your house more often if this is the view I get." He chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours one more time before he started to walk back towards his house.

You watched him leave, the events of the conversation replaying in your mind. The chemistry between you was undeniable, leaving you curious about what the future might hold.

As the week progressed, you observed the hustle and bustle next door, catching glimpses of Joshua moving into his new home. From time to time, you would spot him jogging past your house during his morning runs. The sight of him sent a flutter in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was intentionally passing by your place on his runs.

[...]

Today was Friday, and after a long day at work, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel. As you padded into the kitchen, there was a sudden knock on the door. Surprised, you hesitated for a moment, wondering who could be visiting at this hour.

You approached the door and peered through the peephole, curiosity piqued. To your surprise, you saw Joshua standing there, wearing a casual outfit and a friendly smile.

You widened your eyes slightly, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding your senses. Quickly, you adjusted your towel and took a breath to compose yourself. Opening the door, you greeted Joshua with a warm smile, quickly running a hand through your damp hair

"Hey there, Joshua. What brings you there?" You asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Joshua's smile widened as he saw you, taking in the sight of you in your towel. his eyes momentarily flickering down before returning to meet yours. He ran a hand through his hair in a casual gesture.

"Ah, I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time," he stuttered slightly, clearly trying to keep his mind from wandering to the sight of you in a towel.

You chuckled softly, not missing the momentary distraction in his eyes.

"Not at all. You just caught me right after a shower."

"I noticed you just got home a while ago, so I thought I'd drop by to see how your day was and maybe..." he hesitated for a moment, a playful glint in his gaze. "Maybe invite you to hang out tonight. If you're not too tired, that is."

"I just wanted to invite you to my housewarming party tonight. It's nothing grand, just some friends chilling and having a good time."

You nodded with a small smile, appreciative of the invite, but feeling slightly embarrassed in your impromptu outfit.

"Sure, that sounds great! Let me just change real quick and I’ll be right over."

Joshua’s expression turned playfully sulky as he responded with a touch of disappointment. “Ah, do you really have to change? I quite liked the sight of you in that towel.”

As his sulky expression intensified, you couldn't help but tease him a bit. You laughed playfully, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Ah, now you really want me to wear just a towel?” You teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Well, I suppose I could give everyone a treat, but then again, where's the fun in having me all to yourself if there's a crowd?"

Joshua's disappointment melted away, replaced by a sly smile that matched your own. He took a step closer, the distance between you growing increasingly intimate.

"You're right," he mused, his voice low and suggestive. "Crowds are overrated, especially when there's a chance to have you all to myself." His gaze fixated on your lips, a hint of desire in his eyes.

As he stepped inside, the air thick with tension and desire, you found yourself leaning against the wall for support. His closeness sent a shiver down your spine, and as he closed the door, the moment grew even more intimate.

Your breath hitched slightly, and your eyes widened, meeting his intense gaze. You could feel the wetness between your legs growing, and the desire within you intensifying, despite your best attempts to hide it.

"You sure' you want to change?"

Your breath hitched as his mouth hovered near your lips, anticipating a kiss. But instead, Joshua planted a kiss on your neck, gently nibbling and sending a bolt of electricity through you. A moan escaped your lips, the sensation causing your chest to heave.

His body pressed against yours, and he pressed his lips into your skin, trailing a path of kisses down your neck and collarbone.

"You've been on my mind all week, you know that? Every time I ran past your house, it took every ounce of restraint not to come knock on your door and finish what I started that first day." His mouth then traveled up to your earlobe, nibbling it gently.

As his hands gripped your waist, you were flush against the wall and his body, the towel doing little to shield you from the heat of his touch. His breath mingled with yours, warm and tantalizing. You parted your lips just as his caressed yours in a soft tease.

Joshua took advantage of your parted lips, gently coaxing his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. His other hand found its way under the towel, tracing the curve of your ass possessively. You gasped softly, the pleasure intensifying.

His hand caressing your breast was both gentle and masterful, with a slight shift in movement, the knot of the towel gave way, and you gasped against his mouth. He took the opportunity to pull you closer and explore further.

With you even more exposed, the feel of your bodies pressed together without barriers intensified the sensations. Joshua kissed his way down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. You could feel his arousal pressing into you, a delicious friction that made you ache for more. The sound of your moans and heavy breathing filled the air, adding to the wanton atmosphere.

He guided you to the dining table, the surface cool against your heated skin. You sat on its edge, the cool sensation only adding to the contrast of sensations. As he pushed your legs apart, exposing your wet dripping pussy to him.

His attention and touch on your thighs were both possessive and admiring, leaving behind a trail of shivers with every caress. He whispered words of praise, telling you how much enjoyed the sight of you like this, vulnerable and naked before him.

His thumb brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, and your back arched in response. You gasped as jolts of pleasure shot through you, leaving you breathless.

''Joshua! Hmm…"

"Oh, that's right. Say my name, sweetheart. Let me hear how much you want me," he whispered against your skin, his voice low and seductive. You gasped, arching further under the ministrations of his touch.

"Joshua..." You moaned softly, your body shivering with pleasure. "Yes..." he murmured, his thumb circling your sensitive clit.

Joshua continued with his thumb moving in slow circles, driving you closer to the edge. "You sound so lovely when you’re all needy."

You let him do with you what he pleased, lying back on the table, with chest rising and falling fast, you arch your back as he continued to tease you. His touch grew more insistent, determined to bring you to the brink.

Joshua penetrates two of his fingers inside your pussy, your cunt swallowing his fingers eagerly continued their work, stroking and gently rubbing, while his other hand moved up to caress your belly and chest.

You moaned softly, a desperate edge to your voice. "I’m close," you murmur, every syllable quivering with pleasure. He picked up on your need, his breath warm against your ear. "I know," he whispered, a teasing lilt in his tone. "I can feel how close you are." His touch against you intensified, determined to take you over the edge.

He worked you to the brink of ecstasy, his touch and whispers driving you wild. Your body arched and trembled under his ministrations. "Let go," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Cum for me."

You grabbed onto his forearm, holding on tight as you came undone. Your body tensed and arched, a strangled scream escaping your lips as waves of pleasure washed over you. His hand continued to move gently as you rode it out, coaxing every last spasm from your trembling body.

Even as you began to come down from the high, Joshua continued his ministrations, not giving you a moment reprieve. You writhed and squirmed on the table, oversensitive and breathless. "Wait," you stuttered, your voice strained. "I can't take it anymore."

"Shh," he whispered, his hand cupping your cheek. "Just let me take care of you." His touch gently persisted, pushing you to another edge.

Your gasp was followed by a plea, his name falling from your lips like a desperate refrain. The pleasure was overwhelming, verging on the edge of pain, and the knot tightened in your belly, the sensations building again. "Joshua," you gasped again, tears welling in your eyes as he continued to coax you towards your second climax.

Joshua kneeled down between your thighs, his gaze darkened with desire. The proximity of his mouth to your sensitive clit was enough to drive you wild, even before he touched you. And when he did, you let out a sharp cry, the heat of his tongue adding to the intense sensations.

You grasped onto his hair, needing something to anchor you, as the pleasure built with each movement of his tongue. Your vision blurred at the edges, the world starting to lose focus as the climax approached again. Joshua's groaned against you, the sound reverberating through your body and sending more waves of pleasure through you.

In the aftermath of your climax, you lay on the table, your body boneless and breathless. Joshua ran his hands gently over your trembling form, coaxing you back from the heights of pleasure.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He murmured, his voice soft and tender.

You nodded, your gaze hazy and satisfied. Joshua continued to caress your skin, his touch light and soothing.

As he tended to you, Joshua's kisses and caresses became increasingly needy. His mouth on your neck, biting and nibbling, while his hands roamed your body possessively.

You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, the contact sending a wave of heat through you. Despite your recent climax, his touch reignited your desire and set your nerves aflame.

His mouth moved lower, trailing down your chest to reach your sensitive nipples. He teased, his tongue swirling around each hard bud. You gasped at the sensitivity of it, your hand grasping at his hair.

His tongue flicking against them teasingly, as he looks at you.

As Joshua's lips continued to explore your body and his actions grew more intense, you couldn't help but notice the evident bulge in his pants. His control, usually so steadfast, seemed to falter slightly, the desire between you overwhelming his restraint.

"J-Joshua," you managed to gasp out, your voice thick with desire. "You're... so hard."

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes darkened with need.

Joshua's gaze darkened further as you mentioned his arousal, the words only serving to heighten his desire. "Can you feel what you did to me?" he managed to say, his voice strained with restraint.

He shifted slightly, his body pressing more firmly against yours, letting you feel the full extent of his need. Heat pulsed between you, leaving no room for doubt about how much he wanted you.

You responded to his words with an ardent sigh, the sound dripping with need. "I want– " you gasped as his mouth found your neck again, planting a hot kiss. "I want to feel you. All of you." Your words were barely above a whisper, but their meaning, clear.

His control slipped further, the hunger in his gaze deepening as he looked up at you. "You'll have me," he promised, his voice filled with desire. "Every inch."

As your hand strayed down your belly, your fingers teasing your throbbing clit, Joshua watched in awe and desire. The sight was almost too much, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to resist the urge to take control.

He tried to focus on breathing as he watched your actions, his own desire straining against the confines of his pants. Your eyes met his, and he could do nothing to resist his lust. He quickly unstrapped his belt, tossing it on the ground.

As you caressed yourself, Joshua's control shattered. His pants hit the floor moments before he closed the distance between you, his hands finding your wrists, gently drawing them away from your body.

"No," he said breathlessly. "Let me."

In that moment, all rational thought faded away, replaced only by sensation and heat. The feeling of him pressing his cock against your slit, sent shivers through your body, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for him to fully enter you.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart." Joshua commands.

You tried to focus on his gaze as he entered you, but the sensation of his size stretching you was overwhelming. Your eyes rolled back slightly, the pleasure and slight twinge of pain sending your mind to another multiverse.

With every slow and sharp rock of his hips, your whole body trembled, the sensations overwhelming. Joshua's moans echoed through the room as he held your gaze, the heat between you intensifying with each moment. Feeling him fight to hold back, to prolong the moment, ignited a fire within you.

As you clenched and unclenched around him, his expression grew more and more strained, the struggle to hold back evident in his gritted teeth and sweaty face.

"Is it good Joshua?" You ask between gasps and thrusts.

You watched as his eyes closed, his expression contorting with the effort to hold on for you, a tortured groan escaping his throat.

"Yes–," he managed to gasp out, the word leaving his lips in a rush of breath. "It's so good, so good. I can't–"

You knew the pleasure he was experiencing was immense, his body trembling as he fought to maintain control for your sake.

Each time you clenched around him, his body tensed in response, the feeling of him inside you driving him closer and closer to the edge.

Joshua's eyes met yours as you felt a sudden surge of moisture between your folds, his expression shifting from a mixture of ecstasy to amazement. "You're so wet," he gasped, his voice dripping with desire.

He increased his pace, his gaze never leaving yours, his hands finding purchase on your hips. His grip was firm, as if pulling you closer only deepened the pleasure.

The sounds of flesh against flesh echoing in the room, as your hands roamed over his chest, needing something to anchor you in the waves of sensation.

His thumb finds your sensitive bud again, a wave of pleasure washes over you, making your entire body convulse beneath him. You curse, writhing helplessly as he continues to tease and caress you, pushing you closer to the edge. Your voice is a breathy mix of pleasure and desire, the only words leaving your lips a pleading, "Don't stop."

With a swift move, he turns you, your body now braced against the table, and then, he thrust into you again, the table scraping against the floor as he pulls your hair roughly.

Joshua's grip on your hair tightened as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his kisses.

A strangled moan escaped your lips as your breath came in pants, the intensity building with each passing moment, as if you could feel him deeper from this angle.

His cock finds the spot, and you sobbed, the sensation almost overwhelming, and he chuckled softly against your skin, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Is this it?" he whispered, his words husky and seductive. "I think I found it."

Each time he repeated the motion, you could only gasp out a choked, "Yes!"

You felt him hit against that sensitive spot again and again, each time eliciting a sharp gasp or moan from your parted lips. He knew exactly where to touch you, his touch teasing and expert.

With each hit of that spot, your legs trembled, threatening to give out completely and your body went limp. A mixture of pleasure and pain surged through you, your tears mixing with the sensations as he roughly grasped your hair. "Don't hold back," he muttered, his voice low and full of need. "Let me hear you."

"Joshua," you gasped between sobs and moans, his name a broken plea on your lips. your body had lost all control, helpless against the torrent of sensations and his masterful touch. "J-Joshua," you gasped, your voice breaking. "Please... I can't... I'm going to..."

Your words ended in a strangled groan, the intensity of the pleasure too much. You felt yourself clench around him, your body beginning to unravel, pushed over the edge by his relentless pace. "Oh god–" you managed to gasp out, your nails digging into the table.

And then it hits you, waves of ecstasy crashing over you like a tidal wave, drowning out all coherent thought. You arched your back, head thrown back as you cried out, the intensity overwhelming.

Your pussy tightened around him, drawing him closer to cum as well.

Through it all, Joshua held you, one hand steadying your hips while the other still gripped your hair, grounding you through the storm of pleasure. He rode out the waves with you, his own breath growing ragged as he fought to hold back his own release.

The tears fell faster now, blurring your vision as you lost yourself to the raw lust and desire. Your body convulsed and trembled as you whispered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

He loosened his grip on your hair as you sagged against the table, and you nearly fell forward onto the table face-first. Joshua steadied you quickly, supporting you with one strong arm while he turned you to sit on the table. He gathered you, holding you close in a soothing embrace, allowing you to catch your breath.

''Take your time. I've got you." he murmured softly as he caressed your scalp.

You finally managed to find your voice, albeit somewhat raspy and breathless. "Joshua," you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze. "You know your friends will be wondering what's taking so long."

"Let them wonder," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of humor. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle. "I'm in no rush to leave. Besides, I'm far more interested in tending to your needs than worrying about them."

You chuckle.

Joshua chuckled softly, still holding you close. "They'll be fine," he said, "What's a few more minutes?"

As if on cue, a sudden knock sounded on your door, followed by the sound of a familiar voice. "Joshua? You in there, man?"

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nhlclover · 6 days ago

Text

HANDS TO MYSELF QUINN HUGHES

pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes

summary: after weeks of clashing schedules, yours and quinns calendars finally align for a much-desired date night.

warnings: veerrryyy sexually charged (but no smut), quinn and reader are very much in love, quinn being a lil bit horny, makeout

wc: 2.45k

notes: came so close to writing smut for this fic but i didn't think it would be good. also here is the dress i'm describing if you care!

In a serendipitous alignment of your overfilled schedules, the night finally arrives. Weeks of clashing obligations, games, appointments, practices, and disappointments converge to clear a single slot in time, and Quinn, ever the romantic planner, had spent the entire day coordinating for it. He’d spun a few webs to secure a table at Riley’s, a restaurant that you knew had been booked solid for months. The restaurant itself was peak elegance, serving high-end food with the best of service.

You pulled the black, satin dress that hung in its garment bag out from the back of your closet. It was a dress that had been waiting, forgotten but pristine, for an evening like this. You stepped into the dress, pulling the zipper, but realizing that the button at the top would need the aid of Quinn. Your makeup was done, hair pulled up into a messy, but planned bun on the top of your head. You check your reflection, every detail scrutinized until it's perfect. In the low-lit glow of your vanity mirror, you look radiant, a piece of art made alive.

When you’re finally ready, you drift into the living room where Quinn is waiting. He rises at your entrance, and the room seems to shrink around you. His silence feels louder than any compliment. His eyes take you in, from the cut-outs at your waist to the way the fabric hugs and accentuates the curves of your body perfectly.

Then, as if he can no longer contain it, he utters, “You look… I can’t believe how stunning you are.” His voice is reverent as if you were something divine and beautiful he had stumbled upon.

“Thank you, baby,” you say softly. You take him in as well, the chocolate-colored suit tailored to fit him perfectly, the white dress shirt unbuttoned slightly to show off the curves of his chest. “Can you help me do up the button?”

You turn around, exposing the deep, plunging back to Quinn. When he catches sight of your exposed back, you swear you hear him let out a whimper. His calloused fingers brush against your back, attaching the button. The sensation of his lips pressing a light kiss to the back of your neck sends goosebumps all over.

“All done,” he says in a breathy voice.

As you turn to face him, your heart skips a beat, taking in the intensity in his eyes. There’s a simmering hunger in his gaze like he's seeing you in an entirely new light and savoring every inch of the view. For a moment, his fingertips linger on your bare shoulder, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and the subtle scent of his cologne fills the air around you. The magnetism between you is undeniable, making it easy to get lost in the moment.

Quinn’s eyes drift from yours to your plump, gloss-covered lips, then back up to meet your gaze, smoldering and almost pleading. You feel the tension between you both rise, quiet electricity sparking in the space between your bodies, drawing you closer. He leans in, lips barely grazing your ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You sure we have to go to dinner?”

The way he says it makes your heart race, a low hum of excitement settling in your stomach. He’s looking at you as though dinner could wait, as though the evening he planned so meticulously is suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. You manage a playful smile, resting your hands on his chest and pressing back ever so slightly to keep a sliver of space between you.

“Quinn,” you whisper, forcing a bit of composure back into your voice. “I don’t even want to know what you had to do to get a reservation at Riley’s. And if we don’t leave now, we’re going to miss our reservation.”

He lets out a soft groan, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Fine, but only because I’ve waited long enough for this night.” His hands slowly fall from your shoulders, lingering a moment longer than they need to. He takes a step back, slipping one hand into yours, as if reluctant to let you out of his grasp even for a second.

Hand in hand, you head to the car, the cool evening air a gentle contrast to the warm intimacy that still lingers from Quinn’s touch. He opens the passenger door for you, his eyes never leaving you as you slide into the seat. He closes the door softly, circling around to the driver's side.

Once he’s settled in and starts the car, his hand immediately finds yours, fingers interlocking as he gives you a quick, admiring glance. You feel his eyes linger, that same look of reverence and wonder as he takes in the sight of you beside him.

“Eyes on the road, Mr. Romantic,” you tease gently, squeezing his hand.

He laughs, but there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. “It’s a little hard to focus when you look like that,” he admits. “That dress was practically designed to distract me.”

You shake your head, though you can’t deny how his words send a thrill through you. He’s still sneaking glances, unable to help himself, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of your hand as he drives.

As you arrive at Riley’s, you’re greeted with the soft glow of candlelight spilling from the windows, the gentle hum of jazz drifting into the night air. The restaurant is elegant in a timeless way, with dim lighting and warm wooden accents that create an intimate, welcoming atmosphere. Quinn helps you out of the car, his hand finding the small of your back as he guides you through the grand entrance, where the maître d’ greets you with a polite nod.

“Right this way, Mr. Hughes,” she says with a warm smile, as though she too knows how special this night is. You’re led to a private corner booth tucked away from the rest of the tables. A single candle rests in the center, casting a warm glow across the table.

Quinn pulls your chair out for you, his hand grazing your shoulder as you sit. His gaze never leaves yours as he settles across from you, his expression one of barely contained awe. “I wasn’t exaggerating before,” he says softly, leaning in. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

You feel your cheeks heat under his intense gaze, and you find yourself smiling, eyes twinkling as you return the compliment. “And you look incredible too, Quinn. That suit… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so good.”

A waiter approaches, and Quinn orders a bottle of wine, one you remember J.T. Miller suggesting the two of you try if you’re willing to shell out a bit of money on a bottle. As the bottle arrives and the wine is poured, Quinn raises his glass to you, his eyes catching the candlelight.

“To you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“To us,” you correct. You clink glasses, each sip bringing a pleasant buzz that only heightens the already electrifying atmosphere.

For a while, your conversation is playful and light. You talk about little things — reminiscing over memories that make you laugh, filling in each other on anecdotes that got lost in your busy lives. Quinn leans in, his attention unwavering, absorbing every word with a soft, amused grin. Every facet of him is distracting to you - the way his fingers play with the stem of his wine glass, how he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth when he listens so intently to you telling a story, and the unmissable gleam in his eye when he looks at you.

You each glance half-heartedly at the menu, but quickly abandon it, unable to tear your focus away from each other. The conversation flows with a surprising ease, touching on topics deep and trivial. He confides how strange it felt to find the perfect suit, mentioning how he asked Jack if it was too much. You smile, knowing how important tonight must be for him to fuss over something like that.

“I can't tell you how good it feels to finally be here with you. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” His expression shifts, his normally relaxed face showing traces of the stress that he’s been carrying.

“I know,” you say, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “It feels like every time we tried to plan something, something would get in the way. Between your games, my projects…”

He lets out a long breath and gives a slight nod. “Yeah, it’s just been so much with the season, and all I’ve wanted is a night like this. Just you and me.” His eyes soften, and you feel his hand give yours a soft squeeze, grounding both of you at this moment. “Games have been intense lately. And I love it, but… I miss you,” he confesses, his voice almost whispering.

Your heart swells at his honesty. You can see the weariness in him, but there's also a kind of vulnerable tenderness in the way he’s looking at you now. “I miss you, too. But I’m really proud of you, Quinn. I see how much you put into it.”

He smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before flicking back up to your eyes, his expression soft yet intent. “That means a lot to me, more than you know.” He leans in just slightly, a private, mischievous grin slipping onto his face. “But honestly, right now? All I want is to be with you. Just us.”

“Well,” you reply, leaning closer to Quinn. “Here we are. Just the two of us.”

His thumb traces slow, deliberate circles on your wrist, sending sparks up your arm. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “Exactly where I want to be.” His eyes drop to the faint glow of the candlelight on your face, and he seems to lose himself in the view.

But the tender moment is interrupted as the waiter returns to take your orders. Reluctantly, Quinn tears his gaze from you, giving his order in a tone that is a bit rushed. You can’t help but smile at his eagerness as you place your own order, stealing glances at him. The waiter leaves, and a comfortable silence settles over you both, the soft jazz music a fitting backdrop to the intimacy between you.

Quinn leans forward, elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced as he studies you again. “I know we’ve been waiting for a night out for forever but…” His voice dips into a quiet murmur, like he’s sharing a secret, “If you told me we could just go home right now, I wouldn’t even blink.”

You laugh, shaking your head slightly, but there’s a warm blush in your cheeks at his words. “Quinn Hughes, you’re telling me you’re willing to give up the table that you pulled some serious strings to get, all because you don’t know if you can keep it in your pants?”

“Yes, exactly that,” he says without missing a beat, his expression growing serious. “Do you know how hard it is to just sit here with you in that dress and keep my hands to myself?”

The boldness in his voice takes you by surprise, and it sends a thrill through you. His words are a reminder of the magnetic pull between you, one that hasn’t faded since the beginning of your relationship. A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “You know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I’d almost believe you didn’t want this night as much as I did.”

Quinn reaches across the table, capturing your hand in his as his thumb glides over your skin, the touch featherlight yet stirring. “Trust me,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity, “I want tonight. Every part of it. But right now, it’s taking everything I have not to pull you out of here and make you mine before our food gets here.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his voice, the raw honesty in his words unraveling you. The ambiance of the restaurant fades into the background; it’s as if the two of you are in a world of your own, insulated by shared desire and the gravity of this long-awaited moment.

You lean forward, your eyes locked onto his with equal fervor. “I guess we could always… take the food to go,” you whisper, testing the waters.

A glimmer of excitement flashes in his gaze. “Are you serious?” he asks, barely able to keep his voice steady, as though the thought alone is almost too good to believe.

Your fingers trace slow patterns over the top of his hand. “Quinn, this night is already perfect… you went above and beyond to make it perfect. But, truth be told, we could’ve just ordered Chinese food and I would have been just as happy. I just want to be with you”

Quinn signals for the waitress, quickly requesting the check and your ordered meals in boxes with a smoothness that belies the fire simmering beneath his calm exterior. He leans over and gives her a charming but hurried excuse about needing to leave for a family matter, handing over his card before she can even respond. The minutes it takes to process feel like an eternity, but Quinn’s hand rests over yours, grounding you in the electric silence shared between you.

Finally, the waitress returns, and he leaves a generous tip before helping you to your feet. You weave through the restaurant together, stealing glances and half-hidden smiles, every step charged with anticipation.

Outside, the city air hits cool and refreshing, but the chill is quickly forgotten as Quinn’s hand finds its familiar place on your thigh once you’re seated in the car. His fingers trail subtle, teasing patterns that have your pulse racing, yet he maintains a sense of composure, his gaze focused forward as he drives the short distance back to your place. You both sense the unspoken thrill of getting back as quickly as possible, yet his hand remains on you, tethering you to the rising tension.

When he finally pulls into the driveway, neither of you wastes a moment. The world outside becomes a blur as you make your way up the steps to the front door, his lips already brushing against your neck as you struggle with the key. By the time you stumble through the door, his mouth finds yours, and the soft click of the door closing behind you is drowned out by the rush of your heartbeat.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks #qh43 #`✦ˑ ✒️ 𓂃⊹ my works

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moonstruckme · 27 days ago

Note

hello mae! you said that you’re tentatively thinking about doing poly! jily? how about them x shy!reader who is used to spending holidays alone but now that she’s in a relationship, James and Lily wanna give her experiences of like carving pumpkins, baking cookies, or something like that.

just cute and domestic fall activities!! I hope that’s enough.

Thank you for requesting lovely!

poly!Jily x shy!reader ♡ 845 words

You smile, and James plants his lips on your cheek just before the flash.

“Perfect,” Lily says while the camera whirs. She takes the photo it spits out, going to stow it in a shady corner of the porch.

“Now one with you,” James urges.

“No.” Lily waves him off as you second James’ request. “How would we get all of us and our pumpkins in it?”

“James has long arms,” you say.

"Yeah, Evans." James grabs you roughly around the shoulders, making your face heat even as you smile. "I have long arms. Give it here."

After some debate Lily hands over the camera. James holds it out as far as he can, waiting until you’re all holding up your jack-o-lanterns before pressing the button.

It goes beside the other photo, waiting for the film to develop. You know as soon as it does, both photos will be clustered in with the others on James and Lily’s fridge, held up by magnets beginning to lose their strength under the weight of so many. Lily has always liked to take pictures, and ever since you got together she’s been cramming ones of you into every empty space. This relationship is relatively new for you, and most days you’re still trying to figure out where you fit, but Lily and James do everything to make you feel welcome. In a million tiny ways, they show you all the time that they care just as much for you as they do for each other.

James looks between your pumpkins pridefully. “Whose do we think turned out the best?”

“Lily’s,” you say at the same time as Lily says, “Mine.”

James’ mouth falls open. “Mine was good too!”

“Sorry, Jamie.” You give his shoulder a consoling pat. “Hers is just better.”

The fact of the matter is, your girlfriend was simply patient where you and James were not. She outlined her jack-o-lantern’s face beforehand in marker, used a small knife to achieve the curvatures of one heart-shaped eye and one winking one, and took the time to make the edges of her cuts look nice and clean. James and you, however, tried to freehand things with much larger knives; it had not gone quite so well.

“I think there should be points for creativity,” says James, frowning at his botched pumpkin. He’d tried to give it round eyes, and in the process accidentally cut more than he meant to. The result is jagged and vaguely upsetting, so eventually he decided it was an ill pumpkin and trailed its entrails out of its mouth so it looks like it’s vomiting pumpkin guts.

“It was a very creative solution,” Lily tells James. And to you, “You did really well for your first time, too, sweetheart.”

You snort. Yours is nearly as bad as James’. Both of your partners had to show you how to saw through the pumpkin flesh more than once to keep you from yanking the knife out and stabbing yourself. After many tutorials, you’d managed two triangle-shaped eyes, but the teeth you’d tried to put in your jack-o-lantern’s mouth had fallen out, so now it just looks like a rather simplistic, very upbeat face.

“You did,” Lily insists, but she’s repressing a laugh too as she looks down at your pumpkin. “It’s cute.”

“It looks like something a five-year-old could have done,” you acknowledge.

“You and a five-year-old have about the same amount of experience carving pumpkins, so that’s not really so bad,” says James. He reaches for the polaroids Lily took. “Let’s see how these turned out.”

“James Potter,” Lily’s voice goes sharp, “don’t you dare touch those with your slimy hands.”

“Okay, alright.” James holds his hands up in the air. He stands instead, backing away slowly like Lily has him at gunpoint. “C’mon, lovie, let’s go fish the seeds out in the sink.”

“What for?” you ask, following him as he carries your large bowl of pumpkin entrails inside.

“If you separate the seeds and roast them, you can eat them.” James raises his eyebrows at you. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had pumpkin seeds before.”

“Nope.”

“Ugh. You poor, deprived girl.” James takes your face in his hands, and you smile despite the slick feeling of his pumpkin-y fingers on your cheeks. His eyebrows scrunch pityingly as he kisses above your nose. “We’ll right that wrong today, sweetheart, don’t you worry.”

“You haven’t been missing out on much,” Lily says, slipping past the two of you with your photos. She wedges them underneath a magnet on the fridge. “It’s a lot of effort for a snack.”

“She only says that because she can’t stand the guts,” James tells you conspiratorially.

“Really?” You mash your hands into the stringy pumpkin bits. “I kind of like them.”

Lily makes a face. “They’re all slimy and weird. And sticky.”

“Wimp,” James teases.

“You’ve just called them guts, James. In what world does that sound appealing?”

“Angel,” James says in a quiet voice, “you’ll protect me, won’t you?”

You frown at him. “Why?”

He picks up a small mass of pumpkin guts and lobs it at your girlfriend.

“James!”

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queensunshinee · 10 days ago

Text

Wreck my plans || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, fingering), drinking, family drama, very slow burn, maybe too slow, I really don't know what's going on here

Word Count: 8.5k

Wreck my plans

Parties were never your thing. Parties are Jenny's thing. But she went away for the weekend with two friends from Harvard and didn’t even think to invite you. So Jenny can go to hell. And you can go to the party.

Luke Thompson's house is huge, and it doesn’t surprise you since you've spent two evenings a week here over the past few months trying to teach him algebra and literature. He had to repeat senior year after his complete failure last year. The party was in celebration of him finally getting his diploma and being accepted to a local college nearby.

"Little (Y/L/N)!" he shouted, spreading his arms wide, inviting you for a hug. "The only reason I managed to finish school," he added, yelling, making you roll your eyes. "You’re the only reason you managed to finish school, Luke," you said, taking a step back. "To be honest, I didn’t think you’d come," he looked around, causing you to do the same and start recognizing familiar faces from your grade and the one above you (Jenny’s). "I've never seen you at a party before." "I've been to parties. we just don’t hang out with the same people," you said as the two of you moved towards the kitchen so you could grab a drink.

The conversation continued for a few more minutes, but your attention drifted to the blond guy in the kitchen- Art Donaldson. Dressed in a pink button-down shirt and jeans, holding a red cup just like the one Luke put in your hand, drinking the same warm beer you're drinking. You hadn’t thought about him for almost a year. Your gaze wandered from him to the living room, where you saw Dave flirting with someone you couldn’t identify, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at the scene. You tried to listen to Luke for a few more moments because it felt like the polite thing to do, but you lost interest, and, like a magnet, your eyes were drawn back to Art Donaldson, who was busy looking you over from head to toe. You wonder if it made you blush or if it's just the cheap alcohol. You left the kitchen with a certain sense of saturation, looking for people you actually enjoyed being around more than Luke, who, as nice as he was, was too sociable for your taste. Tried too hard. You also try hard, mostly to stay out of everyone’s way.

You ended the evening with Chloe and Ron- ironically, friends of Jenny's, since Lia refused to come. They asked about Jenny and told you about their college experiences. Ron finished his first year at Yale, and Chloe went to a local college not far from here. Maybe it’s time to go home, as you feel like you’re suffocating and the place is closing in on you. The thought of staying close, like Chloe, to this suburb made your stomach turn. Chloe loved it, though. She didn’t see anything wrong with it. She planned her life right here. Just like this.

"Can I sit?" A familiar voice stood above you as you stared at Luke’s pool. A few people were in the far corner of it, but otherwise, the yard was empty. You shrugged without saying anything as Art sat down. He took off his shoes and folded up his jeans a bit, dipping his feet into the pool- something you hadn’t even thought to do. You looked at him for a moment as he took another sip from the drink in his hand. He’s probably the most handsome guy you know- a childish thought that’s crossed your mind since you were young, since you remember him. Blond with eyes that could make stars feel embarrassed with how they shine. There’s nothing ordinary about him. He’s exceptional. You don’t think there’s any girl your age who’s known him and hasn’t had a crush on him, at least for a moment.

"Congratulations on finishing school. I heard you’re the reason Luke can celebrate," he said casually, looking at you and causing you to turn your gaze back to the pool in a split second. "He really needs to stop telling people that," you replied, hearing him chuckle. "How was your first year in college? Stanford, right?" you asked, trying to shift the focus from yourself to him. "Yeah, tennis, you know. It’s nice. I’m supposed to choose a major next semester. My mom wants me to pick business management. I’m considering sports management," he said offhandedly, as if it weren’t too personal. As if this wasn’t the longest conversation you’d had since kindergarten. "Then you have to choose sports, of course," you said quickly. "Sorry, it’s none of my business," you added just as fast, realizing you’d stepped into his complicated relationship with his mom. "If only it were that easy, huh?" he chuckled. "To choose what I want," he added.

At that moment, Art Donaldson had no idea that what he was saying touched the deepest parts of your heart, nearly crushing it. Stroking an open wound without knowing the area was sensitive. Jenny decided at the last moment that she didn’t want to study at Yale and preferred Harvard, which meant financially you couldn’t study out of state. It would just be too much. And it surprised no one that you were the one who had to give up your dream. It surprised no one, because Jenny was the first to decide, and you received the scraps of something that might have been hers. Like wearing an old shirt, she no longer wanted. It’s never the other way around.

"Aren’t you planning to go pro?" you asked after a few seconds, trying to shake off the emotions flooding you. "I’m not sure yet, my mom really wants me to finish my degree," he explained, taking another sip. "Patrick’s really suffering on his tour. don’t tell him I told you that." He added information you hadn’t asked for. As if you were in daily contact with Patrick Zweig. As if you’d ever exchanged a word with him. You only know Jenny slept with him a few times, but it’s not something you two talk about, so whatever. "I’m going to Wesleyan," you said suddenly and looked at him; his gaze was already on you. "Damn," he smiled a half-smile, and maybe it was the first time you’d felt a certain pride since you applied there. "Jenny went to Harvard, so it’s complicated for both of us to study out of state, you know how it is," you felt the need to explain the situation, even though he hadn’t asked, and he certainly didn’t know how it is. "It’s a good school tho, I’m glad I got in," you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince, but he furrowed his brows as if he didn’t believe it, as if he had something to say about it. But he kept it to himself, and you appreciated that.

"I have to say, distancing myself from Jenny (Y/L/N) was one of the best things that’s happened to me since I left," everyone knew about Art and Jenny's relationship. They couldn’t stand each other. They competed in every possible subject. From student council to tennis. You don’t think Jenny even likes tennis. She just likes the first place. And without realizing it, you laughed, which a good sister shouldn’t do, but you felt it too. Distancing yourself from Jenny was a relief. The difference is that you’re not allowed to say that out loud, and Art Donaldson doesn’t really care. He doesn’t need to be at family dinners during holidays.

You looked at him for another second and thought this could be a good moment to kiss him. It was as if he hadn’t taken his eyes off you for a second since he sat down. You could lean in a little and press your lips to his. It’s not like you’d see him much again. You wouldn’t see him at all and in six weeks, you will move into the dorms in college. and in few years, maybe after school, he’d probably be a professional tennis player or a lawyer or the president. You think you can picture him as the president. You'd vote for him. "Well, it was nice seeing you, (Y/N)," he smiled another one of his captivating smiles. "Talk to me if you ever find yourself in California," he gave a small nod, grabbed his shoes, and walked away. Maybe one day you’ll manage to actually do something you really want to do. . . . You regretted what you did about three minutes after you politely turned down the full scholarship to Wesleyan. and accepted what they offered you at Stanford. But in your defense, it was late at night, you’d just come back from Luke’s party very tipsy, and you had no real intention of talking to Art when you got to California. You’d never seen your parents so angry. Your mom cried. Your dad said you were inconsiderate. Jenny sat on the couch, watching you with a raised eyebrow. They said they wouldn’t pay for anything, that if you made this decision, you’d have to deal with the consequences. The scholarship covered your tuition, but for housing and books, you’d have to use your savings. Two jobs you picked up over the summer and a part-time job you’d had for three years of babysitting. They didn’t speak to you for weeks. From the moment you told them, all communication between you went through Jenny.

"Tell her dinner’s ready," "Tell her to go down and buy eggs," "Tell her Uncle Barry’s coming over tonight, to act like she still cares about this family."

"They'll come around," Jenny mumbled when she climbed into your bed one of those warm August nights. "I don’t know," you answered with your eyes closed, exhausted from the day at work and the hostility you returned to at home. "I know," she concluded. In the morning, you woke up alone.

You think they’ll never forgive you. Maybe you’ll never forgive them. But you don’t know. . . . The empty bed in your dorm was beneath the window. You didn’t complain for a moment because everything could have been much worse. Jenny bought you the flight ticket to California for your birthday. You cried. You remembered that small moment when Art said he was glad to be away from her and you giggled, not defending your sister. She’s not to blame for being born first. She’s not to blame for needing more attention. Her intentions are good. That should be the only thing that matters.

You only met Billie in the evening when she came back from what she described as a date. She spoke about 50 words a minute, so it was hard to follow. She asked why you came a week late, you wanted to say that you were on time and she came early, but all you managed to get out was "work." It wasn’t a lie. You worked at a camp and an ice cream parlor all summer, trying to save as much as you could because you didn’t know how long it would take to find a job near the university. Turns out, very quickly. The diner across from the university was looking for waiters, and you showed up without experience but with a convincing smile and some recommendations from previous employers, as if anyone cared that you were great with kids. Three shifts a week, and the savings would help you keep your head above water. That’s all you need.

A week after you arrived at the dorms, Billie and Summer, your roommates, forced you to go with them to a party. And it wasn’t too hard to convince you because you weren’t at home. And sometimes, you need to remind yourself that you at home isn’t the same you who’s at Stanford. Here, no one knows you or Jenny. No one expects anything from you, no one will call you "Little (Y/L/N)." Here, you are whoever you choose to be. And that’s enough. Enough to wear almost burgundy lipstick and a tight dress, but still sneakers. After all, something of you stays the same.

Someone named Dean hit on you most of the night, and Billie told him you had a boyfriend. "Babe, anyone but Dean. I’ve been here two weeks, and he’s slept with the entire building already," she whispered in your ear, and you laughed. Someone else hit on you during the night, but you didn’t remember his name. When you lay in bed, you tried calling Jenny to tell her about your night, but she didn’t answer. And maybe that’s okay. . . . The first time you saw Art at Stanford, he was the one who actually saw you. "(Y/n)?" He lifted his sunglasses to his hair. He wore a Stanford T-shirt and pants that made you wonder if they were also Stanford coded. He had a racket bag over his shoulder. He looked confused. "Hey," you didn’t know what to say as you leaned against the only free tree you could find and tried to read one of the books from your syllabus, preparing for your first class. "Hey?" He almost chuckled as he sat down next to you, not taking his eyes off you. Like you’d disappear the second he blinked. He didn’t seem disappointed by your presence. "Shit, I was joking about California," he looked amused, still studying you. He took the book you were reading, like it was his, ran a hand over the cover. Like he knew everything he needed to know about the course just by looking at it. "Stanford was on my list, and it just felt more right," you tried to justify, to explain that it wasn’t because of him. He didn’t think it was because of him tho, not really. "How did they take it?" he asked, probably remembering details from your conversation at the party. "I don’t know, because they’re not talking to me," you said it in the same casual tone, like it didn’t bother you. "Damn," he muttered, "that bad?" he asked. "It’s whatever," you shrugged. "I’ve got to get to class, but I’ll see you around, yeah?" He stood up and walked away. You didn’t know if you’d actually see him around again, but the interaction had been nice. You think that maybe Art Donaldson won’t judge you. And that’s an interesting thought. . . . The next time you see him, you're in the middle of a shift, wearing a ridiculous apron and a ponytail that makes your hair look greasy. Needless to say, you’re embarrassed, but he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal. He says hello, which is surprising because he’s with friends, and you look, well…ridiculous. You say hello back, because you’re polite, and it’s the right thing to do. They sit down at one of the tables, and you hear his voice from a distance saying, “I know her from back home.” You think it’s a half-accurate description, because you don’t really know each other- not like he knows Patrick Zweig or Luke. Not like he knows Jenny. You also think the girl sitting next to him is very pretty. Pretty enough to hate her, but nice enough not to.

Casually, before they leave the diner, Art asks if you're going to a party someone in his dorm is throwing. You shrug in response because you hadn’t heard about it until now. “It’ll be fun, you should come,” he calls out, mentioning the building he lives in before he leaves with his friends. He didn’t have to invite you. He doesn’t have to invite you to places. You’re not his responsibility. You don’t want him to think you are. You don’t know if you’ll go. . . . When you received the email from the registrar notifying you that your account had already been paid and that there was no need for the duplicate payment you’d tried to make, you found yourself confused. When you realized your parents had paid the bill despite saying they wouldn’t, you ended up crying for two hours. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. They haven’t spoken to you in almost three months. They let you stew in guilt but are willing to pay your bills? It’s ridiculous. None of them answered when you tried to call to say thank you. You cried for another hour. 'Busy. Do you need anything?' -Jenny-

You think you need a hug. But that feels childish, so you send her an orange heart emoji. . . . You go to the party Art invited you to with Billie and Summer because, why not? You don’t mention that you got an invitation, just casually say you heard there’s a party and that it might be fun to check it out.

You decide to put on the dark lipstick again, you liked how it looked last time, and honestly, the feedback was great. This time, you stick with a thin shirt, ripped tights, and shorts- keeping it low-effort was part of the actual effort. You think it’s silly. But you look cute, so fuck it.

Art spots you before you notice him again. He comes up to you in the middle of a conversation, gently swiping the beer bottle from your hand, making you look at him as he takes a sip and hands it back. “You’re the hot guy from the posters,” Billie says shamelessly, looking straight at him. “Art,” he chuckles, introducing himself, making you roll your eyes. “Mind if I steal her for a bit?” He asks permission, which is ridiculous and funny, making you feel embarrassed as he hands you back the beer and leads you to another corner of the apartment by your other hand.

“Hey,” he says, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Hey,” you reply with staged nonchalance. “You look good,” you add, because it’s true. The few times you’d seen him on campus, he was in Stanford sports gear. Seeing him again in a button-down and jeans felt like a privilege. “That’s what I’ve heard,” he responds, referencing Billie’s comment from a few minutes ago, taking the beer from you again. Maybe it’s over the top, sharing the same bottle. It’s relatively intimate for two people who don’t actually know each other.

One of his friends comes over and starts talking to Art about tennis, his gaze lingering on you. You wonder if Art realizes he’s standing closer to you in a slightly possessive way. That his hand is lightly brushing yours, that he keeps taking the bottle from you to drink from it, openly displaying that sense of intimacy.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You’re not sure where the courage to ask came from. Maybe it’s the tequila shots you took with Billie and Summer before heading out to the party. Maybe it’s the joint you passed between each other. But Art looks amused as he nods. You catch Summer out of the corner of your eye, giving you a thumbs-up and making exaggerated kissy faces. If Art saw her doing it, he didn’t say anything. The contrast between the noise in the building and the quiet outside surprises you. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but you hoped he’d say something by now. He seemed to be enjoying himself too much to talk. “Want to head to the lake?” he suddenly asked, though you were already walking that way. You hadn’t actually been there yet, but you didn’t want to reveal that you didn’t know the area that well.

“Hey, give me your phone,” you said, stopping in your tracks. He stopped too, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “So bossy,” he muttered with his signature smirk, but you entered your number and sent yourself a flower emoji so you could save his number later. When you reached the lake, it almost took your breath away. It looked like something out of a movie. You know it sounds like a cliché, but it really was like that- like an old movie, but not too old. The moon reflected off the lake, and a few people were sitting on the grass nearby. You sat on a table instead of the bench next to it. Art raised an eyebrow at the choice but shook his head like you’d done something funny.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, looking at you as if confessing a secret. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” You knew that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he laughed anyway. He sat on the bench below you, between your legs. You felt as if you had some kind of power. Your hand automatically moved through his curls. You thought about apologizing but decided not to. “How are you?” he asked. “I’m okay, I think. How are you?” you tossed the question back at him. “Seriously, how are you?” His fingers brushed over yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “With your parents and everything?” he added. “I’m fine,” you replied. You didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t push as much as you expected. His hand squeezed yours for a moment, as if he had more to say. Instead, he nodded and stood up, starting to walk with you just behind him.

You're walking alongside the lake, wondering if this path has an end, or if you even want it to. You think you might feel those butterflies in your stomach. "Do you know my first memory of you?" he asks suddenly, and you’re surprised. Part of you doesn’t want to know. It’s probably related to Jenny. Art has so many memories of Jenny, and they’re all negative. Deep down, you hope he doesn't remember you as this girl being attached at her hip. "The day after my dad's funeral, you gave me a daisy you picked from someone’s garden." He chuckles, but it sounds bitter. You don’t remember this. You do remember, though, that for years, until you both drifted and each found your own group of friends—he called you "Daisy." You never knew why. "Oh." You don’t know what to say, so that’s what comes out a bit pathetic. "I didn’t even know it was a daisy, if the story details matter," you try to lighten things up. "I asked my grandmother," he says, and the two of you chuckle. "That’s why you called me Daisy for three years straight?" you ask. "God. Why do you remember that?" He puts a hand over his face, as if he’s embarrassed or something. "I thought maybe you didn’t know my name, and since I was Jenny’s sister, you just rolled with it." You laugh. "It suited you, Daisy," he says, and his hand moves your hair behind your ear. This isn’t the first time he’s done that, but this time he also looks at your lips. You feel like he’s looking at your soul if that's even possible.

"I really wanted to kiss you at Luke's party," you admit, because it feels like the right moment. "Oh yeah? So why didn’t you kiss me?" he asks, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. "I’ve wanted to do it since eighth grade, and then I had the chance and didn't know what to do" You look at him. His smile is still plastered across his face, and you wish he wasn’t so smug all the time. "Maybe I wanted you to kiss me at Luke's party," he says, almost ignoring what you just said. "Little Daisy, sitting by the pool alone. Maybe I approached you with intent? Maybe I was goi-" You don’t give him the satisfaction of finishing his sentence, as you crash your lips onto his like you’re possessed. His smile lingers for a few moments. His hands pull you closer to him as he presses you back against a light pole you didn’t know was behind you.

Art Donaldson is a good kisser. No one can take that from him. He’s an amazing kisser. His tongue is way too skilled. His hands have found their way under your shirt as if that’s their natural place. His lips move perfectly in sync with yours, and when you both pause to catch your breath, he presses his forehead against yours. He places small kisses on your cheek, then on your neck, and only when you lean your head back and bump into the pole do you remember that you’re in a public space. People could see you. This is not your style. "Okay, we’re good," you tap his chest lightly, making him laugh the most delightful laugh you’ve ever heard. "Is this everything you dreamed of before starting high school?" he asks, planting another small kiss on your cheek, as if he just can’t help himself or something. "I didn’t dream about kisses like this, Donaldson." You roll your eyes, thinking it’s pretty ridiculous that you’re smiling right now.

When you reach your dorm, you wonder if you should invite him in. You think he’d say yes. But you also think there’s something beautiful about leaving the night as it is- two people who used to know each other, kissing by a lake. He gives you a small kiss and takes out his phone as he turns to leave, while you head inside, unable to resist leaning against the door.

'Since eighth grade, huh?' -Unknown Number-

'Shut up.' -(Y/N)-

He replies with a flower emoji. You think the intention is daisy. Maybe you’re overthinking it. . . . You don’t expect Art to text you the next morning. You had that night together; it was great, and maybe it was exactly what you needed to get him out of your system. Maybe it was what you needed to finally move on from that endless crush on Art Donaldson. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed when he didn’t reach out at all, as if he’d disappeared from the face of the earth. But that’s probably fine. He doesn’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe him. You each have your own lives at Stanford. You’re trying to juggle work and studies. You’re supposed to submit a thirty-page paper after Thanksgiving, and you’ve only written three. Clearly, you have enough to keep you busy.

Your mom called a few days ago, and you cried. Because you hadn’t really talked in almost four months. She said Jenny convinced her. It’s kind of messed up, but you don’t say that. You’re just glad someone convinced her. You’ve been thinking a lot lately about how strange it is- how you never behaved outside of what was expected of you, and the one time you did, they reacted as if you’d committed a crime. You think about it even when you’re trying not to think about it. Your mom asked if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving. You said no. You wonder if it made her sad only after you hung up. . . . The next time you see Art, he’s flirting with a redhead at a Thanksgiving party Summer convinced you to attend. Honestly, you could’ve skipped this party, but Summer said she wanted the girl who invited her there. So you bit your tongue and told her you’d meet her there, because that’s what friends do.

It’s easy to tell when Art is flirting; it’s basically exaggerated hand gestures and a level of closeness he’s never tried with you. You’ve seen him in action before. You try not to stare, because it doesn’t really matter. Instead, you look for Summer, who’s on the opposite side of the room, directly in Art’s line of sight. It makes you smile, knowing he’ll see that you’re here. You’ve decided you’re going to ignore him. You made that decision when you passed by him on your way to Summer, feeling his eyes on you but not meeting his gaze.

When Summer slips away to sit with Caitlin -the girl she’s interested in- a guy you don’t recognize approaches you. He introduces himself and offers you a drink. You politely decline, you’re smarter than to accept punch from a complete stranger. He’s nice, but standing a little too close for your comfort. He leans over you, and you feel a bit trapped between him and the wall you’re leaning against. You could walk away, of course, but the whole situation feels uncomfortable. You wonder where Summer is, unable to see her in the crowd.

"Don’t you think you’re a bit too close?" Art’s voice is firm and unyielding as he positions himself next to you, raising an eyebrow at the guy. "Sorry, man, thought she was single," he says, disappearing like he was never there. Neither of you bother to correct him about the two of you not actually being together. You roll your eyes at Art and head toward the kitchen, feeling his steps following behind. You spot Summer with Caitlin on one of the couches, and she gives you a nod, signaling that she’s fine and that you’re free to leave if you want. "Hey, you didn’t go home," he says behind you, as if everything is normal. "Quite the observation, Donaldson," you say, knowing you’re being mean. But, fuck it, he deserves it. You grab a beer from the kitchen and head outside, with him trailing beside you. "You’re mad at me because I didn’t text you," he sighs, prompting you to stop and raise an eyebrow at him. "You really think you’re something special, huh?" Maybe a bit too harsh, but it’s all you’ve got right now. "I don’t think I’m anything special. I just didn’t know what to say." He sighs again as you start walking away from the building. "It was a good night. I didn’t want to ruin it, you know?" You think he sounds almost shy. His voice is softer than usual, and you remind yourself that you also labeled that night as a good one, as a nice experience you didn’t want to spoil. So maybe it’s unfair to be angry- after all, you could have reached out to him, too. But what would you have even said? The three weeks since then passed quickly, and most of the time, you didn’t think about him at all. So it’s fine. Everything’s really fine.

"It’s ok, Donaldson, I wasn’t sitting by the phone waiting for a message from you. You can let it go," you sum up, trying to sound amused and light-hearted, though it comes out a bit too bitter for your liking. "So why didn’t you go home?" he asks, changing the subject. "I’m working." You shrug. He raises an eyebrow, like someone who knows that’s not the whole truth but also understands he’s treading on thin ice right now and shouldn’t push for more. "Why didn’t you go?" you throw the question back at him, trying to show him that it’s all good. "I’ve got a match tomorrow, plus my mom doesn’t really care," he replies, and you nod, understanding a bit of what he means. You knew his mom- she always struck you as the coldest person in the world. "What are you doing at a party if you have a match tomorrow?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, wondering if it’s too harsh, because you’re trying to steer the conversation onto calmer ground. "It’s in the afternoon," he shrugs. "You don’t have to walk with me, my dorms are really close," you say after a few moments of silence. "We’re good? We're friends and you’re not mad at me anymore, right, Daisy?" he asks, nudging his shoulder against yours. You roll your eyes at the silly nickname, but you don’t find it in yourself to correct him.

"We’re good," you conclude, walking into your building, leaving him behind. . . . The next day, you decide to go to his game after your shift, only to find out that Patrick fucking Zweig is also sitting in the small crowd. Most of the students eager to see Stanford’s star in action probably love their families more and decided to go home. You sat far from Patrick, but it didn’t stop him from giving you a puzzled look as he whispered something to the girl sitting next to him, who was fully focused on Art's game. You remembered her from the diner the other day. She’s beautiful.

Art won to the applause of the crowd that stayed to watch until the end. Two hours of the ball going back and forth and sounds that were almost erotic. Whatever. You consider heading back to your dorm without saying anything just to avoid talking to Patrick. But Art smiles at you and gives a small wave, so you know there's no way to get out of at least saying hello. You need to suck it up. “Congratulations, Donaldson,” you mumble, and he gives you the smuggest smile he can find. “Little (Y/L/N), long time,” Patrick says to you with half-loudness. He doesn’t say anything bad, but you shrink a little. Trying to remember the last time someone called you that. Probably at Luke's party. Art looks at you with an apologetic look as if he knows. He probably doesn’t know. But that's okay. “How’s the tour?” you ask politely because it’s the right thing to do. “Good, good,” he says, shifting his gaze from you to Art and back to you. Like a man with a plan. “Want to have dinner with us?” he asks. In any other situation, you’d laugh, because the odds of you sitting at the same table with Patrick Zweig would be slim, especially considering his history with Jenny. “I wish, but I have a paper due in a few days, and I really have to work on it. Maybe next time,” you smile the most genuine smile you can find and quickly move away.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me Little (Y/L/N) was here,” you hear Patrick laugh. “Shut up, Patrick,” you’re almost sure you heard Art reply.

'You wish?' -Art Donaldson- He sent it half an hour later when you were already sitting at your computer with a cup of coffee in hand.

You turned off your phone. You need to focus. . . . Art came to your work far more often than you expected. He probably tried every dish on the menu, including the pancakes with the “secret” sauce that you suspect is just chocolate mixed with overly sticky jam. He sometimes studied there or came with his friends. He talked to you but not too much, and you texted each other from time to time. Were you friends? It felt strange to think that Art Donaldson and you were friends- not because he wasn’t someone you’d want to call a friend, but because you’d finally let go of the idea of him as someone out of reach.

One day, when he walked you home, he asked why you took on a fourth shift, since you usually didn’t work Mondays. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Donaldson?” you asked with a half-smile. “Daisy,” he sighed, as if you were being ridiculous, even though he was the one who knew your schedule and which days you didn’t usually work. “I’m saving up for a ticket home for the holidays, so,” you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “You haven’t bought a ticket yet?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “I’m buying it myself, so it’s taking me a minute.” Your parents had made it very clear they were only paying for your dorm. You bought your own books, and you had to cover your own flights. You didn’t look at him when you said it, afraid he might judge you- even if it was silly.

He stopped and looked at you. “That’s fucked up, (Y/N).” Whenever Art said your name like that recently, you knew he was serious, and that the conversation was drifting somewhere too deep. Like the time you talked about his grandmother, or his dad. “It is what it is,” you replied, continuing to walk, hoping he would keep walking too. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that they bought Jenny her train ticket. You didn’t want to dwell on the thought that even if it was cheaper, no one made her feel guilty for the only choice she’d ever made in her life. “I could get you a ticket,” he said, and this time, you stopped. “What the fuck?” you asked, your voice going up an octave. “I don’t need you to–” “For the miles. You can pay me back later,” he shrugged like it was no big deal. “I don’t need you to buy me a ticket. I don’t need your money, Art, let it go.” Your voice shook a little; you wondered if he heard it. “It’s not out of pity,” he said, voicing what you didn’t say. But you kept walking as if you hadn’t heard him.

“I wonder if we’ll find a spot in the library tomorrow,” you changed the subject to the first thing that popped into your head. Art didn’t say anything, but you knew it was the last thing he cared about at that moment. . . . A week before your flight, Billie cut your bangs. It’s not a cry for help, you told everyone who gave you a weird look. It’s cute. It’s fucking cute, ok? Art watched you from across the room at Patrick's party. You wondered if he'd say hello or if you'd both act like, at best, casual acquaintances- or, at worst, like you were just Jenny's little sister. You missed Lia and a few others who were fun to drink with and gossip with. You found out that Michelle was pregnant, which was a fucking scandal.

“Hey, stranger.” Art said when you walked into the kitchen. His eyes were redder than usual, and his smile was mischievous but tired. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, making Lia glance between the two of you. “Did you see she cut her bangs?” she asked, taking a sip from a drink you couldn’t quite identify. “It’s not a cry for help.” “It’s not a cry for help,” you both said together, but Art used a screechy voice, like he was imitating you, making Lia laugh. “She’s been yelling that at people all week,” he said to her, as if you weren’t standing right there. You considered grabbing a glass of wine and leaving them to talk alone. “Dave’s here,” Lia said suddenly, and you saw Art tense, his smile fading as if he sobered up instantly. If it weren’t for his telltale red eyes, there’d be no trace of it.

You and Dave had been together most of your last year in high school. He was the first guy you slept with, which was fine. It was just that everything felt a bit weirder whenever he was around since you broke up. It felt like you’d gone from friends to lovers to people scared of catching some incurable disease from each other if you'd even look at one another. “It’s totally fine,” you rolled your eyes, because, well, it really was fine. You hadn’t felt anything for Dave for almost a year. You regretted not knowing how he was doing or how he was handling college, but that’s life- you win some, you lose some.

“Little (Y/L/N),” Patrick Zweig’s voice grated in your ear. “Where’s (Y/L/N)?” he added quickly, probably drunker than usual, though you weren’t surprised. “Patrick,” Art muttered toward him, almost whining, like a man shocked by his best friend’s crudeness. “She’s at home, wasn’t feeling well.” You wondered if that was a convincing excuse for Jenny skipping Patrick’s party. But it was the excuse she left with you, and that’s what you’d stick to. “Well, at least we’ve got one family representative. What can you tell us about Art in California?” he asked, and you wondered why he was so desperate to put you in the spotlight. “Patrick, leave her alone,” Art’s tone was defensive, giving the guy next to him no option to dig any further. Patrick just flashed a mischievous grin and raised his hands in feigned surrender. “I like the bangs, you wear a mental breakdown well,” he chuckled and left the kitchen as chaotically as he’d entered, yelling something to Luke about beer pong. “Sorry, he’s an asshole,” Art said, sighing. You wondered when Lia had disappeared from your view. “He’s… Patrick,” you rolled your eyes. And it was true, you knew he didn’t act this way out of malice, he was just like that. “Want to get out of here?” Art asked. “Don’t you want to spend some time with your friends?” you returned the question. “I could use some air. Besides, who’s my friend here?” he shrugged. And as you both headed outside, you thought that was the saddest thing Art Donaldson had ever said to you.

"How does it feel to be home?" he asked. You want to say it’s ok, that it’s exactly what you dreamed, but it’s more like what you expected it would be. Your parents aren’t mad at you anymore, but they don’t approve of your decision either, and they remind you at every opportunity that they think you made a mistake. “It’s fine.” You shrugged. “I hate it when you say that,” he had this bitter laugh. “What?” You stopped for a moment and looked at him. “Every time you say something’s ‘fine,’ I know it’s not, and I have no idea how to get you to tell me.” He sighed, sitting down on a bench that hadn’t gotten wet from the rain that fell earlier in the afternoon.

“I’m not lying to you,” you tried to defend yourself, searching through your mind for other times you’d said something was ‘fine.’ You think he’s exaggerating. “I don’t think you’re lying. I think you don’t want to say things out loud,” he said. You think that if he weren’t a little drunk, he wouldn’t have brought up this conversation. “It’s weird, being home,” you said after a few seconds. He looked at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to say more. “I hate it when people call me ‘Little (Y/L/N).’ It feels like I don’t exist without Jenny,” you said, sharing something you hadn’t even told Lia. “I know,” Art said. “That’s why I get mad at Patrick when he calls you that.” He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “How did you know?” you asked, surprised by the nonchalance with which he said it. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he asked with a half-smile, “I just know you, Daisy.” And if you didn’t know he was drunk and tired, you’d think there was sadness in his eyes. . . . A few days later, you saw Patrick at the grocery store, which was strange in itself because you were pretty sure Patrick Zweig had assistants to go grocery shopping for him. “Little (Y/L/N),” he said, and you’re fairly sure the smile on his face was genuine; he was actually glad to run into you. “Happy Christmas,” he said, stopping in front of you, holding a carton of orange juice and what looked like a frozen pizza. “I’m Jewish,” you rolled your eyes, only making him smile more. He knew that- he could deny it all he wanted, but Patrick knew Jenny very well, and you and Jenny shared genes. You both paid quietly for your items at the checkout, and as you stepped outside, he lit a cigarette, looking at you with an expression that seemed to expect you to stop and stand with him.

“I’m really glad you’re there with him at Stanford, you know?” he said after a few puffs of smoke. “Yeah? Why?” You tried to avoid smiling at him. You didn’t think he deserved a smile; he’s a jerk. “Because he’s better when you’re around,” he said softly, with a kind of depth you hadn’t seen in him before- something that made you think you understood what Jenny saw in him, how he managed to break her heart. “At tennis?” you asked. Because that’s all Patrick cared about- tennis, girls, and maybe Art. “At everything.” He shrugged, all the depth disappearing as he began to walk away. “Happy Hanukkah, Little (Y/L/N). Say hi to your sister for me.” You could see a wink. Patrick Zweig is defiantly an asshole. . . . You and Art went together to the New Year’s party at Stanford. Billie and Summer haven’t returned yet, and you’re almost certain Art moved his flight to catch the same one as yours, but you didn’t ask him about it because you think it would make you seem too smug. And you’re not. You really aren’t. You just think that if anything had changed from the last time he asked if you two were friends, he would have told you. But he hasn’t, so…whatever.

He sat on your bed today while you did your makeup, never taking his eyes off you through the mirror. Someone watching might think you’d hypnotized him. You don’t think you saw him blink once in the fifteen minutes he stared at you. “You like what you see?” you asked with a half-smile, still looking at his reflection. “What if I do?” he shrugged, as if this ridiculous flirtation was the truest thing he’d said in ages.

You decide not to linger too hard on his hand holding yours all the way to the party. Or on the fact that he kept you close to him while talking to people you didn’t know. On the effort he put into participating in a conversation with a friend you met in one of your courses. You try not to blush when he leans in and asks if you’re planning to kiss him at midnight. He's being bold. You think he’s acting like a brat. It should bother you. It doesn’t bother you.

You kiss him at midnight. Or maybe he kisses you. You’re not exactly sure, because you’re both so wrapped up in your own bubble, ignoring the drunken students around you. Your foreheads touch, and in an instant, your lips are on his, or his are on yours. It doesn’t matter. The result is the same. Beer and gum, and something else you can’t quite identify, maybe desperation. You like the mix. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you could get used to it. “It’s not silly, right?” you ask quietly while you both catch your breath. “It’s anything but silly, Daisy,” he says with certainty. And you don’t think you’ve ever heard Art Donaldson sound so resolute.

He kisses you all over when you get to your room. You thank the holiday gods for keeping your roommates away. Your red dress finds itself on the floor much faster than you expected. He’s too good at this. You’d feel much less confident if he didn’t look at you like you held the sun in your left hand and the moon in your right. You find yourself sitting on top of him in your bra and underwear, his hands on your hips steadying you. You’ve never felt sexier than you do right now. A little voice in your head screams at you to engrave this feeling. But you silence it; it’s insecure and reminds you of Jenny, the last person you want to think about when you’re at second base with Art Donaldson.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips trail down your neck to your chest, unclasping your bra with one hand like a pro. “Shut up,” you manage to say, and he chuckles into you, as if he’s trying to bury himself within you. It's hot, stupidly hot. In a few minutes, he half-gently tosses you onto the bed, stripping down with a speed you didn’t think possible. He leans over you in boxers, and you close your eyes for a moment, knowing you have to remember this. Because he really is a work of Art. You’ve never known anyone whose name suited them more.

His lips were everywhere on your body at once, if that’s even possible, and his fingers slid in and out of you before you even realized you’d lost your underwear or when you’d started making that sound from your throat. Everything embarrassed you but also felt natural. You’ve never experienced such a range of emotions with anyone else, and the second that thought crossed your mind, you found yourself on the edge, and Art was above you, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, whispering soothing words while you caught your breath.

He entered you, and you felt like he was enveloping you from every angle, your moans blending together. You think a tear slipped down your cheek. You’re almost sure Art kissed you right where it fell. He was both gentle and rough at the same time. You don’t think that makes sense, but a lot of things tonight don’t make sense. You almost laugh at that thought but decide against it. Instead, you look at him, only to find his eyes already on yours, and he’s so beautiful, with his blond curls and that smile stretched across his face. “Fuck, Art,” you manage to mumble as you feel another orgasm building within you, you didn’t know you were capable of more than one. To be honest, even one was rare until recently. “I know, Daisy, I know,” he says in a half-strangled voice before his lips are back on yours, his hand wrapping around yours, and you think it’s incredibly intimate. You’ve never had sex like this before. You don’t think there’s any trace of your old crush left. You think it might be love. After he cleans you up with a towel he soaked with warm water, he lies beside you, and the small bed forces you to stay close. Maybe it’s Art who refuses to let go. You’re not sure why, but your legs are tangled together and your head is resting on his chest. “Are you going to break my heart again?” he asks, and you don’t know what he means because you’ve never broken anyone’s heart, least of all Art Donaldson’s. But he’s so certain in his question, he doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t correct himself. “When did I ever break your heart?” you asked. “When didn’t you?” he replies with a half-laugh. “You gave me a flower when I was eight and then didn’t talk to me for ten years,” he says quietly, like he’s sharing a secret you already knew but never understood.

It’s definitely love. You think you’re okay with that.

Hey? I don't even know what's going on but i'd like you to tell me what you think about that? that's it. Talk to me I guess.............

#challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #wreck my plans #art donaldson smut

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luviwon · 2 months ago

Text

MY PERSONAL STYLIST | y.jw

kinktober day 2! back to the masterlist here!

☆ stylist!jungwon x model!reader

; jungwon always finds the most fashionable pieces of clothing for you to try out, but when one day he decides to wrap you up in his own hands, well that becomes your new favourite fit.

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma

“i don’t think that fits well,” you complained loudly, without any sort of shyness. “i want something that screams that girl, you know? something to turn heads when i walk by, something that no one else has”

what a hard life, indeed. you pouted while laying down on the leathered sofa, throwing away the last piece of dress you’ve tried on. unhappy, disappointed and frustrated. these were 3 amazing words to describe the exact way you were feeling. it did, although, make sense, as the [brand name] fashion week was approaching by and all you could do was pray you will find something unique before that.

on the other side, jungwon snorted at your gesture and picked up the delicate dress from the floor, making sure to get rid of any dirt before putting it back on the hanger. it’s been nothing less than 6h since all the wardrobes in the building were emptied out for you to try every single item, but your expectations were somehow higher than the 24th floor you were on.

“look, giving their most recent collection, i believe we need to definitely include denim. it’s basically their signature, we couldn’t not take advantage out of it” the stylist explained in his simplicity while closing the doors of the closet. “what about a denim skirt? that’s both stylish and comfy; although going for a sleeveless denim top would be just as great”

you nodded, having a look around you. there were now low chances to try something new on as you were more than 99% sure you put on everything already. "i shouldn't be doing this," jungwon mumbled under his breath, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as if someone might walk in at any second. your interest piqued immediately, sitting up straighter on the sofa, eyes glued to his every movement. he turned his back to you, walking towards a wardrobe that had a small lock to it. he effortlessly took the keys out from his pants' pocket, following to unlock the mysterious closet.

the soft clink of the lock turning was like music to your ears—something forbidden, exclusive. jungwon swung the door open with a sense of purpose, pulling out a garment that instantly caught the light. a smile tugged at his lips as he walked over, holding up a stunning denim corset.

"now this—this is what you've been waiting for," he said, carefully laying the piece across his arm like a treasure. it wasn’t just any denim. it had the perfect balance of structure and softness, the kind of piece that would mold to your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. the corset was minimal in design but bold in impact, with sharp seams and an impeccable cut that made it scream sophistication. there were no buttons or zippers, just a sleek back, held together by what looked like a barely noticeable magnetic closure.

"oh my god, jungwon," you gasped, practically leaping off the couch to inspect it closer. your fingers itched to touch the fabric, running across the smooth denim that was far softer than you’d expected. "this is perfect. no, more than perfect. this is exactly what i was talking about." he chuckled at your excitement but quickly added, "there’s just one little thing... it’s not out yet."

your head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. "wait, what? this is from the new collection?" jungwon nodded, grinning but looking a bit mischievous. "yeah, technically, it’s part of an unreleased line. i’m not supposed to show it to anyone just yet." you blinked at him, utterly floored. "but... you’re showing it to me?"

he shrugged, smirking like this was all part of some grand conspiracy. "i figured, if you’re just wearing it for the fashion week—after the official release—then we can make an exception, right? besides, this is the piece. the one no one else will have."

you could barely contain your excitement. "oh my god, yes! no one else is going to have anything like this!" you practically snatched the corset from his hands, already picturing how it would look paired with just about anything. the versatility of it was unreal—denim, but with an edge that made it feel couture.

“try it on,” he urged, standing back to give you space.

with a grin, you quickly shed your current outfit, slipping into the corset like it was meant for you. as jungwon helped close the back, the magnetic closure clicked seamlessly, feeling almost like magic—no fuss, just an instant fit. you turned to the mirror, barely recognizing yourself in the best way possible. the corset cinched your waist, accentuating your figure in ways that made you feel like a walking masterpiece. your reflection practically screamed that girl, exactly as you had wanted.

“how does it feel?” jungwon asked, watching your reaction closely.

“it feels…” you twirled, taking in every angle. “it feels like i’m going to break every neck at fashion week.”

jungwon smiled, a mix of pride and amusement. "good. that’s what we’re going for."

you couldn’t take your eyes off the mirror, completely mesmerized by your own reflection. the denim corset hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating every curve. the sharp lines of the piece sculpted your silhouette, making you feel powerful, like you were already walking down the runway at fashion week. a smile tugged at your lips, growing wider with every second you spent admiring yourself. you had to admit, jungwon had completely outdone himself with this.

but as you stood there, swimming in the confidence the corset gave you, you found yourself subtly adjusting it. your hands instinctively moved to your chest, pulling the corset up a little each time. it fit your waist perfectly, but around your chest, it felt like it was slipping ever so slightly, not quite sitting the way you wanted it to.

jungwon, who had been silently watching from behind, couldn’t help but admire the way the corset shaped you. the way the denim cupped your waist, accentuating your figure—it was flawless. his gaze trailed over your body, lingering on the soft curve of your hips and the way the fabric contoured to your form. his breath hitched as his eyes moved upward, taking in the way your cleavage was framed by the low-cut neckline. it wasn’t just the fit; it was the way the corset transformed you into something almost untouchable.

"wow," he muttered, voice low, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

you caught his reflection in the mirror, his expression a mix of fascination and appreciation, and your smile widened even more. "you like it?" you asked playfully, even though you could already tell by the look on his face.

"it looks incredible on you," he said, stepping closer. the admiration in his voice was undeniable, and his eyes never left your figure as he moved. "every curve, the way it fits your waist—it’s perfect."

his gaze shifted to the neckline, noticing how you kept adjusting the corset. "except maybe here," he added, gently reaching up to pull the fabric up a bit for you. his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "feels like it’s not fitting you quite right up top."

you nodded, looking down at your chest and laughing softly. "yeah, it keeps slipping a little. not the best fit for my, uh, chest."

jungwon tilted his head, his eyes still locked on the way the fabric clung to you. "we could probably make a small adjustment to the top. just enough to keep it secure without losing that sleek look."

he stood directly behind you now, his presence warm and steady as he eyed your reflection in the mirror. his hands hovered near your waist, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the energy between you. "but honestly," he added, voice dropping, "it’s hard to notice anything wrong when it looks this good on you."

you met his gaze in the mirror, cheeks flushing slightly at his words. there was something about the way he looked at you—like he was seeing more than just an outfit.

your heart fluttered as jungwon's words hung in the air. his gaze, warm and intense, never left your body, and it felt like every second he spent behind you made your skin tingle. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were looking down, trying to steady your breath. your fingers played with the hem of the corset, pulling it up again, even though that wasn’t really the issue.

get it together, you thought to yourself, chewing the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. it’s a professional relationship. he’s your stylist. this is what he does.

but every time you dared to glance back at the mirror, your resolve cracked just a little more. jungwon was still there, standing close behind you, his eyes lingering on you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. and it wasn’t just the way he looked—it was the way he felt standing there, like the air between you was charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

your heart skipped a beat, and despite trying to keep your composure, you couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping back onto your face. god, get a grip, you scolded yourself, but it was impossible not to feel something when his gaze was that intense.

he seemed to realize it too. there was a moment—a brief flicker in his expression—where he caught himself staring. almost like he forgot for a second that this was supposed to be all about fashion. jungwon blinked, then let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh, quickly brushing his hand through his hair. his fingers tousled his dark strands, and he turned away from you, moving toward one of the racks like he was suddenly very busy.

"so," he began, his tone light and casual, as though he hadn’t just been admiring your every curve moments before. "should we go with shorts or a skirt? i feel like either could work with the corset, but we should go with whatever makes the most impact for fashion week."

you exhaled quietly, feeling the tension ease as he busied himself with the clothes, his back now to you. he was already flipping through hangers, acting like nothing had happened, but you could still feel the lingering energy between you two.

jungwon rummaged through the rack with practiced precision, flipping through various fabrics before his hand landed on something. "ah, here it is," he said, pulling out a sleek skirt with a satisfied grin.

you watched as he held it up for you to see. the material was a smooth, structured twill—something that could perfectly complement the denim without clashing. the fabric had a bit of shine to it, just enough to elevate it beyond casual wear, but what really caught your attention was the unique detail at the waist. there was a thin, adjustable thread running along the top, almost like a drawstring but far more elegant, allowing you to tighten the fit as needed. it added a subtle edge to the skirt’s design, making it feel more versatile and modern.

"this could be perfect," jungwon said, his excitement matching yours. "the material’s got just enough weight to balance the denim, but it won’t overwhelm it. and with this thread detail," he ran a finger along the waist, showing how it worked, "you can adjust it exactly how you want it to fit."

your eyes lit up the moment you saw it. "oh my god, yes. it’s perfect." without even thinking twice, you reached for the skirt, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him. "i’m trying this on right now."

he stepped back with a grin, giving you space as you slipped out of your pants and into the skirt, the fabric sliding smoothly over your legs. you turned to the mirror again, adjusting the waist with the thread until it sat snugly against your hips. it hugged your body in just the right way—tight where it needed to be but still comfortable, and it gave your whole look a balanced, polished feel.

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction as you twirled slightly to see how it moved with you. "what do you think?" you asked, your voice barely hiding your excitement.

jungwon was watching you again, eyes filled with approval as he nodded. "it’s everything. the corset and the skirt—it’s like they were made for each other." his gaze lingered just a moment longer before he added, "and they were definitely made for you."

you looked at your reflection once more, the outfit transforming you into exactly the vision you’d had in your mind since the beginning. "i love it," you said, beaming. "this is it. this is the look."

you couldn’t contain your excitement. the outfit was perfect—beyond perfect, and it made you feel unstoppable. without even thinking, you spun around and practically launched yourself into jungwon's arms. "oh my god, you’re the best!" you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck in a burst of joy.

he barely had time to react before you were in his arms, your body colliding with his in a tight hug. His grip instinctively tightened around you to steady the both of you as he let out a soft, surprised laugh. "whoa, okay, glad you like it!" he said, still smiling, clearly amused by your reaction.

but just as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, something unexpected happened. you felt a soft click behind you. for a split second, you didn’t understand what it was. then, suddenly, you felt the denim corset loosen completely.

your eyes widened in horror as you realized what had happened. the magnetic closure had come undone, and before you could even react, the corset slipped down, hitting the floor. you froze, every muscle in your body stiffening as the air around you seemed to stand still.

"oh my god," you whispered into his chest, your voice muffled and filled with embarrassment as you buried your face deeper, cheeks burning. you wanted to disappear, to melt into the ground and pretend this wasn’t happening. "oh my god, oh my god…"

jungwon’s body tensed at first, clearly just as surprised, but then, almost instinctively, his hands found their way to your waist. the warmth of his palms rested gently against your skin, holding you in place as if to steady you, even though both of you were standing perfectly still. his breath hitched for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

the two of you just stood there, glued to each other, neither knowing what to do. you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, a steady rhythm that seemed louder in the silence, while your own heart raced wildly, your face still hidden against his chest.

you let out a shaky breath, unable to move or even think straight, trapped in a whirlwind of embarrassment. "i—i didn’t mean for that to happen," you mumbled against him, voice small and apologetic, barely above a whisper.

jungwon, who had been frozen for what felt like an eternity, finally spoke, his voice low and soft. "it’s okay," he said, his hands still resting on your waist, as if anchoring you both in the moment. "it was the magnet."

you both laughed nervously, a quiet, shared moment of awkwardness but also something else neither of you could quite name.

jungwon's hands still rested gently on your waist, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a moment that felt anything but. your heart was racing, and you could feel his pulse thudding just as strongly against your cheek. the awkwardness between you grew thick, heavy, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

but then, without saying a word, jungwon's hand moved from your waist, gliding up slowly. your breath caught in your throat as his fingers gently tilted your chin upward, coaxing your face away from where you’d buried it against his chest. your eyes reluctantly met his, wide and uncertain, your body instinctively pushing closer to him to keep your chest covered.

his touch was soft, yet there was something deliberate about the way he held your chin, guiding you to look at him. you could feel the heat from his fingers, his thumb grazing the edge of your jawline, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of you didn’t exist. it was just the quiet, the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands, and the intensity in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

but he couldn’t stop himself. his gaze flickered, almost unwillingly, sliding down from your face, tracing the line of your neck before settling lower. his eyes dipped, just for a heartbeat, to where the corset had fallen away, and though you’d pressed tighter into him, he could still catch the soft curve of your bare skin. his eyes did a slow, unintentional marathon—from your eyes, to your chest, and then back again, as if he was trying to fight it but losing that battle with each passing second.

you felt a shiver run through you, your entire body hyper-aware of his presence, the closeness, the heat between you. his fingers still held your chin, his grip gentle but firm, and the way he looked at you—like he was seeing you in a way he never had before—sent your heart pounding even faster.

"jungwon…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, not even sure what you were asking, or if you were asking anything at all. maybe just for the moment to slow down, or speed up—something. your cheeks burned with embarrassment, your arms still wrapped around his waist, pressing tighter as if that would somehow make everything less exposed, less vulnerable.

jungwon’s gaze was intense, almost overwhelming, and you felt your pulse quicken under the weight of it. his eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long on every part of you, tracing your features with a softness that made your breath hitch. unable to take the intensity any longer, you instinctively turned around, trying to break free from the moment, hoping to gather yourself.

but in your flustered state, you didn’t realize the full gravity of what you’d just done.

the cool air on your bare skin suddenly felt more noticeable, your nipples hardening in an Instant, and before you could react, you were standing there—completely uncovered—facing the massive mirror. your heart skipped a beat, panic flooding through you as it hit you: jungwon was right behind you, already facing the mirror. his eyes had a perfect view of everything reflected back at him.

"oh my god," you gasped, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

before you could move, jungwon was already there. his reflexes were quicker than you expected, and without hesitation, his hands shot forward, gently but urgently covering your exposed chest. his palms pressed against your tits, shielding you from both the mirror and himself, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you.

the room seemed to freeze for a moment, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. you could feel jungwon’s breath behind you, shaky and uncertain, his hands resting protectively over you. your pulse raced beneath his fingers, the intimacy of the situation more than either of you had anticipated.

“i knew they would fit just right in my hands” jungwon whispered merely for himself but your ears couldn’t ignore it either. his hands were warming up your chest a lot in that moment, and if before you’d be positive that your nipples are the hardest they could be, well, jungwon decided to prove you wrong and circle his palms around them to make them even rock hard. he couldn’t stop staring at the mirror, at the way your body was glued to his, at the manner in which there was only one obstacle from seeing your beautiful chest and that was his own hands.

you bit your lower lip, resting the back of your head against his chest as he lowered his head to place a wet kiss against your exposed skin. you trembled under his touch as his plumped lips left saliva on your beautiful neck, following to be licked off by his long tongue, going all the way to your ears. and because he couldn’t leave them just like that, he bit your earlobe, still, so gently. his hands continued to tease your nips against his palms, now your shoulder being devoured by his hungry lips, kissing, licking, sucking and nibbling all over.

naturally, one of his arms went lower to unwrap the thread along your skirt, causing it to fall down so carelessly, exposing your simple, pale pink panties, along with a wet stain against them. “do i turn you on, y/n”? jungwon asked, eyes locked on the mirror, pushing his hand lower to cup your pussy completely. he rested it there, using his middle finger to press against your hole, hidden behind the drenched piece of lingerie.

“mhm” you nodded, closing your eyes as arching your back in response, unable to resist to his soft, attentive yet dangerous touch. you pushed your chest up, the lonely left breast showing off its round and perky shape. jungwon smirked at the view of that, turning you around and pressing you against the mirror. the cold touch of the glass gave you a short shiver, followed by another one coming from jungwon, who couldn’t help but get on his knees in front of you.

“as a model, you should control yourself regardless of the circumstances, is that true?” he asked you on a deliberate sarcastic tone, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. he stuck out his tongue, licking his lips like a hungry animal. “let’s see if you can keep your moans to yourself then, sweetheart” he added, just before pulling down your panties, his hot breathe hitting your soaked pussy immediately. you felt your legs getting weaker already, but jungwon made sure to hold you still, his mouth taking a full bite of your dripping wet cunt. if before he presented himself to be the greatest gentleman, now he surely proves the contrary. jungwon aggressively sucked on your clit, using a finger to push inside you unexpectedly.

you whimpered out, loud enough for the whole staircase to hear. “shh” he whispered to you, pushing his finger as high as possible and taking it out to make you desperate. his lips were taking over your folds, giving each of them their own turn, leaving wet kisses and fainted marks. additional to his index finger, another one joined him, pushed hard inside you again, letting another moan out, even louder this time. jungwon smirked, and curled them inside you, making your legs tremble. you clenched around his fingers, his tongue giving your clit now all of his attention.

at this point, you had no more strength to stand still and kept going lower, his fingers deeper inside you. “ride my fingers” he urged you, raising his head to see your face full of pleasure, rolling your eyes back with each movement. he stopped moving his hand now, and waited for you to do your turn. with a small gulp, you pushed you body lower until his finger were all hidden inside you again, biting your lips not to let another sound escape from you. it felt so good you couldn’t raise anymore, legs still shaking in pleasure. that’s when jungwon’s patience went down to 0 and his fingers curled again inside you, this time his thumb rubbing your clit in sync.

“do you like how i finger you, sweetheart? your wet sounds say it all”

his smirk couldn’t leave his face at all, not for a second, nor could his gaze let go of yours. he was obsessed with the way you rolled your eyes back, the way you pushed your chest up and the way your shaking legs couldn’t help you stand still anymore. all of this because of him, because of his hands, his fingers, simply him, his voice, his touch.

“i feel so close” you whined, the words barely coming out of your mouth correctly. but to be fair, how could you say anything right when all you could feel was pleasure? hearing your statement, jungwon stood up and pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, revealing his hardened length. “then cum around my cock” he imposed as he pushed his dick covered in precum inside your cunt. he pressed his hands against the mirror, pumping himself into you. he threw his head back, speeding up his rhythm as your tits jumped up and down.

“j-jungwon” you moaned aloud his name, crying along with it. you did not have a single thought on your mind anymore, all you could feel was jungwon’s cock hitting your g point a million times, until your body couldn’t take it anymore. “jungwon i-“ you started saying, but before you could finish, he was already painting your walls white. you let go of your pleasure and came on his cock, throwing your arms around his neck to find some support.

legs shaking, you were still trying to catch your breathe. completely naked against the dressing room mirror, you felt a shiver down your spine and a moan was shouted out again when jungwon pushed himself inside you one more time. he chuckled, seeing your reaction and lifted you up, walking effortlessly across the room to the leathered sofa. he sat down on it, you still on his lap, his cock still buried inside you.

“round two?”

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard #sunoo hard thoughts #enhypen #enha smut #enha x reader #jungwon hard hours #jungwon enha #enhypen jungwon #jungwon smut #jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon hard thoughts #enha imagines #jungwon imagines #smut #kinktober

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kbwrites · 4 months ago

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OFFICE ESCAPADES WITH NANAMI

Synopsis: Ever since Nanami hired you you’ve done nothing but stress him out. You’re infuriating… And he just can’t seem to get enough of you.

⚝a/n: I don’t usually write smut so I decided to give it a shot.

⚝tags: Porn with plot, Nsfw, Companyman! Nanami, Semi-Public Sex, Enemies to Lovers

⚝wc: 2.4k

Nanami was a gentleman, arguably the perfect one. He shows up to work on time, early even. His hair was neatly combed, his dress shirt pressed, leather shoes shined. He was the pinnacle of discipline and control.

However, every time he was in your presence. That control would slip, little by little.

He hired you fresh out of college. Top of your class, all of the firms in the area had given their offers; but Nanami snatched you away.

He soon began to think that maybe you were more trouble than you were worth..

You were brilliant, there wasn’t any denying that. You were gorgeous, couldn’t deny that either. But that damn mouth of yours.. was going to be the death of him and you…

You strutted into the older man’s office, ‘he’s told you multiple times to knock first…’ Nanami peels his eyes away from his laptop to look at the woman standing in front of his desk. His eyebrow quirks up as he notices her visibly pissed-off vibe.

“Something wrong?”

You scoff in annoyance “You denied my contract?”

He looks back at his laptop, stealing glances at you.

“Did you even read over it before you sent it to me?”

“Excuse me-”

“The terms in this contract… Do you have any idea what kind of position it’ll put us in?”

“Are you suggesting I don’t know how to do my job?”

Nanami shoots you a sidelong glance, a hint of irritation flashing across his face.

“I’m not suggesting I’m telling you. Maybe I shouldn’t have given you this big a project so soon.”

You huff in annoyance. Your boss knew just what to say to push your buttons. You slam the papers you were holding onto his mahogany desk. Looking down at your senior… he was so.. So.. infuriating. Nanami leans back in his chair, hands folded against his chest as he looks up at you.

“You arrogant-”

“Arrogant?” He laughs, his voice laced with annoyance.

“You come in here with a horrendous contract, even worse attitude, and think you’re in the right?” He rises from his desk, striding over to you. You never noticed how much Nanami towered over you, and now he was inches away from you. He smelled like… Vanilla and cedarwood, his cologne making you dizzy. But no, you needed desperately to try to control yourself. Make it seem like he wasn’t having such an effect on you.

“That contract is getting sent out.” You inch in closer looking up at him, failing at being intimidating.

“No, it's not.” Nanami says firmly, his eyes locked onto yours. An intense, almost magnetic pull between the two of you. He continues to invade your space.

“You’re not sending anything out until I’ve reviewed and approved it. Understand?” He pushes his glasses up his bridge.

Being this close, you can feel his breath on your skin, the heat radiating off his body.

Nanami takes a deep breath stepping back just enough to create some distance, he takes the papers you previously slammed on his desk and shoves them into your hand.

“Come back when you’ve made the changes I highlighted.”

You roll your eyes before bowing, your formal gesture cannot hide how much you want to ring his neck right now-

“Yes. Sir.” You turn on your heels, leaving his office. Slamming the door on your way out.

Nanami lets out a deep, shaky breath.

“Fuck… She’s gonna be the death of me.”

He runs his hand through his golden locks, trying to compose himself. Why did you have to be so irritating? He would love to just put her in her place. Shut that pretty little mouth of hers… Have her on her knees taking his-

Wait.. What?

Nanami shakes his head, trying to reign in his desire. ‘She’s a coworker’ he tells himself. ‘It would be highly unethical’

And yet you plague his mind, every waking moment. How it would feel to have you underneath him, begging for mercy.

His hands move lower, palming his semi-hard erection through his cotton twill dress pants. The otherwise put-together businessman groaned at the friction delivered from his hand… Imagining it was you, splayed out on his mahogany desk..

He unzips his pants, loosening his yellow tie…

Your blouse discarded and pencil skirt… that damn pencil skirt-- He always warned you it was just a little too short.

His length springs free, slit already leaking. He wraps one hand around it, pumping slowly.

“S-shit… (Y/N).” He lets out a shaky breath. He shouldn’t be doing this, it's shameful to even be thinking about you in that way. He’s your boss.

He tightens his grip, hips bucking into his hand. Nanami’s head falls back to his office chair, this is so wrong.. This is so wrong…

“Ff-fuuuck…”

He hisses through clenched teeth, you’re just on the other side of his office door. If you only knew how he really felt about you. That during all your arguments he’d want nothing more than to bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name.

He pumps faster, wanting desperately to release the pent-up frustration. He’s close. His breath quickens, his cum spills out, hot sticky ropes flowing down his hand.

Fuck.

He grabs some tissues cleaning up the evidence of his transgression. Straightening his tie and zipping up his pants, Nanami clears his throat trying to regain some semblance of control. Guilt washes over him.

His work… yes maybe if he focused on that-

But nothing seems to work, he’s bewitched. Intoxicated by you, in all his years working for this company no one had ever challenged him. Questioned his authority, called him a “self-centered bastard” but you… you did all those things. He wanted more, he needed more.

Suddenly the doorknob turns

Nanami sits up in his leather chair, pretending to type away at his computer.

You enter the room, holding another stack of papers. Nanami sighs.

“I’ve told you countless times to knock-”

The stack of papers drops to his desk with a loud

THUMP.

“I revised the contract” You reply placing your hands on the desk, flashing him the fakest smile. He looks up at you, leaning down over the desk his eye flicks down to your slightly exposed cleavage.. A peak of your lace bra showing from under your satin blouse.

Black lace underwear huh?

He clears his throat… Looking back up at you. He pulls the stack of papers towards him, rifling through the pages. Desperately trying to ignore your luring figure looming over him. It’s a marked improvement from the last draft, but where’s the fun in praising you?

“Its… passable” He looks up at you, smirking.

“Bullshit!” You snap, that was it. It was one thing if you made a mistake, but that revision was flawless. Just what exactly was his problem?!

Nanami’s eyebrow quirks up, amused at your outburst. “Did you expect a gold star for doing your job?” He slowly rises from his chair, his hands now also on the desk. Looming over you.

“I don’t need a gold star” You scoff “Especially not from you.”

Every snarky remark, every biting word from your lips ignites something in him. Primitive, possessive, a pull that he can’t seem to escape. He leans in closer, both of your bodies still separated by his desk.

“You clearly need something to adjust that attitude of yours.”

Your heart is running a marathon right now, your arguments were always heated but this… this felt different. You decide to take a chance, your knee comes up to lean on the desk, and your other stiletto-clad leg now dangling off the edge. Your face mere inches from your boss’.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” You stare into his honey-colored eyes, filled with fire.

And right there, months of profanity-filled disagreements, heated screaming matches.. It all boiled down to this-

Nanami grabs you by the neck, pulling you into a bruising kiss. His tongue greedily entering your mouth, tasting every corner. He bites at your bottom lip roughly, your eyes flutter shut melting into his firm grasp. Time stops, but starts again when he pulls away, forehead resting against yours. Your mind is an infinite void, millions of thoughts run through it but no words can come out. Did he just? Did you just? Then he speaks.

“You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since you started here.” He manages to get out through labored breaths. His attention moves to your neck, he pulls your head up exposing more of your skin to him, he trails hot open-mouth kisses up and down your throat. Your breath hitches.

“And what about you? You think ahh you’ve been a box of daisies?” He grabs your legs, pulling you to sit on the other side of the desk, the papers and pens once occupying the surface now hit the floor, your legs now on either side of the tall blond. Damn, he's strong-

He lets out a dark chuckle, gripping your hips tight, trimmed nails digging into your skirt.

“You’ve made it almost impossible for me to get any work done.” He continues his attack on your neck, trailing down to your collarbone. He kisses and sucks lightly on the delicate skin.

“You’re always so uptight Kento~ I was wondering if it was because you haven’t gotten laid.” You smirk, proud you were still able to quip back despite the growing heat between your legs.

His lips leave your chest and move to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Careful sweetheart, unless you want me to find a use for that filthy mouth of yours.”

Nanami licks the shell of your ear, grabbing your wrists and roughly pulling you up off of the desk. Body now flush against his. One large hand grips your hip while the other reaches under your satin blouse, cupping your breast through the lacy material of your bra. His fingers ghost over your hardened bud.

“You’re the only one reduce me to… this, have me fuckk misbehaving at work” Your hips roll into his, feeling his growing arousal.

“Is that what you tell all your girls?”

He growls at this, craning his neck back down to your chest, biting and sucking at your clavicle. Your hands rake through his hair, tugging, manicured nails scratching at his scalp. He lifts his head just enough to say

“There are no ‘other’ girls” Before continuing his assault on your skin. He lifts your blouse over your head, discarding the lace bra. He groans at the new skin exposed to him, capturing your bud in his mouth.

“Oh? Not even that cute receptionist?” You moan as his tongue swirls around your nipple “I’ve seen the way she looks ahhh at you ”

Nanami rolls his eyes at this, he knows exactly who you’re talking about. Sure she was cute, always making sure to tell him “Good Morning” and “Good Night” Begging to hear about his day, boring him with office gossip. Looking up at him with innocent puppy dog eyes…

He never was a dog person…

He releases your bud from his mouth, looking up at you through his hazel half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t need a pushover. I prefer a woman with a little fight in her” He moves to give your other bud the same treatment “Someone.. who’s going to challenge me.” He mumbles in between kisses.

His large hand gropes the other breast as his mouth works, thumb flicking over the sensitive spot. He leans back up, back to towering over you. He takes in the sight before him, you struggle to catch your breath, glossy lips parted, your pupils blown with desire. He wishes he could replay this image in his mind for the rest of eternity.

“Get on your knees.” He says flatly.

Your eyebrow quirks up in challenge. “Excuse me?”

“Told you… I want to find a use for that mouth of yours.” He looks down at you, his eyes dark.

You slowly sink to your knees, not breaking eye contact with him. His breath catches in his throat, he fiddles with his belt buckle. The sound of the zipper filling the otherwise quiet office. The tent in his briefs now on full display in front of you. He looks at you expectantly.

You tug at his waistband his cock springing free from its confines. You see your boss in all his glory, his blushing pink tip, heavy balls and his perfect curve upwards. It was a masterpiece.

You loll your tongue out, swiping at the precum leaking from his mushroom tip. The salty sweet taste making you moan softly. Nanami shudders at the sensation, moving his hands to the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair.

You slowly take his length into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head. Your hand wraps around the base as you incorporate more and more of his swollen cock past your bruised lips.

Nanami subconsciously spreads his legs, hips twitching as you bob your head at a steady rhythm.

Nanami’s grunts and moans mixed with your obscene gags fill the soundscape of the office.

He roughly grips your hair, taking control of your pace. Oh if you only knew how sinful you looked right now.

Your hollowed cheeks, expensive mascara pooling at the corner of your eyes as tears welled up. It’s all too much.. too fucking much.

Fuck.

Nanami feels a familiar pressure building up in his lower abdomen.

“I-if you keep going like that s-shit I’m going to“ He looks down at you, half desire half concern on his face.

You only encourage him by picking up the pace, spit dripping down your chin as you pump his base and suck his length.

The rubber band finally snaps, Nanami bucks his hips into your face, his strong hand pressing your head flush against his pelvis.

You choke as his seed hits the back of your throat, eyes fluttering shut. If you died right now there would be no complaints on your end.

His breath slows, releasing your head. You come up for air, coughing and wiping the excess drool and cum from the corner of your mouth.

His hand reaches to cup your cheek, stroking it gently, a silent thank you in his mind.

He picks you up with a gentleness previously unknown and sets you right onto his desk,

The roles now reversed with Nanami positioning himself between your legs. Kneeling down, ready to worship you.

He hooks a finger around your underwear, pulling it to the side, humming in satisfaction as he takes in the sight of your sopping wet cunt. Your boss tears his eyes away for a second looking up at you and smirking.

“You did such a good job, it’s only fair I reward you.”

#kbwrites #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk smut #nanami x reader #kento x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader

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foone · 5 months ago

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A world of friends

In the late 2030s, a research lab discovers how to travel to alternate earths. And what's even better, they've figured out how to best monetize it too: tourism.

See it turns out there's not a lot of variation. There's a nearly infinite number of earths, but it's not like you're traveling to an alien planet or Narnia. They're all pretty... Earthy.

And they turn that into a positive: all earths are similar, but the small differences are what counts. And they're always searching for worlds with interesting divergences from our own, as potential destinations.

Spend a weekend with Netflix on the world where Walter Disney became a little-known architect, and the face of children's media is completely different. Visit the world where the US Revolution failed, and most of the Americas remains part of the commonwealth.

Safari through the world where humans died out or never evolved, see the megafauna we weren't around to extinct.

The world where the planet's population is 97% Christian but they're also nudists because they associate nudity with the innocence of the Garden of Eden.

And if you're looking for a challenge, visit the world's where climate change has already melted the ice caps, the world's where the cold war went hot, the world where the first world war is also the last one, and it's still ongoing.

There's just one minor problem with their plan of setting up an industry to portal people to other worlds:

Someone else is already using it.

Their interdimensional tech relies on creating wormholes using a complex arrangement of superconducting magnets and there's a characteristic burst of neutrinos when the event horizon forms.

They have to monitor them to properly "aim" the wormhole, but their early work is thrown off by seeing spurious emissions coming from outside their facility, which they later realize are exactly matching their technology.

They're just seeing the wormholes from the other end.

They partner with a government agency, explaining their discovery, and express worry that the country (and the world!) may be getting infiltrated by an off world power.

They build sensors in major cities, and triangulate where the off-worlders are appearing, and follow them.

They seem harmless enough. Often skittish, taking lots of pictures, asking odd questions... These aren't security agents or an invading force.

They're just tourists. They're from another world's interdimensional tourism business. One that set up before ours.

But why are they here? What's so odd about our world among the trillions they have access to that makes them come here with cameras fully loaded with film and memory cards?

The security agents pour over surveillance tapes of them wandering around random cities, and finally spot (no pun intended) why they're here.

It's dogs.

The tourists are skittish around seeing people walking their dogs, they're taking pictures of corgis and greyhounds, they're visiting petstores and ignoring the cats and iguanas and tropical fish to go look at the most boring mutts, eyes full of wonder and fear and excitement...

One of the tourists is picked up by the security services, but hits their panic button and vanishes before they can be questioned. They leave behind a Daguerre Inc 2090 DSLR camera full of slightly blurry photos of dogs, and a pamphlet that fell out of their bag in the scuffle

The pamphlet is for this interdimensional vacation, and describes the weirdness of our world: The strange universe where humans somehow befriended wild wolves and let them into their homes and lives.

The pamphlet plays up the scariness of canines, showing Tibetan mastiffs and angry pitbulls biting into meat. Police dogs with titanium teeth replacements. There's very few pictures of chihuahuas and corgis and poodles.

So the next time you're at an animal rescue or a petting zoo, and you see someone looking on in fear and wonder at the amazing sight of a golden retriever puppy, their camera shutter clicking away...

Maybe ask them who the president is. And what year we landed on the moon.

And don't be too surprised if they answer "You mean the Prime Minister? It's still Thiers, right? I haven't been reading the papers much recently. And 1956, unless you're one of those pedantics who say it only counts if it was successful, in which case 1958"

(reposted from a twitter thread from 2022)

#my writing

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belqva · 3 months ago

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₊˚⊹౨ TAKE ME TO CHURCH [T.M.R.] ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: domestic violence, mentions of murder (it’s tom riddle are we even surprised?)

summary: At the hour of the owl, driven by anger and hurt, you left your dorm and wandered towards the Black Lake. There you encounter Tom Riddle. Your enigmatic conversation with your academic rival took an unexpected turn, leaving you with more questions than answers as you headed back to the castle.

pairing: tom riddle x ravenclaw fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is a draft that I didn’t plan on posting but I’m so busy atm I don’t have time to write anything else 🥲 again english is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes! as always my inbox is open and I’m happy to hear any criticism or requests as long as you are polite 🤍 not incredibly proud of this but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <333

It was the hour of the owl when you left your dorm room. Strictly forbidden, yes, but as a prefect—even if off-duty that evening—you were willing to risk detention. Quite unusual for an obedient Ravenclaw like yourself, but here you were, sneaking out like a thief in the night.

“Oh, bloody hell,” you muttered, consumed by anger that clouded your thoughts. Hatred and adrenaline coursed through your veins. The Ravenclaw common room was empty; everyone else was already in bed, even those who usually stayed up late. No one would see or question your departure. It was nearly three in the morning, dark and silent.

You made your way across the empty common room and down the stairs of Ravenclaw Tower, not entirely sure where you were going, but driven by a need to escape everything. The ancient Hogwarts castle was cold and empty, its walls whispering secrets. Some might find the silence unsettling, but you found it oddly comforting. The cool evening breeze was soothing against your warm skin, though you would likely regret leaving your sweater behind later. Dressed in your usual uniform—a skirt, a white button-up, and the silver-blue tie— you moved carefully through the deserted halls, avoiding even the faintest creak.

The castle felt unimaginably vacant. Your anger had begun to ebb, replaced by a gradual calmness. The walk and fresh air had helped. As you meandered through the halls, you decided to venture outside the castle. It wasn’t entirely safe, but you had your wand and weren't afraid of the dark anymore. The stars shone brightly above, and your worries seemed to drift away.

Heading towards the Black Lake to clear your mind, you noticed a figure on the shore. Your heart raced with fear. Quickly gripping your wand, you crept closer, only to recognize the familiar figure of Tom Riddle. His jet-black hair, piercing dark eyes, and imposing stature could not be mistaken. The sight of him was both intimidating and oddly magnetic.

“Riddle,” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet. As he turned, his wand aimed at the ready, you saw his defensive stance relax.

“Y/L/N,” Tom said, his tone sharp as ever. “It is rather uncouth to approach someone unannounced.”

You had never liked him, and the feeling was mutual. What began as a snarky rivalry in your first year had escalated into a fierce competition. Each of you tried to outdo the other, pushing boundaries and limits, reveling in victories and defeats. Despite your mutual animosity, there was an undeniable, if twisted, connection between you. Tom was not like other boys; he was cold, calculating, and ruthless. Yet, he maintained a facade of the humble, ambitious scholar. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and though you would never admit it, you found his intensity compelling.

“Well, that certainly wasn’t my intention, Riddle. My apologies,” you replied sarcastically.

As you approached, you noticed Tom’s irritated expression and the cigarette he had dropped. He took out another one, lit it with his wand, and took a drag before addressing you.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Y/L/N,” he said, ignoring your remark. “It’s never easy with you, is it?”

“You’re the one to talk,” you retorted. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Tom’s unimpressed glance betrayed his indifference. “Well, I’m delighted to catch you off guard.”

The sight of him indulging in such a muggle habit was unexpected. Given his staunch pureblood beliefs, it was surprising. But you supposed it made sense, considering his upbringing in a muggle orphanage. Where he got the cigarettes from was another mystery.

His reaction to your mention of muggles was intense. “I have nothing to do with those filthy creatures. The mere idea is offensive. Muggles are obsessed with pleasure, indulgence, and waste. They are nothing but animals in disguise.”

Tom’s passionate tirade was one of his defining traits. His ability to articulate his disdain with such fervor was both disturbing and strangely admirable. You had learned to disregard his over-the-top responses, focusing instead on his more genuine moments.

“Merlin, Riddle, calm down. It was just a question,” you said, trying to remain unfazed.

“And I am just answering you,” he countered, his demeanor quickly reverting to his usual composed facade. He took another drag of his cigarette, and a heavy silence settled between you.

After a moment, he broke the quiet. “So what is an obedient Ravenclaw like yourself doing out at this hour? I thought breaking the rules wasn’t your style.” His smirk was maddening.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the earlier anger fading, replaced by an uncomfortable shudder of vulnerability. Tom noticed the change in your demeanor and his expression grew serious. His perceptiveness was unnerving, a reminder of why you found it hard to trust him fully.

“Well, it’s stupid really. Foolish,” you admitted, defeated.

Tom raised an eyebrow, puffing smoke as you locked eyes. A silent understanding passed between you, a mutual recognition of the truth. You began to speak, revealing the turmoil behind your nighttime escapade.

You sat on the edge of your bed, struggling to focus on your assignments late into the evening.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your quill scratching parchment and the occasional rustle of pages. All your dormmates were out at a Gryffindor party celebrating their victory over Slytherin in the Quidditch match. You weren't worried about their early return; it was Friday, and with no classes the next day, they were likely to be out until afternoon, lost in firewhisky or other indulgences. They'd tried to drag you along, but you'd claimed a severe headache and a need for rest. None of them believed you, dismissing your excuses with rolled eyes and playful jabs.

As they left, one of them teased,

"Have fun trying to turn rubbish into a raccoon dog," and they all laughed.

You rolled your eyes, knowing their words were harmless. You were close friends who respected each other deeply; this was just part of your dynamic.

Just as you were settling into the quiet, a sudden interruption shattered the peace. Someone opened your dorm room door, and annoyance flared at the disruptive noise. "Jane, is that you? Because I swear on my mother's-" you began scolding as you turned, but your words faltered when you saw the dark mop of slicked-back hair. It was your boyfriend, Wiglaf Siggurdson.

"Sorry to disappoint," he chuckled, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You were relieved it wasn't one of the girls, but his presence did little to uplift your mood. You liked Wiglaf; he was smart, confident, and everything a girl could wish for. Yet, you often questioned if you truly loved him, if you loved him enough to be with him. He was the one who had asked you to be his girlfriend, and being the polite person you were, you had accepted. He came from a wealthy family, had impeccable manners, played Quidditch, and was almost perfect in every way. But you appreciated him more as a friend and couldn't bring yourself to admit it. You tried hard to convince yourself that he was the one, but your heart wouldn't comply. He was kind, brought you flowers, carried your books, walked you to classes, and treated you like the most special girl on earth. Yet, his presence stirred a surge of irritation.

"I was studying, you know, before you decided to interrupt me unannounced," you said stiffly, turning back to your work. Wiglaf stood in the middle of the room, unsure of how to proceed.

"So, no greeting? No 'Hello, my dear boyfriend who decided to ditch a party to come and see me'?" he remarked sarcastically. "And it's not like you're not always studying.

Nothing new really," he muttered under his breath. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Well, I didn't ask you to come see me," you said matter-of-factly without turning around. His frustration was evident as he moved closer to you.

"And not all of us have a rich father to secure a job at the Ministry as soon as we graduate, you know," you said, tone sharp. He sat beside you and sighed heavily. Dressed in a blue sweater and casual dress pants, he looked dejected.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," he said softly. You still refused to look at him. "Sure," you mumbled, uninterested.

"And anyway, if you marry me, you won't have to worry about things like that," he added, beaming with self-satisfaction. You froze, trying to process his words. "Excuse me?" you said, clearly offended. It wasn't unusual for women not to work after graduation, but you had made it clear that you intended to. His casual joke about it now was hurtful. You had hoped he understood you better. Even if you did marry him, you wanted to work and maintain your

independence. You didn't want to rely on anyone, especially not someone you weren't sure you truly loved.

"What's up with you?" Wiglaf groaned. "You're always so wound up and offended by everything I say.

You're always busy studying, and it's always some excuse for why you can't go or can't do this or that. You never actually want to spend time with me." His voice rose with anger. "So far, I'm the only one putting any effort into this relationship It's supposed to be a two person job.”

You frowned and buried your face in your hands. "Wiglaf, I'm not in the mood for this right now. I want to study and go to sleep. Can we please save this lecture for another time?" you said wearily.

"No!" he thundered unexpectedly.

"You don't get to do this. You don't get to treat me like some dog on a leash," he hissed. You sighed, exasperated. "Oh, come on, stop acting childish, Wiglaf," you said, rolling your eyes as you began packing up your papers. You had no intention of continuing this argument; all you wanted was to go to bed.

"I come here, ditching all my mates to spend time with my girlfriend, who doesn't even bother to greet me, and now I'm the one acting childish?" He stood up, his frustration reaching a crescendo. "Oh, please," you muttered, standing up as well. As you tried to gather your papers, they slipped from your hands as Wiglaf gripped your wrists. The sudden contact shocked you, and your eyes widened in surprise.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson," he said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. You could see the lust taking over his gaze. "Wiglaf, let go of me. I'm not in the mood right now," you said, your patience fraying.

But he was too enraged to listen. He pulled you closer, his grip painful.

"Wiglaf, let go! You're hurting me!" you protested, struggling against his hold. Instead of relenting, he pressed himself against you and forcefully kissed you, gripping your face and preventing you from breaking free. In a desperate attempt to escape, you kicked him in the shin. The contact caused him to release you, and he hunched over in pain. You stood there, stunned by your own actions while he grunted, recovering from the kick.

The room was silent except for his pained breathing.

When he regained his composure, his eyes burned with rage. "Wiglaf, I-" you started, but before you could finish, he slapped you across the face.

The force of the blow left you reeling, and you felt the sting and warmth of blood on your lips. Wiglaf stood there, stunned, as if he couldn't fully grasp what he had just done.

Your fight-or-flight response kicked in, and you pushed past him, fleeing the room. He didn't try to follow you.

After a few moments, he collapsed on the floor, staring at the floorboards as he grappled with the gravity of his actions.

As you ran through Ravenclaw Tower, a whirlwind of emotions swept through you: shock, shame, disgust, guilt, sadness, and finally, red-hot seething anger. The only thought that brought you any comfort was the imagined cold, lifeless body of Wiglaf.

How could he do this after everything you had shared? It was unfathomable.

And that's how you found yourself sitting beside Tom Riddle on the shore of the Black Lake.

...and then I just left," you finished quietly. A heavy silence followed your explanation, and Tom's features darkened. You chuckled at the irony of it all. "Well, I suppose that's what l get for thinking that I-"

You didn't get to finish your sentence as Tom interrupted you. "I'm going to kill him." He stated plainly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You flinched at his violent intentions.

"What?" You quaked hoarsely. He couldn't be serious... could he?

"You heard me." Tom's eyes were sharp as he took a few steps closer. But you never knew Tom Riddle to be the type to joke about things like that.

"He dared lay a hand on what's mine, and now he's going to pay for it." His tone was cold.

What's his? By day, you were nothing but an academic rival to Tom Riddle, but by night, you were suddenly his treasured possession? What a twisted mind indeed. You sighed at his words, rubbing your temples, trying to make sense of everything. "Tom, you can't just-"

"Yes, I can and I will. Because tell me, do you not think about me when he's inside of you, when you touch yourself, when you wake up in the morning? You don't love him, Y/N. We both know it. And don't try to deny it. I see right through you." His voice was dark. "And don't tell me what I can and can't do. That's not for you to decide."You were stunned, your mind blank.

Tom Riddle was a confusing enigma.

One moment he hated you, the next he was willing to kill for you. For him, it was all the same. Wiglaf would just be another addition to his growing collection of Horcruxes. It was a win-win for him: a Horcrux, the removal of an annoyance, and you-all in one plan. Three birds, one stone.

Tom's body was now facing yours, and his cold hands brushed a stray hair from your forehead. "Don't waste your mind on people like him. I don't even know why you're with that dimwit..." he muttered quietly. His fingers traced the curve of your lip and the bloody spot Wiglaf's assault had left. As he touched you, the fire in your body reignited, and the magic you only felt around him came to life.

You never felt this way around Wiglaf.

With Tom, it was like you were alive for the first time. You burned for him.

You loved him. He knew it, and you knew it. Yet both of you understood it could never work. Your ambitions were far too... different.

You let your head rest on his palm, closing your eyes for a moment, letting all your worries fade away. Dreaming about a world in which Tom was capable of loving you. Or perhaps a world in which you were able to go against your moral compass and accept his twisted mind. You kissed his palm gently and then pulled away.

"I ought to get back to the castle before someone catches us. We'll both be in trouble." You cleared your throat and spoke.

Tom simply hummed in response.

Reluctantly, you moved away and started for the castle. Before you got too far, you turned to speak softly so he could hear you. "Good night, Tom."

His gaze was on you, but he didn't reply. You continued your way back to the castle, his eyes following your retreating form. When you were far enough away that Tom was sure you couldn't hear him, he spoke softly,

"Good night, my love."

The next morning, you didn't see Wiglaf at his usual spot at the breakfast table. You approached one of his mates to inquire about his whereabouts, wondering if he was hungover or something. But as you spoke to him, a look of concern crossed his face, and he regretfully explained that Wiglaf had ended up in the hospital wing the night before. No one knew how or why.

You felt a pair of eyes on you and turned to the Slytherin table. There they were: two onyx eyes staring back at you, deep into your soul, letting you know that once again, he had emerged victorious.

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

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jenscx · 6 months ago

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CALL IT WANT YOU WANT — yu jimin x f!reader

the self-on kode with karina had boosted your popularity as a solo member immensely. you find yourself invited to another show; nothing much prepared. yet, you weren’t exactly alone this time.

TAGS — fluff, lesserafim member!yn, flirty!karina, continuation of magnetic, lee youngji’s show, lowk crack

WORDCOUNT — 2.3k

your manager drops you off in front of an apartment complex. waving goodbye to him, and with a promise to not stir up any trouble, you enter the apartment building, nerves trembling. reaching the lobby, you press on the call button, dialling in lee youngji’s apartment number.

“hello!” you greet as youngji’s face comes into view.

“oh my,” youngji gasps, “hurry up before i leave!”

“this is your house though?” the video ends abruptly. you laugh as you enter the lift.

the lift slowly brings you up, a stranger eyeing you weirdly. pulling up the mask closer to your face, you resist the urge to run away.

the lift dings, and you exit, turning corners to finally reach her apartment. pressing on the doorbell gingerly, you start to remove your shoes. you hear youngji’s rapid footsteps as she approaches.

“y/n-ssi!” youngji shrieks. cheers resound from the small crowd of staff. cameras and lights form a semicircle, capturing your every move. you smile shyly at everyone, waving your hand.

“welcome to my house!”

“Is this your actual house?” you ask, “not like a set?”

youngji laughs, “what makes you think i can afford a set like this? of course it’s my actual house!” you nod, grin plastered on your face as you sit down on the cushion. youngji immediately starts introducing the various food items she prepared for you.

yet, when she points at a certain plate, your eyes widen in recognition as she states, “that’s for our other guest, she likes tonkatsu.”

“other guest…?” you repeat, “my manager didn’t say anything about another guest.”

youngji grins at you apologetically, “because we didn’t inform him about it! no worries, you should be well-acquainted with her!”

the staff laughs at your reaction, glaring at youngji who paces around the room.

the webcam rings again. you try to soothe your nerves by slurping up the noodles youngji had prepared. acquainted with you? and someone who likes tonkatsu? you couldn’t believe it. could youngji really manage to get..?

“karina unnie! welcome back to my house!” your heart drops.

the familiar idol peeks around the corner.

“y/n?” jimin gapes. you share a similar reaction. youngji claps gleefully at the interaction.

“welcome back my favourite unnie and my newest unnie!” your eyes narrow while jimin’s crinkle into an eye smile.

“please take a seat next to y/n unnie!” you tense up before shifting slightly to accommodate for the unexpected arrival. jimin grins, sitting down with her humongous bag. “hi, nice to see you again. you haven’t replied to my message yet.”

“i was busy,” you reply in a low voice. jimin only rolls her eyes and moves in closer. you feel your throat constrict at the closeness.

“youngji, can i have water please?” you ask. the girl mentioned immediately brings out a large bottle from the fridge, placing it on the table. she clears her throat, “okay, now that we are all settled! today we have y/n-ssi and karina-ssi!”

you cheer awkwardly along with the staff.

“this is the first time we have two people from different groups!” youngji exclaims, “unnie, of course, has been here before and y/n is here for the first time.”

youngji turns to you, “have you watched unnie’s episode?”

“ah… no i haven’t…” you glance at jimin apologetically. the idol turns to you, affronted.

“y/n, that’s so hurtful!” jimin pouts. you look away, coughing to mask the choking sensation caused by her big puppy eyes.

you take a large gulp of alcohol, youngji laughs at your expense.

“have you watched any of y/n-ssi’s content recently then?” youngji prompts.

jimin sighs, hands going to massage her temples exaggeratedly, “of course! i watched her vlog to japan and her dazed interview.”

you try to hide your red face behind the glass of alcohol, eyes darting from jimin’s piercing gaze.

“y/n-ssi, did you hear that? unnie has been keeping up with your content!” your ears flush maroon.

“sorry… i’ve been busy with stuff,” you defend yourself. jimin giggles, sipping on her miniature cup. her posture seems relaxed and calm, of course, since this would be her second time appearing on the show. meanwhile, you sit upright, meekly staring at youngji.

“how have you guys been? aespa’s having a comeback, right?”

jimin brightens up, “yes, it’s our first full album. we have a pre-release single called supernova and our title track is armageddon! please show lots of love since it will be our first time promoting a full album!” the staff breaks out in applause. you clap along.

“y/n-ssi!” youngji calls out, “are you going to buy their album?” you gape at youngji, “uh, sure!”

“shouldn’t you ask unnie for a signed copy?”

“ah… uhm, karina-ssi—”

jimin pouts at you, “call me unnie and i’ll give it to you!”

you feel faint at the close proximity of her beauty.

“unnie…”

the idol laughs, patting you on the back, “youngji, isn’t she so cute? her reaction is the opposite of minjeong but they’re both so funny.”

“what’s your mbti? wait no— i’ll guess!” youngji shrieks. even before she opens her mouth a second time, jimin swiftly answers, “istj!”

“oh, sorry, but even if you’re older than me you can’t just interrupt like that,” youngji deadpans. you choke on the water you were drinking. jimin only swats at the host, “i was helping you. you definitely couldn’t guess her mbti.”

you cough, “jimin is correct.”

“unnie, you’re istj? wow!”

“i think it’s quite obvious, no?” you ask, pointing at yourself. jimin shoots you a smile.

“how do you guys feel about your episode on self-on kode reaching five million views? it’s one of the most popular videos now. please say something to the camera,” youngji asks. jimin nudges you while she takes a bite out of the tonkatsu. you blush thinking about the video.

“i’m thankful for all of jimin’s fans who watched the video and enjoyed our interaction. it was my first time appearing solo and i was worried that my personality would be too timid and shy. but i’m glad our fans liked the video,” you smile at the camera, “to all the mys and fearnots, i love you all.”

youngji sighs, “unnie.”

“yes?”

“should we just get married? i think i should pay more taxes to witness your smile.”

jimin interrupts again, cheeks puffed with food, “no!”

the subtitle underneath would read, ‘in a fight between whales, the shrimp is the one that gets hurt.’

“y/n is mine,” jimin says after swallowing. you just stare at her incredulously.

“unnie, you can’t just claim people like that! what if y/n unnie doesn’t like you!”

“i don’t care, i met her first.” you think this side of jimin is incredibly childish. and cute.

youngji frowns but then bursts out into laughter, “okay let’s say, we share y/n unnie.”

jimin shakes her head.

“okay, pick between, no shin-chan or no y/n— let’s play a balance game!” your eyes widen as youngji yells. maybe too much energy was a bad thing.

“three, two, one, answer!”

jimin huffs, “no y/n…”

you chuckle, of course jimin’s love for shin-chan would prevail. you roughly remember the boo keychain she had given you last time after the shoot ended, thankful that you dealt with her nonsense.

you didn’t bother telling her you had fun. she could probably tell from the smile on your face.

“lee youngji, jay park or y/n? three, two, one—”

youngji slams the table, scoffing, “unnie, let’s just continue the shoot without you.”

jimin claps gleefully. as the idol laughs, her hand comes striking down on your back. you yelp in pain, surprised by the forcefulness of her slap.

“—oh! i’m sorry!”

you narrow your eyes at jimin, “was that on purpose?”

“i would never slap someone like that on purpose!” jimin was such a liar. you’ve been her victim many times.

“unnie, even y/n unnie is scared of you,” youngji says, bringing out a candy ring from her pocket, “that’s why, y/n unnie should marry me instead.”

you laugh loudly, reaching out your hand to receive the ring.

“hey, didn’t you give me a shin-chan ring?”

“that was in the past, it is all about the future—”

“i’m going to slap you next!”

while the two bicker, you slip on the ring, yet it doesn’t fit quite as snug as you hoped. a little loose around the edges, jimin notices your call for help. deft fingers wrap around yours, trying to tighten the ring. a snippet of her tongue pokes out, eyes focused on securing the ring. your eyes flicker to her face. it’s adorable how jimin is so concentrated.

“there,” her eyes shone, “it’s secure now.”

you look back at her, mumbling, “thank you, jimin.”

a voice breaks your eye contact, “i’m sorry, but is this a blind date? am i interrupting? should i leave?” youngji stands up.

you hastily try to pull her arm back to sit down, “no!”

“yes!” jimin nods. you glare at jimin, who pouts again. what was god thinking when he made jimin? did he not consider how many heart attacks her pout would cause?

“ah, young love,” youngji sighs, lamenting as she sits down again, “unnie has mentioned you countless times on bubble.”

“oh, really?” you turn to jimin, in disbelief.

jimin scowls, “lee youngji, don’t buy my bubble just to tease me.”

“i didn’t buy your bubble!”

“ah, you bought mark’s one, right?” you ask, remembering the episode with twice. youngji nods excitedly, “you watched nayeon and chaeyoung unnie’s episode?”

you nod, “i’m a once, it was a very fun episode.”

“unnie, flatter me more and i’ll ask them to text you.”

laughing, you shake your head, “it’s okay, i’m happy being a once and watching their content.”

“i heard you were a fan of got7 too.”

“yes, ahgase was actually my nickname in the self-on kode episode.”

“jimin unnie, you said you liked older women in the episode,” youngji asks, “how did you feel when you found out y/n unnie is younger?”

“of course i was still happy! i liked y/n ever since lesserafim debut,” jimin says, “and park y/n, you watch twice but not aespa content?”

your eyes widen as you shake your hands in front of you, denying, “no, i watched twice’s episode a long time ago! i didn’t have time to watch yours!”

“what if it was minjeong who came? would you watch it?”

at this point, jimin was just having fun teasing you.

“i really didn’t have time,” you whine. jimin sighs dramatically, “maybe i’m the only one putting in effort in this friendship.”

“jimin unnie, i think you should consider acting,” youngji says out of the blue, “like a first love turned ex type of drama.”

jimin laughs. you could definitely imagine jimin acting. but maybe for the sake of your sanity, she shouldn’t act in any romance drama for now.

“have you guys met recently after the self-on kode episode? all your fans have been wondering and ah! did you see the article about y/nrina’s outing?”

you roughly recalled such an article. chaewon had showed it to you. it was a few weeks after the episode had aired and jimin wanted to go out. you had agreed, and unbeknownst to the two of you, there was a fan who took a photo of you at the restaurant.

“we went to a photobooth, and to the arcade. i think fearnots may know but jimin won a plushie there, the cute cat one that i posted on weverse. then we went to go eat.”

youngji pulls out a piece of paper, the photo printed on it.

“lee youngji, what is this prop?” jimin asks.

“newest edition to our show!” youngji says proudly, pointing at the two familiar figures, “can you explain this photo?” it was the trending photo of jimin and you fighting over the bill before jimin ended up handing her card to the waiter, happily smiling at you.

“jimin wanted to pay the bill and i disagreed, wanting to split half-half,” you explain, “we played rock paper scissors and jimin won, so she paid.”

jimin grins, looping her arm through yours, “but next time y/n is paying!”

“next time, will you guys invite me too?”

“sure!” you exclaim, “we can go eat pork belly. let’s shake on it!” you extend your hand, grasping youngji’s and shaking in a firm grip.

youngji pulls back, eyeing her hand as she says, “i’m never washing this hand again.”

“lee youngji—”

“ah, unnie, isn’t it time for you to go home?” youngji perks up. jimin shakes her head, “i wanna stay here longer.”

“unnie, don’t make me call your manager,” youngji turns to you for help.

you sigh, grabbing jimin’s humongous bag and trying to get her to stand up, “jimin, please get up.”

jimin resists for a few seconds. you smile shyly at her. she finally relents.

turning to the camera, you grin, “thank you for inviting us today, youngji! i had a lot of fun and so did jimin.”

“thank you for coming!” youngji smirks, “and thank you for dragging unnie home! let’s stay in contact y/n unnie!”

you wave goodbye at the crew and drag the frowning jimin out of the apartment. after successfully reaching the door, you put on your shoes. jimin’s arms wrap around your back as she sighs, “y/n…”

“hm? what is it?”

“i want a kiss.”

you smack her shoulder, “no, get off me.”

“please y/n! i didn’t even tease you that much this time! and if youngji can ask for your hand in marriage, you should allow your girlfriend to ask for a kiss!”

“on the cheek.”

“no!” jimin points at her lips, “here!”

glossy, red and plump. your eyes zero in, but you shake your head, “no, jimin. control yourself. we’re still outside youngji’s apartment.”

jimin huffs, sulking as she puts on her shoes.

“in the lift,” you say, “i’ll give you a kiss in the lift.”

your girlfriend perks up, tying her shoelaces with a speed unknown to mankind. you giggle at her eagerness.

“y/n, hurry up!” jimin yells, pulling your arm towards the lift lobby.

nothing has really changed. you still can’t find yourself denying yu jimin. even after she’s become your girlfriend.

#aespa #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #karina x reader #karina #yu jimin x reader #jimin x reader

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lxndonorris · 8 months ago

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Chocolate- Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smutish, Teasing, light touching Charles is your best friend and you're joining him in Australia. However, Pierre pranks the two of you with some spicy chocolate x word count: 1930+ taglist: @game-set-canet mentions of Pierre :P requested by anon :) feel free to request in my askbox gif by me

The scorching Australian sun beats down on the bustling Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit, where the roar of Formula 1 engines fills the air. Among the throngs of racing enthusiasts, you stand nervously, your heart pounding with excitement. Charles, your best friend and Ferrari's star driver, invited you to spend the weekend with him at the track, a dream come true for any racing fan.

As you stand inside the Ferrari garage, Charles flashes you a mischievous grin. "Ready to cheer for me?" he asks, his eyes sparkling brightly.

"Absolutely," you reply, barely able to contain a giggle. "I can't thank you enough for this opportunity, Charles."

"That's what friends are for, right?" He says, running a hand across his chest to button up his racing suit, getting ready to jump into his race car.

He zooms out of the garage and onto the track, while you watch the screen with a mix of excitement and nervousness. To calm your nerves, you brought yourself some chocolate from Charles' motorhome. He told you he got them from Pierre earlier today, and both of you enjoyed a bar before this training session—it tastes so good.

As you wait for Charles to finish his last training session for the weekend, the anticipation bubbles within you, heightened by the thrill of the fast-paced racing world.

Clad in his Ferrari shirt and cap, you feel a strange sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins, mingling with the nervous excitement that pulses beneath the surface.

When Charles finally emerges from his car, his presence seems to command the entire paddock. His aura is magnetic, drawing you in with an irresistible force. In one swift motion, his helmet and balaclava come off, revealing a face flushed with exhilaration.

He exchanges a few words with his mechanics, his focus on the training still evident in his demeanor. But then, as if drawn by an invisible force, his gaze finds yours.

His expression softens slightly as he runs a hand across his chest firmly, stroking himself through his racing suit. Charles licks his lips before turning his attention back to the conversation.

A tingling sensation erupts in your belly, sending shivers down your spine when he approaches you. As Charles closes the distance between you, palpable energy seems to radiate from him, his every movement infused with a magnetic charm that is impossible to resist. Time seems to slow down; everything around you is out of focus; just Charles remains the center of attention.

A confident swagger in his step, he exudes waves of effortless allure, seemingly pulling everyone's eyes on him. With casual grace, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, the strands falling back into place with practiced ease.

His touch lingers on his beard, his fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jawline before trailing down to his chest, where they linger for a moment longer.

You can't tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him and the way his features seem to be sculpted by the very hands of a divine artist. His confidence is intoxicating, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

"How was I?" He asks, his words washing over you in a warm embrace.

"Simply amazing." You smile as your skin heats up rapidly. Your face flushes with color, nearly as bright as your Ferrari shirt.

"Thank you; the car was so good." Charles remarks with a coy smile forming on his lips. "It felt amazing, like it let me do all that I wanted."

Despite your best efforts to concentrate, your attention keeps drifting, drawn inexorably to every nuance of his being. His lips move with fluid grace, forming each word with precision, and you can't help but be mesmerized by their subtle curve.

His beard, perfectly groomed yet with a hint of ruggedness, frames his jawline with an undeniable allure. As his fingers trail along it, you feel a surge of longing wash over you; the desire to reach out and touch the softness bristles alomst overwhelming.

But it is his hands that truly capture your attention—strong and calpable yet gentle in their touch. Every movement is deliberate, and each gesture imbued with a quiet confidence.

And then there are his eyes, pools of endless depth that seem to hold the entire universe within their gaze. They sparkle with warmth and mischief, drawing you in even closer.

Then, however, he leans in to whisper in your ear. "You look so good in that shirt," he breathes, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Almost as good as me out there on track, huh?"

You chuckle nervously, the air crackling with tension as you struggle to keep your composure. Charles' newfound flirtatiousness is both exhilarating and unnerving, stirring emotions within you that you had never dared to acknowledge.

His hands brush over yours before he separates himself, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as his eyes roam all over you again.

One of his mechanics calls him over, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Charles has been your friend for years now, and you can't deny the attraction you feel to this beautiful man, but this comes out of nowhere.

Later, you make your way back to his motorhome. The atmosphere grows increasingly charged, thick with unspoken desire. With each step, you find yourself drawn to Charles, unable to resist the magnetic pull that draws you closer together.

Inside his quarters, the air was heavy with anticipation, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your racing hearts. The scent of his cologne is all around you as Charles moves with fluid grace, his movements mesmerizing as he sheds his racing suit.

You watch, transfixed, as he lets the upper half of his suit hang down his waist, exposing his tight fireproofs that hug his form. Like a second skin, its fabric clings to his skin, and you can't help but admire the way they accentuate every contour of his muscular physique. Despite their attempt to conceal his strength, his powerful frame is unmistakable.

With causal ease, he flexes his arms, the fabric stretching taut against the bulging muscles beneath. You gasp silently as he stretches and moves, showing off his beautiful form.

But it is when he runs a hand over himself, stroking firmly along the curves of his chest and abdomen, that you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away. The sight is hypnotic, a tantalizing display of masculinity that leaves you breathless with desire.

Caught in the act of staring, you feel a blush creep into your cheeks as Charles' eyes meet yours. But instead of embarrassment, there is a playful twinkle in his gaze.

"Like what you see?" He winks, a mischievous grin quirking the corners of his lips as he teases you with a knowing look.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You raise your hands slightly, but he doesn't mind you watching him.

"I don't know. I'm so horny right now." He lets out a low moan that gives you goosebumps.

Unable to suppress the surge of desire that courses through your body, you close the distance to him, your hands trembling as they reach out to touch him.

His body is warm beneath your fingertips, eliciting a soft gasp as your boidies collide in a frenzy of longing. As your hands venture forth, a hesitant yet undeniable curiosity guiding its path, you feel warmth and a tingling sensation run through you.

Charles stands before you, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the fabric of his fireproofs offering little resistance to the exploration that lies ahead.

With a tentative touch, you allow your fingers to trace the contours of his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin barrier of fabric. Each ridge and curve elicits a soft gasp from you and an even softer yet guttural moan from him.

Charles breath hitches at the touch, his gaze locked with yours in a slient exchange of longing and desire. Emboldened by his response, you press your hand firmer against him, reveling in the sensation of his warmth seeping through his clothes.

His muscles ripple beneath your touch, a testament to the strength and athleticism that define him as a professional racing driver. And yet, beneath the surface, there is a vulnerability, a rawness, that speaks of the humanity within him.

"It feels so good," he growls, and places his hands on your waist, holding you close.

In the heat of the moment, you lean in, and your lips meet in a hungry kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. But just as your passion reaches its zenith, a sudden sound shatters the intimacy of the moment.

Startled, you break apart, your gazes locking in shared disbelief as you turn to see Pierre standing behind you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. His laughter echoes through the motorhome, mingling with the stunned silence that envelopes you.

"It looks like someone's been busy," Pierre teases, unable to contain his amusement.

Embarrassment floods through you, your cheeks burning as you struggle to find the words to explain the situation. But Charles simply chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist in a protective gesture.

"Thanks for the chocolate, Pierre," Charles says with a wry grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like they had quite the effect."

Confused, your gaze shifts between them, trying to make sense of the situation. Then, you notice him brandishing a box of chocolates with an impish grin.

Pierre's grin widens, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. "My pleasure," he replies. "I must say, if I weren't taken, I'd be falling for either of you. You both look so good."

You can't help but giggle at his remarks, even though you're still slightly confused, as the warmth of embarrassment creeps into your cheeks.

"Oh, Pierre, you're naughty," Charles chimes in, his laughter joining yours. "But I suppose I can't argue with you there."

Pierre approaches you, the box of chocolates held out in offering. You accept it, and your eyes fall on it right away.

"Spice up your life with our new aphrodisiac chocolate bars." You read to yourself and pout, "Really, Pierre?"

Pierre's hand lands on Charles' firm chest, a playful pat that elicits a low growl from him.

"Aren't you just the heartthrob of the paddock?" He teases, his hand stroking Charles' chest a few times, before Charles nudges him with his elbow.

"You're unbelievable, Pierre," he says, shaking his head with a shy smile.

Still feeling the effect of the chocolate coursing through his veins, Charles can't resist the urge to indulge in a bit of self-admiration. With a smirk, he strokes his own chest, his movements mirroring Pierre's teasing gestures.

Sensing the playful energy in the room, you join in on the fun, nudging Pierre playfully as well.

He giggles in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he returns the gesture.

"I think I should leave you to it then." Pierre licks his lips. "You can keep the chocolate." He smirks and shrugs before leaving the motorhome.

As his laughter fades away and you are left alone once more, a comfortable silence settles between Charles and yourself.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "You know, it felt good to hold you close like that," he admits, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability.

You nod, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his words. "Yeah, it did." You agree, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

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