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rahuratna · 3 days ago

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Synopsis: [Astarion x Reader/Tav] Wilful, witty, vulnerable and endearing, Astarion blossoms slowly under the ever-present sunshine of your love.

CW: Explicit sexual content, mentions of past trauma.

Banner art: by Steven Nederveen

Dividers: @aquazero

" ... time and again

No fire where I lit my spark

I am not afraid of the dark

Where your words devour my heart ... "

~ lyrics from Distant Sun (by Crowded House)

His scent infiltrates your dreams, the dry floral notes and the rusty tang of old blood, the unique underlying essence that never fails to bring his face to the forefront of your mind.

When he falls asleep, back pressed to yours, it is merely a prelude to how you wake the following morning, with his head tucked into the crook of your neck, or pillowed between your breasts, the soft white curls grazing your cheek as you keep your breathing light and even, so as not to interrupt his slumber. You know the gentle scent of his scalp better than anyone has a right to.

There is something that goes far beyond the pleasures of the flesh when you are together like this; two easily doused candle-flames that reach for each other, flickering, across the distance of bleak memory, pain and loss.

Such a tenuous connection, so easily fractured. Yet, even through all the trials you've faced thus far, losing him had somehow transformed into an idea you simply would not countenance.

The land might burn, your enemies might dance on the ashes of the people you had failed, but Astarion's fingers winding uncertainly through yours would be the only sensation you wanted to experience at the end of the world.

You thought about it now, as rain pattered on the roof of your tent, the inside dry and warm from the heat of the enchanted lamp. He had joined you a short while earlier, wordlessly, as was his habit. To give voice to the immensity of what he had to overcome, every single time he entered your tent of his own free will, would be more than he was capable of fully processing at this time.

He lay beside you now, with his chin propped against the top of your head.

He was awake.

"Astarion?"

"Darling."

"What kind of weather do you like best?"

He was silent for a while. You lay still, relaxed. When you were together like this, pauses in conversation could sometimes stretch out for ages, because time ceased to place its shackles on either of you. Even the most mundane topic was up for discussion. Words filled space with comfort. Stolen time was sacred time.

"Hmm. Weather like this, I suppose. It makes being inside feel ... somewhat better."

"You certainly weren't born for the outdoors."

He raised his fingernails for you to inspect.

"Absolutely not! Look at these beauties. Imagine if they became stained with grass, or earth, or worse still ... chipped."

"That would be grievous indeed," you concurred with hushed solemnity.

A low rumble of amusement made its way up through his throat.

"What about you, my dove? If I could guess - "

"Cooler weather. Maybe breezy."

His touch skims, feather-light, up your arm. In times past, such an action would have been a clear provocation, an invitation to something more intimate. You acknowledge it in your mind, absorb it, like a plant takes in sunlight. Astarion is your sun, small and fitful, burning you down to the bone when you least expect it, fighting for his place in your universe.

You reach out, fingertips brushing his. He pauses, allowing your hands to connect, palm to palm. His fingers are longer than yours, strong, clever. You've seen him take apart complex locking mechanisms with such ease, the same ease with which he'd unraveled your body the first time you'd been together.

"Where did you learn to pick locks?"

He lowered his hand and lay back, staring at the roof of the tent. You splayed out at his side, two children watching the imagined turn of the heavens.

"I ... think I learned it from a criminal. One I represented in a case, long ago. He was talkative. Couldn't shut him up, really. Told me how he had cracked a simple safe. I followed his instructions on a similar safe, as a demonstration."

"And you succeeded?"

You could almost sense the curve of his mouth.

"On the first try. He was so proud. Ha. Called me a natural."

You turned your head, smiling slightly. He looked self-satisfied, in that manner of a cat that gets into the choice cream.

Gods, he was lovely to look at, here in your tent, with you. Your gaze traces the impossibly artful tangle of pale curls, the elegant bridge of his nose, the sharp corners of his scarlet eyes and the movement of his perfectly curved lips.

He cocked an eyebrow, expression growing predatory, knowing.

"Darling, you're staring."

You laughed.

"Do you blame me?"

"Honestly? No."

He propped himself on an elbow, playfully prodding at your face until you're forced to swat at him. He sobered suddenly, hands falling away. You suspect you know what he's about to ask. It's never far away from his thoughts, after all.

"Is this enough for you? Just talking? Just falling asleep together?"

You also know by now that words aren't adequate to allay his fears. Turning over on your side, you face him, fingers tracing softly over the profile you'd admired a few moments ago. You smooth out the worry lines on his forehead, the skin cool and smooth as marble beneath your touch.

"This is more then enough. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because these are the things I've always wanted."

Your index finger trails down to the tip of his nose, where you decide a kiss needs to be placed. He leans forward, unknowingly.

"You wanted ... this? How we are now?"

"Yes. A lover is nice and all, Astarion, but I've always wanted a partner. Someone to laugh with. Someone to grouse to. Someone to sit with their back to mine in the cold and share my bread with me. Someone to whisper to when the darkness grows closer."

He is silent for a bit, hesitating. You pass your thumbs across the high cheekbones, watching as he falls slowly into the comforting familiarity of the contact. When he speaks, something bitter catches in his throat.

"But I'm not ... capable of some of those things, you know. I can't keep you warm with my body. I can't laugh like others do. I can't eat with you, nor can I claim that darkness hasn't found a permanent home inside me."

You stroke across the corners of his mouth, avoiding his lips and then track upwards once again, along the delicate point of his ears, into the feathery silk of his hair.

"That's all right."

"It is?"

"It is, because I say so. Astarion, very few people actually end up inhabiting the castles they build in the air. Sometimes, they find a real home. A home that's so much better. A place they belong."

His voice has now sunk to a whisper.

"Am I ... that to you?"

"Yes."

He is silent, and you don't press him. Sometimes, it is better to inform him of the way you feel and to give him time to mull it over. He shifts, restless, before planting a sudden, rather solid kiss on your lips.

There is no artifice behind it, no coy seduction. It is surprisingly factual, a statement of feeling, of earnest intent.

"I'll have you know," he states seriously, "that I won't have you comparing me to some homely log cabin. Oh no. I'm nothing short of a stately, luxurious home, built on the side of a sharp precipice, overlooking the most glorious snd treacherous sea."

"That's a rather precarious position to be in, don't you think?"

He sits up on his haunches, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes now animated and captivating.

"But that's half the fun! Will a terrible tempest come along and sweep us away? Will a sea monster rise up from the depths and capture us in its jaws?"

His feral grin is now infectious. You straighten and face him.

"You're only thinking in terms of disasters! That's poor planning. What about the subtle magics of the air that work directly against rock over time? Erosion is as dangerous as any sea monster, you know. Just a tad less showy."

"And what, darling, do you suggest we do about this mortal peril we find ourselves in?"

"We do exactly as we've done so far. We hammer the walls furiously into place, then drink wine and dance and stamp our feet to see how the repairs hold up."

He throws back his head and lets out a laugh, warm, heady, the kind that roughens around the edges and brims with the wicked delight that you know has kept him alive, for all of this time. Unable to help yourself, you place a gentle kiss to the curve of his throat, moving away again, until he grasps your chin firmly and tugs you back.

His mouth is a stark contrast to the way his fingers sink almost desperately into your cheeks, a gentle mapping out of teeth, tongue, sealed with the exquisite drag of his fangs across your lip.

Forehead pressed to yours, he breathes out the words, as if they've been chained in the heavy confines of his chest.

"I want to ... I want ... you. I want ... this."

He has said the words before, under different circumstances. You know what he is referring to. Gently, you push him back. The dim light turns the red of his gaze to the flesh of a pomegranate, tempting, yielding, so easily crushed between your fingers.

"Astarion ... you don't have to - "

"I know. I know you'll wait for me for God knows how long, and I don't know why, because I - "

He bites his lip, but changes tack.

"The reasons ... are important. I know that better than anyone. But I don't want to think. I want to feel. I want to be able to just do this without - "

Worldssly, you draw him towards you, cradling his head against your chest, a return to the familiar. It's the only message that's ever mattered, at least, to you. That he always has a place, whether in your open arms, or across the breadth of the world, or in another realm altogether.

He'll occupy a space that can be filled by no other, with his easy charm, his bruised smile, the bitter twist of his spirit and every sharp edge that slices you open and infiltrates the furthest corners of your heart, nesting there as if the scars that form around them are the most cherished haven.

"What do you want, Astarion?"

"To feel you."

He speaks into the hush of your tent, his breathing laboured. If you had been anyone else, you might have mistaken it for sheer arousal, nothing more. You know better.

He is nervous. He is letting you see it.

You place your hands on his shoulders and he lowers himself, propped on his palms on either side of you. You consider him, warmth and sorrow blooming simultaneously in your chest.

"You'll tell me? If anything I do makes you feel ... "

"Yes, my love. I'll ... yes. Right away."

"Stay still. Keep your eyes on me," is the soft command you give him.

You undo the laces on his shirt, sliding it from him. His skin gleams with otherworldly pallor, and the knowledge of what had been carved into his back filters into your mind. You cannot make him forget, but you can remind him that touch can be tender too.

Such is the way you handle him, as the shirt is pulled away from his torso fully, the ridged planes of his lean abdomen fluttering slightly under your fingers. He is hyper-sensitive to the sensations you bring, a temporary spike in his breathing.

This is nothing like your previous encounter, when he had confidently displayed himself, instructing you on how to please him. You watch the lift of dense, dark lashes, the hesitancy in his glance, the way he raises his head and arches his neck to gift you the same vulnerability always granted to him when you let him feed.

You keep your palms flat against him, grounding him, as you run them over throat, delicately trace collarbones, stroke down over the curve of his pectorals, down, down, until you stop right above the buckle of his belt before repeating the process.

His breathing evens. He leans down to capture your lips, a little more steady and with more of his old flair. He nips lightly down on your chin, playful.

You don't want him to inhabit the persona he'd worn for so long as some kind of defense, and this definitely feels different. As fraught with nerves as he was, he is regaining some of the self he only showed when you were safely ensconced away from the world.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, and he lets out an involuntary groan, low and wanton, a sound that spikes jagged heat all the way down the front of your body.

Before you have time to register his actions, Astarion lowers himself, pressing you into the bedroll. There is no art to the way he rolls his hips against yours, no finesse to the way he clumsily mouths your neck, eager, warm.

"Astar - ahhh - slow down, you - "

"Can't, my sweet - oh yes - I feel - want you so much. I - "

He tugs down your trousers, dragging your underwear away with it. As much as this seems far more organic that anything he's done before, the heated throb of arousal doesn't distract you from the fact that he is rushing things, perhaps in a frantic bid to prove that he can do this.

You clamp your thighs together, temporarily denying him access and he sits back on his haunches, panting. The raw hunger with which he regards you makes you as slick as melting ice. You have both gone so long without sex, something you were more than happy to accept. You know all too well, however, the cost of succumbing to pure lust when there was something far more significant at play.

"I know what you want - "

"Then let me have it. I'm no fragile bloom, my sweet - "

"Astarion."

You stifle a smile as he huffs and folds his arms.

"Fine. I'm listening. But don't delay. I need you."

The ache in his voice almost has your legs falling apart again, but you hold firm.

"Can you take everything off?"

In reply, he stands and unbuckles his belt, but then pauses and shoots you a mischievous look.

You know that look. Your mouth twitches.

"What are you up to?"

"Giving you a show, that's all."

"Oh Gods, is now really the time for - "

"Well, since you're being so stiff, let Hortensius help you along."

"Please, not Hortensius."

"But darling, he's already here. Now, be nice."

He sucks in his cheeks, in the manner of one of the high end fashion models of the Upper City and wags his hips from side to side, lips projecting in an exaggerated pout as the pants slide from his hips. Your smile turns to a helpless quiver of suppressed merriment as he kicks the offending article away and then grasps his rigid member, advancing on you without ever losing the expression.

"My name is Hortensius Dickanthropus and you, my dear, are about to be subject to a most thorough porking."

You lower your voice, soft and breathy.

"Oh my, Hortensius, I don't know how my poor little flower will take all of that."

Astarion drops to a predatory crouch, crawling over to you. His grin is wide, canines toothily on display.

"Ah, my blushing maid, don't be shy! I may have a horse's cock, but I'm going to be as delicate as a pixie."

You cover your breasts in false modesty as he slides down alongside you.

"A pixie? I saw a pixie in my bushes last week. They're so ... naughty. And fast. Are you going to piston me into the middle of next week, Hortensius?"

"With pleasure. I'm going to piston you like the Steel Watch itself is between your legs - "

Your composure gives way and you slap at his shoulder.

"Not the fucking Steel Watch, for God's sake - "

"Why?" His fingers dance over your hips. "Maybe create another little Foundry down here - "

You're now shaking with laughter and Astarion watches you, the cheeky smirk slipping by inches, eyes kindling with an infinite warmth and adoration that only you are party to. You realise, as your mirth fades, that you had been carrying a great deal of tension too, and that he'd effectively dragged it away from you, deconstructing the last barrier; your fear of hurting him.

In spite of your earlier fervour, you clasp his cheeks between your palms and press his forehead to yours, staying like that for a while. He does not object, nose nudging sweetly against yours.

"Astarion, I want to try something."

"Go ahead."

In truth, you'd learned this minor illusion from Gale, whose knowing smile had almost had you running for the hills when you'd first asked him to teach it to you.

Fingers extending upward, you closed your eyes and focused on the Weave, drawing it closer to you, shaping with precision. Astarion exclaimed softly and you dropped your hand, ready to behold your work.

A fall of many-hued petals, delicate as snow, drifted down from the roof of the tent, each disappearing as they settled on the bedroll and your reclining forms. A pleasant scent, earthy and reminiscent of a forest clearing in the springtime, permeated the air. Soft golden motes danced between you, each emitting a delicate luminosity.

Astarion was watching the display with amused delight, allowing you to catch him off guard. Tipping him over onto his back, you took in the sight of him, fully nude, satiny skin and curls dusted in the remnants of illusory wildflowers, indigo, variegated red and yellow, rich royal purple and the dusky blush of dawn.

"You're so lovely. And free."

You banish petals with your caress, all the way down to the perfectly carved valley of his pelvis.

"I want the world to stand still when I look at you because there's no room for anything else in my mind."

He stops you with a finger to the lips, rising so that you're both lying on your sides, facing each other. He wears his composure well, through long habit, but there is something wild and desperately cast in his eyes.

"And I'm free because of you. Don't you forget it."

This time, nothing interrupts the slide of his skin on yours, the crushing, breathless intimacy that knows no bounds. There is no artifice here, no subtle trick or sly gleam of eyes watching you beneath hooded lids.

Astarion keeps your faces close together, watching every contortion of your features, drinking you in and opening himself to you entirely. He raises your leg onto his hip, still facing you as his fingers slip down, down, between your bodies.

You gasp as he strokes over your folds, his mouth coming down on your throat. His fangs sink in, only breaking the surface, right at the moment his fingers breach you. Crying out, you cling to him, drawing answering moans as he rocks against you.

His lips brush yours, un-coordinated, wet against the sides of your mouth. You taste the slight metallic tinge of your own blood, lost in heady ecstasy as the heat of his exhalation mingles with yours, rough and uneven. He nudges you when your head tilts back, keeping your eyes on him.

His fingers are now coated with the dewiness of your arousal, and he drags them up between you again, surprising you with just how wet he has made you in such a short time. You watch, breath hitching, as he slides them over his own hardened flesh, tracing pearly fluid down from the tip, coating himself.

You turn to lie on your back, but firm fingers grasp your hip, holding you in place. He tugs your leg further up on his waist, earning a soft gasp. You're more accessible to him like this, more vulnerable.

"Darling, I can't wait any - "

"Astarion, please."

Your soft plea triggers an almost animalistic movement from him, as he grinds upwards, pushing against your entrance. You're almost sobbing now, clutching at him, begging him. At his mercy, you bite your lip hard when he works himself in, sliding into the tight grasp of your heat.

He is trembling, you realise, ecstasy and agony in equal measure, chasing each other across his face as he pushes deeper, burying himself within you, staying with you. Even with the intensity of what you're both feeling, he keeps you in place, the hand that had stroked you now holding your thigh over him.

He begins a measured pace that quickly devolved to one of instinct, slowing down so that you clench around him, speeding up until your back arches, swallowing your disjointed whispers as he watches you come undone, and in doing so, comes apart himself.

In this golden time, you understand that you have never been more completely aware of another, of the muscle that ripples under alabaster skin, of the rapidly cooling sweat on his chest, of the way his scent winds around you, the way his body moves against and inside yours. He has taken your blood into himself, so many times, consumed you in so many different ways, and yet, this was wholly new.

Astarion isn't teasing you endlessly. He isn't bringing you to the brink, and releasing you, which is his specialty, as you're fully aware. He's throwing himself headlong into the passion of a true union, every thrust bringing you both closer to the dazzling precipice.

He is reckless in his lovemaking, somehow striking that balance between base urgency and shattering tenderness. You can see the building euphoria when your eyes meet his, the knowledge that this moment belongs to both of you, untainted, spun out in indestructible threads that bind you to each other.

You are close. You let him know, through the pale crescents your nails leave on his shoulder and side, through the way your voice rises, the way your hardened nipples push into him as your whole body stiffens and prepares for mind-numbing, white-hot pleasure, the way you take his fingers into your mouth with hedonistic abandon.

He drinks it all in, tracking every movement, every glimmering bead of sweat, every minute crease between your brows. Fighting back years of conditioning, he holds you impossibly closer, your body a shield against the memory of every meaningless, sordid encounter.

Your eyes drag open, tears glistening where they have gathered at the corners, slipping down across the bridge of your nose, bringing the sight of his face to sudden clarity.

You let him see it, all of it; the moment your climax crashes like a wave over every sense, that most secret of faces. You let him see that he is the only one who can bring you to this place, this endless horizon that curves across your vision like a shard of jacinth.

Astarion is now gasping endearments. They fall from his lips in a litany, one declaration melding into another. You hold onto him as your own mind slowly clears, senses thrumming with the aftermath of the pleasure he has brought you.

He is close.

You surrender complete control to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hips lift from the bedroll in fitful abandon, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

"My ... my sweet, I'm - ah - you're so - don't know what you - "

At any other time, seeing Astarion, with his mastery of seductive words that bordered on legendary, in this barely coherent state, would have been cause for wonder indeed. As with all else, however, you took things as they were, treasured them.

Here, with you, he didn't have to be that. Here, he needed no flowery phrases and practiced gestures. Here, he was yours, in wiry strength and hidden fragility, in biting humour and those rare moments of stark realism, when he did his best to protect you from a world who's cruelty he had experienced all too many times.

When he finally reaches his peak, lips drawn back from teeth, brow furrowed in supreme pleasure, tendons standing out on his neck as a series of guttural sounds escape him, you smooth your hands up and down his back, bringing him slowly back to you.

You press soft kisses across his nose, along his jawline, his body giving one last shudder as your lips ghost over his ear and you nuzzle into his hair. Slowly regaining focus, his gaze fixes on your face, a slow, radiant smile gathering, a stray ray of sunshine burning through overcast skies.

Something bubbles up in his chest, overflows into the almost non-existent space between your bodies. A peal of laughter, so bright, so free of pain, lancing through you like the keen point of an arrow, the barbs lodging somewhere deep in your chest.

You could listen to him laugh like this forever.

He finally releases you, rolling over onto his back, that same giddy smile refusing to diminish. One of his arms extends, drawing you close so that your head now rests on his chest, your shoulders encased in the solid curve of his arm.

"My love, my light, that was - "

His chest heaves again, and his head moves from side to side in cheerful disbelief. You can't help the grin that breaks across your own countenance.

"Careful, Astarion. You sound happier than the first time you drank from me."

"But this is better! This is - "

His enthusiasm cuts off, faster than words escape him. Something chokes him, holds the rest of sentence prisoner until he takes a heavy breath, releases it. The catch in his voice adds strength to your grip on him.

"This is perfect. This is ... everything I want it to be."

You remain silent, not trusting your own voice now. When he speaks again, it is so soft that you almost miss the words.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. Never for this."

Later, as the outside intrudes once again into the sanctity of your tent, when the rustle of the wind in the trees, the crack of new firewood given up to the hungry flames of the campfire and the distant song of nocturnal birds echoes back to you, you place your hand over where his heart should beat.

It had been somewhat disconcerting, the first time you'd felt the lack of that steady rhythm beneath your fingertips. Now, however, you felt something entirely different.

This was no empty void, no echoing palace of yesterday's torment. Astarion had come so much further than that. He was here, beside you, of his own free will. There was no such thing as true emptiness, not in a life as rich as this one, that of a man who had given up so much to walk, just once more, in the sun.

No. This space where vitality should make itself known was threaded through with so many scars, but from that barren landscape, verdant new growth came, tended carefully. You could see how it stole over him, and you, in every shared touch, every wound bandaged, every battle fought side by side, every new delight you found in each other.

It came like a thief, robed in night, and laughed as it took the title of queen, enthroning itself in your hearts. It had taken up the sceptre, usurped your earthly kingdom and banished all notion of loneliness.

Such was the nature of love, and so it would remain, until that final red sunrise came to claim you both.

@tattoo-of-a-bird Finally got the courage to write this one.

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 11 hours ago

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P*rn ☆ Chapter 5, Drive me crazy

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: This one is a doozy. I was a little stuck and I hope this makes sense. Next chapter will explain a little more about Sylus' life before moving next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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1 pm and you're just now making your first coffee along with your breakfast/lunch. You're not used to late nights anymore. Not like you were when you were still in school and partying. Well, "partying." Aka movie night with your friends and making stupid drinking games around the movies you were watching.

Lucky for you, it's Saturday. You've got a whole weekend left to fix your sleeping schedule. Fixing is a big word. Make it so that you've at least had seven hours of sleep before you get to work.

While lazily reading Tara's dramatic retelling of getting Kieran into bed, you notice a notification. One that usually only pops up when Red Crow, or Sylus, posts but it's Saturday. That's not his usual schedule. Frowning, you check the notification.

Red Crow liked your comment: "Raw, next question."

You feel as if you've just shat out your heart. "Cocky," you think to yourself as you tap the notification. It takes you to the comments under the video from last night and that's when you notice it... Your biggest nightmare.

You were horny on main instead of on your alt account and now he probably knows it was you. But now comes the real big question. Do you leave it there as a testament to your thirst for him, or do you delete it in hopes he hasn't noticed it was you to protect your sanity? You scroll a little through the comments and quickly notice that Sylus never likes any comments. "Shit, he definitely knows."

Still, you decide to delete the comment. If he saw it when he was drunk yesterday, then maybe there's a chance he doesn't remember or was just fucking around on his phone. The moment the comment disappears from your screen, there's a knock at your door. You're not sure who it could be. Maybe it's Tara. Did she leave anything yesterday? Or Kieran forced by Tara to apologize? But he would go to Sylus’ house for that.

By the time you're done wrecking you're brain, you're already opening the door and there stands the one and only Sylus. Suddenly there are no more thoughts in your brain, just the picture of Sylus in front of your door wearing grey sweatpants and a black tee that seems a size or two too small. You can see every muscle on his stomach and chest through the shirt. However, that's not even the best part. The best part is that he stretches and moves one hand behind his neck, making his tee rise up and showing the little happy trail that you've salivated over more times than you'd like to admit.

'Hey, sorry to bother you but I'm out of coffee.'

'Go to the store,' you grumble and try to close the door again but he pushes against it.

'Let me try that again,' he says, a playful but subtle grin on his lips, 'I'd like get to know you better over coffee. Preferably at your place.' It seems getting your brain fried is a regular occurrence when Sylus is around and you are suddenly awfully aware of how you look.

Yes, you showered this morning, but you aren't exactly dressed. You threw on a shirt and a big sweater over top with some absurdly stupid miffy pajama shorts. Your words get stuck in your throat and you only seem to be able to mutter out a weak: 'Why?'

He chuckles in response, the sound rumbling through his chest. 'You intrigue me. I'm curious what's going on in that pretty little head of yours.'

"He called me pretty," is the only thought that sticks and you want to hit yourself over the head for only picking up that part, but you remind yourself of the video he had made after meeting you. He must have ulterior motive. 'Nothing else?' A sly smirk appears on his face, like he had been banking on you asking a question like that. Like he had been practicing his response, and it comes out sticky as honey.

'Only with your willing participation.' You try to keep your bratty attitude but it's hard when he is so damn beautiful and so damn close and so damn hot. Goddamn!

'In your dreams, big boy,' you sass, 'come in before I change my mind.'

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

There's a tense sort of feeling as you both sit on your couch with coffee in your hands. He keeps watching your movements, almost as if he's studying you or stalking his prey. It makes you feel on edge and at the same time, insanely turned on. To push him off balance, you decide to ask a question that had been hanging in your head for a while now.

'How'd you get into it?'

'It?' He's teasing. His lip quirks up into a smirk again. He wants to hear you say it, hear you say what he does, wants to watch your reaction to it. You feel strangely alien in your own space.

'Porn.' You try to keep a straight face, but you can feel your ears heat up the slightest bit, and he fucking notices. You can tell he fucking notices. He's noticed everything so far. It's so fucking hot and so fucking annoying at the same time. You can only imagine how attentive he would be as a partner.

'I was doing voice acting for a while and got hired for some smut books,' he explains like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's the same as any office job, 'and I liked reading those books and the reaction people had to my voice. So, I tried my hand at posting some pictures of myself to see if people liked my voice and my body. After that I kind of rolled into it.' He takes a second to study your reaction and then asks you: 'And what do you do?'

'Interior decorating.' He nods.

'So I should've met you before I started decorating my place.'

'I don't work for free,' you retort.

'Neither do I,' he says, that damn smirk on his face again, 'but your reaction was more than enough payment for that video.' You're sure you're bright red now.

'I didn't request your services.' Why did you invite him in? Are you that desperate? He puts his mug on the coffee table and takes yours out of your hands to set it down next to his. Then he leans over you, one arm on top of the backrest of your couch, the other gripping the armrest behind you. Naturally, you lean back a little bit, tilting your head up to look at his face. He doesn't look predatory, nor dangerous. In fact, you feel like if you would say no right now, he would go home in an instant. It's strangely comforting.

'See it as a free trial.' He is impossibly close, closer than a stranger should be. Then again, you're not really strangers, are you? You are to him, but he's been on your mind for quite some time now. He's toying with you, he seems to want you for some reason. Barely knows you but it feels so familiar, so nice. You feel desired and... sexy.

'A free trial for what?' You absentmindedly bite your lip. A low groan slips from his lips in response, and he shifts his position on the couch. With one swift motion, his one leg is kneeling on the couch while he pushes your legs onto the couch so you're laid underneath him, your back against the cushions. His lips are next to your ear now.

'Worship,' he growls and ever so gently takes your earlobe between his teeth. You whimper in surprise. He lets go and moves on to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbones. 'Pleasure.' The hand that was on the armrest moves to your waist, slipping under your shirt and you shiver. 'And sex.' His words sound like a promise. A promise you would offer up your life for. You feel breathless as he leans back a little bit to admire your figure. That damn smirk of his, back on his lips as he sees your lust filled eyes. He definitely knows that comment was yours. 'What do you say?'

'You don't even know me,' you manage to mutter.

'I know enough,' he answers and leans down to press a featherlight kiss on the corner of your lips. A strange surge of despair rushes through you and suddenly your hands are behind his neck, entangled in his grey hair, pulling him towards your lips. 'So needy,' he teases, readjusting his knee on the couch to be between your legs, 'I thought you were worried I didn't know you. You wouldn't want to take advantage of me, would you now?'

His lips are only a breath away from yours, his eyes stare into yours intently. You tell yourself it's just sex, yet there's something soft in the way he looks at you. Something you can't quite place, because he shouldn't be looking at you like that. You've only just met him. 'What are you thinking about?'

'Why me?' He doesn't have a quick nor sly response to that. You can tell you've caught him off guard. His eyes widen a little and his head moves away the slightest bit, but you can't tell if it's because you've just asked the dumbest question in existence or because he does not know either.

'There's something about you,' he tells you, his tone no longer teasing but as serious as he can get, 'it's intriguing and I want to find out what it is.'

'Because I gave you a hard on when we first met?' He cracks. His serious demeanor disappears for a second, as does the sexual tension when he sits up on his heel trying to stifle a laugh. The hand that was under your shirt is now on his face, rubbing his jaw to hide his smile.

'You've got a dirty mouth on you, sweetie,' he comments, trying to get back into it but you've already propped yourself up on your elbows with the cheekiest of grins on your face.

'Shouldn't you be used to those kinds of comments by now,' you say, trying to provoke him even more. Truly, you don't know what it is about him that brings your brat out but you don't hate it. It's fun.

'They're different when you read them on a screen,' he answers, sounding almost sincere. Almost. Only if you hadn't known what he proposed so sweetly just a minute ago.

'Maybe you take me out some time and I'll try to behave,' you offer, feeling as daring. This is all so new for you but it just flows. There's no good reason for why you feel this way and yet it's fucking exhilarating. You don't want any of it to stop, but your ovaries are running your brain right now and you can't trust them. Not when it comes to men. They've shown that to you before. You need a second to calm down before you engage in anything that could someday become regrettable to you.

Though you probably wouldn't have minded sleeping with him right here and now.

Sylus doesn't answer you, he just hands you his unlocked phone. You type in your number, already regretting it when you hand it back to him and see the grin on his face. You've just given him so much power to tease you. Well, you should regret it. You think you should.

In reality you can't wait for what's to come.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

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Taglist

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@amywright

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ikeuspl4yg1rl · 3 days ago

Text

pl4yg1rl is live

now presenting... PL4YG1RL www dot pl4yg1rl dot com hot playgirls in your area !

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader x hyung line heeseung jongseong jaeyun sunghoon genre: smau, cam girl reader x hyung line, nsfw smau, romance, crack, fluff, angst, reverse harem warnings: nsfw mdni - adult themes 18+

i cannot control what content you consume, if you choose to ignore warnings, responsibility falls onto you for consuming the content. reader discretion is advised.

synopsis: being a camgirl was supposed to be a short stint, a way for you to get some quick bucks while trying to pay for university; what you didn't expect was to become so popular that you'd make thousands of dollars in one stream. you've never told your boyfriend!jake about your secret life and the longer you hide it, the more it seems like the truth is just dying to come out.

this fic is inspired by album "playgirl" by lolo zouai

character profiles status: coming soon reply to be added to taglist (ageless accounts will be ignored)

chapters: playgirl is now live here to chat all day meet me in the url lock up the bedroom door, log on add credit to continue chat kiss em all im young dont stop your crazy sexy dream girl's dead im not coming home back to you they never wanna keep it open take every part of me free trial over it? cancel it gushy gushy freak me right your free trial is coming to an end satisfaction guaranteed

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

#ikeuspl4yg1rl #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #park jongseong #jay x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enha smau #enhypen scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop smau #kpop fic

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sashiavi · 3 days ago

Text

♡·.Sashiavi's 2000 Follower Prompt Event.·♡

•··········•·············°·············•♡•·············°·············•··········•

Hello My Loves and Welcome To My 2k Follower Smutty Prompt Event!

Below I Will Outline the Rules and Information !

♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡

First, of course, the mushy stuff - I want to thank everyone for all the amazing support I've received through the time I've been doing all this ♡ Your kind comments, reblog tags and messages in my inbox always give me life.

•··········•·············°·············•♡•·············°·············•··········•

♡·.Information and Rules.·♡

•Submissions : Open Until 15.01.2025• AEST

For 2k Followers I wanted to do a Smutty Drabble/Fic Prompt Event!

Below are a Selection of Prompts and Characters for you to Choose from!

• Pick up to Two Prompts & Two Characters and formulate your Character(s) X Reader Request! - Send it into my Ask Box! If you are Off Anon, please make sure you have your Age somewhere visible on your page - This is an 18+ Event!

• I will always write an AFAB Reader with She/her pronouns in 2nd Person POV (You/You're/Yours) - I am most comfortable with this format :)

• I don't write/take requests for a specific body type, but if you would like to Request a specific Hybrid!Reader please feel free to! - This goes for Hybrid!Characters Too.

• Requesting Two Characters will yield a Threesome Scenario with the Reader - I won't be Accepting cross-fandom Crossovers or doing Separate Scenarios for Characters ^^

• Please feel free to Outline a Summary or a tease of Plot you'd like to see - The More Information the merrier! Certain Positions, Location or even Hard Limits you want to outline are welcome

• One Request Per Person! I will do my very best fulfill Everyone's Submissions - I aim to write 500-2k Words depending on how inspired I am feeling :]

Example Requests

- May I please request Wriothesley with Size Difference and Praise? Guiding the reader through taking him?

- I'd love to see Shane and Sam with the Public and Dirty Talk prompts! A threesome in the backrooms of Joja could be fun! If possible, can Shane be the Top as well?

- Can I request Puppy!Sam please? With Cock Warming for the prompt, I can imagine him being all squirmy <3

•··········•·············°·············•♡•·············°·············•··········•

♡Characters & Prompt List♡

♡·.Stardew Valley.·♡

- Including Hybrid Counterparts -

♡·.Genshin Impact.·♡

♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡

Some Prompts may fall under the category of Dark Content - Spread into alphabetical order for your convenience - Feel free to pick ANY TWO (2) Prompts

Aftercare | Aphrodisiacs | Begging

Biting | Blow Jobs | Bondage

Boot Worship | Breeding | Choking/Breath Play

Cock Warming | Collaring & Pet Play | Comfort Sex

Cuckolding | Cuddle Fucking | Cunnilingus

Dacryphilia | Daddy Kink | Dirty Talk

Double Penetration | Dubious-Consent | Edging

Foreplay Heavy | Free Use | Hate Sex

Knotting/Heats & Ruts | (Psudo)Incest | Overstimulation

Praise | Primal Play | Public

Sex Toys | Shower/Bath Sex | Size Difference

Somnophilia | Spanking | Thigh Fucking

Virginity | Voyeurism | Watersports

•··········•·············°·············•♡•·············°·············•··········•

♡·.Thank You All For Your Wonderful Support!.·♡

* Property of : SashiAvi - All Banners Made By Me *

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sp6ncers · 1 day ago

Text

platform boots — s reid

summary: reader decides that spencer would look good in her style, and gives him a make over

spencer reid x trad goth! fem! reader. fluff. 2nd person, pov switches.

warnings/content: harassment, mentions of sexual harassment and bullying, established relationship, idiots in love, reader is shorter than spencer, reader gets called a bitch but not by spencer, pet names (silly girl, baby, pretty boy, angel), kissing, kinda insecure reader

wc : ~ 3k

author's note : my 2nd tumblr fic now that im getting the hang of it! this is literally just a cute fluffy fic because i want to and every day i dream of alternative spencer reid 🙂‍↕️ not really any specific season in mind but i pictured longer hair spencer for this, maybe season 4 or 5 :)) sorry if this is ass i got lazy because i so much prefer writing angst ijbol

Being an alternative woman in public is one thing, but being an alternative woman whose boyfriend is practically the complete opposite of you is a whole different issue. You're used to the comments that get thrown at you — after all, you've dealt with that for years, since you started dressing "unconventionally" in middle school. You've learned to ignore the sexualising comments from teenage boys and old men alike, and you can easily tune out the disapproving glares from middle aged women. However, what you aren't as okay with is when people bring your boyfriend into it.

You and Spencer are sitting together on the train home from a museum date, your knees touching as he holds your hand, fidgeting with your rings. You feel the gazes of a group of young boys — no more than fifteen — not far away from where you sit. You decide to ignore them, like you usually do, and you just hope that they don't decide to yell at you like you sometimes have had people do.

Your gaze traces over your boyfriend, and you find yourself unable to suppress a smile. As the days are getting colder, he's been wearing more layers, and it's just so cute. You love the way his scarf is wrapped around his neck and tucked into the dark brown jacket he's wearing. The soft waves of hair that frame his face are even more adorable when they're brushing over the rosiness of his cold cheeks.

Feeling you looking at him, Spencer looks away from your hands and up to your face. "What?" he asks with a smile of his own as he sees your grin.

"Nothing," you reply, nudging your knee against his. "You're just cute."

He smiles shyly, a pink tint creeping across his face. "No, I'm not," he responds. He's never been good at accepting compliments.

Raising a teasing eyebrow, you let a joking scold taint your voice as you say, "Don't argue with me, Dr Reid."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles breathily, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Spencer's eyes fall to the floor, where your chunky platform boots rest beside his battered converse. He always loves it when you wear these boots, he thinks they're pretty with the silver studs you had glued onto them and the maroon laces you'd threaded through the eyelets. He's always admired how crafty you are, how you can make any basic item of clothing into something much more extravagant. Something else he loves about these boots is that they make you a little taller — still not as tall as him, but it makes it easier for him to kiss you.

Moving away from your boots, his gaze follows your legs, clad in two pairs of thermal tights beneath the long black skirt you're wearing. He'd watched you embroider the pattern of roses into the fabric a few weeks ago, practically in a trance. The way your eyebrows had been furrowed in concentration as your fingers swiftly worked was a beautiful thing to watch. He's convinced you could craft the galaxy with your bare hands if you wanted to.

Hazel eyes trace over your thighs and up your torso, flickering across the many layers you're wearing. He counts four — maybe five? — layers, which isn't surprising considering how prone to getting cold you are. The neckline of a lacy purple long-sleeve peeks out from beneath your Bauhaus T-shirt, which is partially hidden by a black zip-up that you had painted a pattern onto in bleach. Over the zip-up sits your baggy leather jacket, something you rarely leave the apartment without. A few necklaces decorate your neck, most of them ones that he had given you.

As his gaze finds yours again, he smiles. A cheesy, cute, I'm-so-in-love-with-you smile. When you smile back, his heart skips a beat. He loves the way the eyeliner cobwebs attached to the thick wing on your eyes shift with the movement of your pretty, black-painted lips.

"You're so pretty," Spencer tells you softly. He looks at you as if you'd just reached into the sky and handed him the moon.

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words — even after almost two years of dating, you still feel butterflies whenever he compliments you. You don't think that feeling will ever go away. You don't want it to. "So are you," you respond, giving his hand a squeeze.

As you say the words, the train slows to a halt at your stop. The both of you wait until it has fully stopped before standing and heading to the doors. As you do, the boys you'd caught staring at you earlier decide it would be amusing to yell at you.

"Emo bitch!" one of them shouts, his voice cracking embarrassingly. It almost makes you crack a smile.

Spencer squeezes your hand, a silent way to tell you it's okay and to not say anything back, but you're already glancing back at the laughing group with a cold glare. You part your lips to retaliate, but decide that your boyfriend is right. You stick to simply flipping them off as the two of you exit the train.

As you look back at Spencer, he gives you a pointed look. You shrug and say, "What? I didn't say anything." But you know you wouldn't have stayed silent if anything had been said about him instead.

You switch sides with him, slipping your hand into his as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. The walk home is quiet and peaceful, thankfully void of any more cruel comments from strangers. Spencer's hand is somehow warm in yours, despite the frosty air and cold breeze that bites at your skin. Fallen leaves crunch beneath your shoes as the wind nudges them across the ground.

When you reach your shared apartment, Spencer quickly turns up the thermostat as you both step inside. As you both shrug off your jackets and hang them up, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead — likely trying to determine how cold you are.

"Do you want a drink?" he asks whilst tugging off his converse. "Tea?"

"No, I'm okay," you reply, plopping down onto the floor to take off your boots. Unzipping one, you let out a little grunt of effort as you tug it from your foot. "You know what I do want, though?"

"What?"

"I want..." You pause as you pull off the other boot, biting your lip. "I want to put make-up on you. My kind of make-up."

His eyes find yours as he tilts his head slightly. "You do?"

You hesitate, unsure if his response means that he is repulsed by the idea and would rather lick the floor of your building's elevator than let you do that. Looking away, your voice falls quieter as you reply, "I don't have to. It was just an idea. Sorry. It was stupid."

"Hey, silly girl." He sits in front of you on the floor, moving your boots out of the way as he shifts closer. "It's not stupid. Look at me," he says gently, tilting your chin up with his index and middle finger so that he can look into your eyes. "It's not a stupid idea. And you don't have to apologise. If that's something you want to do, I'd be more than happy to let you, okay?"

The slight pout on your lips is so adorable he feels like his heart might explode.

"Are you sure? You don't have to say yes," you mutter shyly. "It doesn't matter, really. You can say no, it's—"

"Baby," he cuts you off in a gentle voice, his tone one that makes your stomach flutter. The motherfucker always knows what to say and how to say it to shut you up. "I'm sure."

Your lips twitch into a nervous smile. He thinks it's so incredibly cute how you're so shy and sweet when most people would assume other things about you based on your appearance. He thinks it's silly how people make assumptions on others based on how they dress. He thinks a lot of things, but his mind goes blank when you lean in and kiss him.

Immediately kissing you back, he smiles against your lips and rests his hands on your waist to pull you just a bit closer. Knees knocking together, you break the kiss with a giggle and tuck his hair behind his ear.

"Do you want to do it now, or later?" he asks.

"Now. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Spencer says, smiling as he kisses you once more before standing up and pulling you to your feet.

So you head into the bathroom together, but you decide he's too tall for you to be able to do it properly when he's sat on the counter. He laughs when you tell him that, and disappears into the bedroom while you gather the rest of your make-up. Once you have everything, you follow after him into the bedroom.

"Sit on the bed," you instruct.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies with a laugh, sitting down with his back against the headboard.

Giggling softly, you walk over and set the various items in your arms on the nightstand. As you move to sit on the bed, straddling his lap, you shrug off the zip-up and drop it onto the other side of the bed. Even while you're doing something as simple as reaching over to grab a headband, Spencer still looks at you like you are the eighth wonder of the world.

You smile at him as you gently push the headband into his hair, keeping it back off his face. It's gotten so long recently — not that you're complaining. You love running your hands through the soft strands, curling them around your fingertips. "You're so cute," you mutter. "My pretty boy."

You can feel the heat of his skin beneath yours as you cup his face between your hands and press a sweet kiss to his lips. Lips parting, tongues teasing each other's, his hands running up and down your sides, pulling you closer by the small of your back.

You break the kiss with a giggle, a string of spit attached between you. "Okay, we need to get started," you say through laughter as he licks his lips.

"One more kiss," he murmurs, leaning in and pecking you gently.

Smiling, you stroke his cheek for a moment before straightening up and reaching over to grab your moisturiser from the nightstand. Spencer watches you intently as you flick open the cap and squeeze some out onto your fingertips.

"It's cold," you warn him before you swipe the moisturiser onto his cheeks and gently rub it into his skin.

He doesn't mind the coldness of the liquid, just focusing on the feeling of your hands on his skin. He is pretty sure that your touch could make anything better.

He isn't sure if he is supposed to have his eyes open or shut as you dab some more onto his face, but he keeps them open so that he can look at you. The look of concentration on your face is so pretty.

He also isn't sure what to do with his hands — should he be touching you, or would that be a distraction? He keeps them lightly resting atop your thighs, knowing you'd tell him if you wanted him to stop touching you.

As you finish moisturising his skin, letting it sit for a few moments, you wipe off your fingers on a tissue and say, "You have really nice skin."

"That sounds like something a serial killer would say," he comments teasingly, a smile on his face.

"Shut up!" you giggle. "It's just a fact. Your skin is nice."

Swapping the moisturiser for a bottle of primer, you fall quiet as you flick open the cap. Soft hums of concentration vibrating through your lips, you rub it into his skin so that the make-up will actually stick to his face. His fingertips lightly trace rub circles onto your thighs as he watches you with nothing but awe and love in his eyes.

As you're blending out the white foundation onto his face with a damp beauty blender — he thinks that's what it is called — he wonders if he will look silly when you're done. Of course, he has never thought that you look silly when your make-up is all done, but he isn't you. To him, you look beautiful whatever you wear, however you present yourself. He's just not sure if this will suit him. Although, even if it looks bad on him, he'd let you do it over and over again until the end of time if it would make you happy.

Now that there is foundation spread evenly across his face, his skin feels kind of weird, but not exactly in a bad way. It almost feels tight, like something is pulling on it. It is a strangely nice sensation.

Spencer tries to stay still as you pat in the concealer beneath his eyes, his eyelids twitching slightly.

"Stop moving," you scold playfully, pausing your actions for a moment.

"I'm trying," he replies, his voice a breathy chuckle.

"Try harder."

"You're so bossy."

"You know you love it."

He smiles, amused. You're right, he does love it. He loves anything and everything that you do. Since the moment he met you, he has been completely whipped. Obsessed. In love.

After finishing the grey-ish contour on his nose and beneath his cheekbones, you start on the eyeliner. You decide to do something simple, rather than the more elaborate designs you sometimes do on yourself. Beginning to draw a wing from the corner of his eye, you will your hand to not shake like it usually does; you don't want to end up getting overly frustrated and having to redraw it fifty times.

Somehow, it goes smoothly, and you finish both wings without a problem. You use a black eyeliner pencil on his waterlines and add a smidge of dark purple eyeshadow to his lids before curling his lashes. How come men always have such luxurious eyelashes? you think.

"Okay, I'm not gonna put on false lashes, I'll just do mascara," you tell him, leaning over to grab one of your unused mascaras from the nightstand.

As you do, you shift too much weight and almost fall off the bed. Quickly, Spencer leans forward steadies you with a hold on your waist. "Careful there, angel," he laughs in a teasing tone. "You're so clumsy sometimes."

"Well, says the one who spilt coffee on the counter twice in one day last week!" you reply, giggling.

"I never claimed to not be clumsy," he counters, patting your thigh. "JJ is right when she says that my coordination drops off when I'm thinking."

"A wise woman," you muse.

"Very."

You smile, kiss his forehead, and grab the mascara. As you twist it open and wipe off the excess, you say, "Okay, just blink when I say to, okay?"

"Okay."

So you apply mascara to his stupidly nice eyelashes, dab a tiny bit of highlighter onto the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, and put a simple lip combo on his beautiful lips.

"Okay, there. I think it's done," you say. Quickly, you take it back. "Wait, I need to do your hair."

"Alright," he chuckles as you take the headband out of his hair, discarding it onto the nightstand.

You head off into the bathroom to grab your hairbrush, returning a moment later with it and a few hair ties. You manoeuvre him into the position you want — sitting more in the middle of the bed — and sit behind him on your knees.

"Your hair is so soft," you murmur as you gently run your fingers through it.

"You say that every single time you play with my hair," he points out, a smile in his voice.

"And it's true every single time," you reply as you start to brush his hair.

Spencer hums contentedly, his eyes falling shut as you brush his hair. He's always loved when you touch his hair, whether that is stroking it, twisting it around your fingers, or pulling it. He loves it all.

As you brush his hair, taking your time, you wonder if he will like it. You wonder if he's enjoying this. You wonder if he liked letting you put make-up on him.

"I would, maybe, dress you up in my clothes, but I don't think any of them would fit you."

He laughs softly. "Yeah, probably not."

"And my boots certainly wouldn't fit your gigantic feet," you tease.

"Maybe your feet are just tiny," Spencer counters jokingly.

When you're satisfied that his hair is thoroughly brushed, you part it down the middle, separating it into two even-ish sections. You braid each half, something you have always wanted to do with his hair but never asked out of fear of him saying no. But right now, he isn't protesting, which you take as a good sign.

"Okay, all done," you chime happily, letting the braids fall onto his shoulders.

"Done?"

"Mhm, done."

Hopping off the bed, you take his hands in yours and lead him into the bathroom. Before you step inside, you make him cover his eyes as you tell him, "Okay, you can't judge it because I'm not used to doing make-up on other people."

Spencer nods, practically itching to see his reflection. "I won't judge. I promise."

"Good. Okay, you— you can look now," you reply, standing beside him and looking at his reflection in the mirror as he moves his hands away from his face.

His reaction is hard to decipher, but at least he does not look repulsed. After a moment of studying his face, his lips twitch into a smile.

"It looks good."

"Really?" you ask, rocking back and forth on your feet as you fidget with your sleeves.

"Yeah. I— I mean, it's obviously not something I'm used to, but it's... cool," he says with a soft laugh, turning to face you.

You smile, biting your lip. "Good. Okay, good. I'm glad you don't... you know, hate it."

Smiling back at you, Spencer wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. "I could never hate anything you do."

"You're so cheesy."

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #x reader #goth! reader #fem! reader #alt! reader #alternative #alt #goth #trad goth

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aventurineswife · 2 days ago

Note

can you do march 7th + male!reader (they'd be friends) and the scenario would be the reader taking march 7th out shopping for a day?

A Day to Remember

Summary: You and March spend a fun-filled day shopping together at a lively space station market. March's excitement and curiosity lead the two of you through various shops as she picks out new camera gear and stylish boots. Along the way, you share laughs and create lasting memories, with the day turning into an unexpected adventure. It’s a simple day that strengthens your friendship, bringing joy and a sense of discovery.

Tags: March 7th x Male!Reader, Friendship, Fluff, Shopping, Lighthearted, Humor, Photography, Everyday Moments.

A/N: FINALLY A MALE READER REQ!! 🗣️🔥

[Credits for the header]

The Astral Express was bustling with energy as usual, but today felt different. March had been talking about wanting a new camera lens for weeks, and after some convincing, you'd finally agreed to take her out shopping for the day. You were both excited, but also uncertain about how it would go—March's adventurous spirit sometimes led her into trouble, and you weren't sure what kind of trouble a shopping spree would lead to.

"You sure you're ready for this?" you teased as you approached her, leaning against a pillar.

March flashed you a bright, excited grin, her eyes practically sparkling. "Of course! I’ve been dreaming about this day for ages. Who better to go with than my best friend?" She twirled around, the flow of her pink-and-blue overcoat making her seem like a whirlwind of energy.

"I guess I can’t argue with that," you said with a chuckle, offering her a hand. "Let’s go, then."

The two of you stepped out into the vibrant shopping district, where the sounds of merchants calling out their wares filled the air. March immediately darted ahead, her curiosity leading her to a stall with a variety of camera accessories. You caught up quickly, amused by her enthusiasm as she inspected every lens, filter, and strap with childlike wonder.

"Look at these! Imagine how much clearer the stars would look with this one!" March exclaimed, holding up a sleek, silver lens that shimmered in the light.

"I think you’ve got a good eye for photography," you replied, smiling. "Maybe we should check out the prices first, though."

March waved you off with a laugh. "Prices are for boring adults. I’m here for the experience!" She threw a playful glance at you, her cheeks flushing a little from the excitement.

You shook your head, unable to stop laughing at her antics. "Alright, alright. Let’s take a look at what else this place has to offer."

As you continued walking through the district, you could tell March was in her element. She darted from one shop to the next, trying on clothes, examining accessories, and occasionally snapping pictures of random objects that caught her attention. You followed her with a sense of amusement, content to watch her embrace the world with such joy.

"Hey! Look at this!" March shouted suddenly, holding up a pair of boots that matched her signature style. They were sleek and sturdy, perfect for her adventurous spirit. "What do you think?"

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the boots. "They’re definitely your style, but do you really need new boots? Aren’t yours still good?"

March pouted dramatically, her lower lip jutting out. "Come on, please? These ones are way cooler! And they’ll go perfectly with my outfit!"

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me."

As you made your way to the checkout counter, March bounced on her heels, clearly excited about her new purchase. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for this simple day out—watching her discover new things, sharing a laugh here and there, and just enjoying the moment. There was something magical about seeing her so happy.

"You know," you said, handing over the payment for her new boots, "I never thought a shopping trip could be this fun."

March looked up at you, her expression softening. "Well, that’s because you’re with me! Who else would make shopping an adventure?"

She was right. Somehow, March had turned an ordinary errand into a full-blown journey. It wasn’t just about the camera gear or the boots—it was about sharing the day together, capturing moments, and finding joy in the simplest things.

"Thanks for today," March said as you both left the shop. "It was exactly what I needed."

You smiled at her, your heart light. "Anytime, March. Anytime."

And as you walked together, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. You may not know everything about your past, but with friends like March, the future was already looking brighter.

[Credits]

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dogmaz · 5 months ago

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I hate when people will just repost my tumblr posts to like tik tok or something trying to gain like aesthetic clout when they clearly don't like and haven't actually read the sorce material

#it doesn't rlly bother me vut like god sooo lazy this is why you don't have any followers #cuz you can find and make ur own content you just have to steal #dogma2323 #like mabey if you made ur own content about things you actually like mabey you'd actually get likes #i spend hours digging for shit because i love the source material #and people can tell thats why they like and follow

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yoshistory · 8 months ago

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part of me still feels like i might be sort of genderfluid and/or bisexual but just traumatized about it. no idea anymore

#like. remember that. remember following me back when i was bi and genderfluid lol. awhile ago now #its like whatever to me now. its really hard for me to pin anymore #like when i feel like genderfluid and bi again i feel like i can be a lot more open about shit #but i dont really even know. its hard #i feel like. and this is just like. me yknow. i feel like if i wasnt dating a man i'd be missing out on something that i want #like i dont know if i would be content just marrying a woman and being satisfied if i. didnt have a husband. yknow what i mean #and its like. if *I* wasnt a man i'd be sad. if in a relationship i wasnt someone's boyfriend or husband i'd be sad about it #so this is what wraps back around to me being a gayboy about it yknow #its complicated because no matter the gender label outcome. i would STILL want testosterone and surgery and masculine terms #and i KNOW this doesnt mean anything for some people. like some women do all that and are women #so i could just be not-a-man and still want all this anyways #but i also know it doesnt make it any less complicated for some of these women. who also had to think about themselves a lot in this way #its this weird notion of whatever ends up happening i... physically want the same shit anyways. THAT stays almost completely static #so that for me is a breather. its just like.... idk ... if i ever got in a relationship with a woman #i'd feel like i would be intrinsically. missing out on something i wanted #which i think is what a lot of burgeoning gay kids feel generally. right #like if you went down this stringent path laid out for you that you'd be missing out on. your life that you want. right.#i dont know what i want out of that really. sometimes i feel like im too out of it to pursue anything romantically anymore anyways #i do sometimes think it'd be cool to be a butch woman. kinda..?#i think what i like about that is the masculinity of myself is gender non-confirming if i were a woman #which if im a masc guy i'm just like. your average dude. like. right #but i wanna be a bear about it. i wanna fag it up about it. and my metric of being transgender im not ... average about how i present mysel #can someone teach me how to fag it up. the construction worker part of this is working right #sighhhh.... i have to go shower. maybe i;'ll have a shower epiphany or something. sighhhhh #sometimes in my head being a woman would be alright. but its like.. i dont even know how to decode it #i think some people would call what im feeling being genderfluid. some people might call it something else. it depends on like. you yknow #and what you want. and what makes you smile. me? not quite so sure anymore #and i think its like. this sounds like its laid quite bare right. but its hard to word even.#but sometimes im like. am i just like. talking ...? yknow what i mean.

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louderfade · 1 year ago

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#i carried a printout of this around with me in my bag as a teenager bc i was a big dork #to be clear it was the pumpkins of whom i was such a fan and not billy specifically #besides being a terribly obnoxious cringelord going through a christian phase he was also terrifically up his own ass about his bad poetry #and he was always being a dick about/to people who use drugs which is a very bad look imo so i was not exactly a billy fan #so i don't know why this stupid thing was so important to me #i think i was grieving the fact that all my favorite bands broke up before i was old enough to see them live but who knows #tbh i think teenage reasoning is mostly a mystery to everyone. no one can explain their thought process from age 15.#even current 15 year olds seem to be pretty clueless and generally at the mercy of their own brains #when i think of being 15 i recall a lot of chaos and confusion and a vague but constant rage toward everything in general #but picses iscariot does rock. those songs hold up and so does gish. just sayin.#this has been a boring post about some shit i liked too much as a teenager that i bet you wish you'd just ignored at this point #follow for more boring content about my personal life likely to make you reevaluate the ways in which you spend your time #pastlife #smashing pumpkins

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bbeelzemon · 2 years ago

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also while im here let me say this and just leave it up right at the top of my blog for now

i have been getting a surprising amount of new followers today so if you're following me for my recent tarot art:

- thank you but keep in mind that is the only tarot thing i have ever done and there are no guarantees i will ever do anything along those lines again (besides commissions)

- FUCK TERFS

#getting followed by several people whose posts are predominantly centered around tarot and deities and such #which is like fine but. just so you guys know. thats not what my blog is. lol #stay if you'd like!! just dont Expect more tarot content from me #i post stupid shit and oc art and lately i reblog a lot of vash the stampede #just so you're all aware.#my tarot drawing was stealth oc art too like even that wasnt tarot just for the sake of tarot . yknow #anyway hi ive been making a website for latimers and my nsf/w content all day. hello

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lostfracturess · 22 days ago

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HOW TO FAKE DATE A DOCTOR — SATORU GOJO

pairing — doctor!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — for six months, you've watched dr. satoru gojo order the sweetest coffee on your menu every morning at exactly 7:15 AM. for six months, you've convinced yourself his intense stares must mean he's spotted something medically concerning about you—maybe a suspicious mole or concerning symptom. but when a desperate white lie about a fake boyfriend results in him volunteering to play the part at your family's christmas dinner, what begins as a simple pretend relationship might just turn into something real.

word count — 9 k

genre/tags — coffee shop AU, holiday romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, fluff, idiots in love, reader is a med student and barista, gojo is a cardiologist, age difference (reader is 25/gojo early 30s)

warnings — 16+ ONLY. contains suggestive sexual content, non-graphic medical talk

author's note — hey lovelies, welcome to my first attempt at a holiday romance. this was meant to be a short drabble but somehow turned into this 9 k words of pure fluff and pining. it's my little christmas gift to you all hehe. whether you're celebrating with family, working holiday shifts, or just enjoying a quiet day, hope this makes you smile. thank you for reading, and merry christmas !! <3 (credit/art)

masterlist + support my writing

You first noticed him six months ago.

It wasn't just because he was strikingly handsome, with hair the color of fresh snow and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, though that certainly didn't hurt. It wasn't even because of his white coat and the stethoscope casually draped around his neck, marking him as one of the doctors from the nearby hospital.

No, what caught your attention was the way he looked at you.

Every morning, like clockwork, the bell above the door would chime at precisely 7:15 AM, and Dr. Satoru Gojo would walk into your café. He'd order the sweetest drink on your menu (always with extra whipped cream), and while you prepared it, his eyes would follow your every movement.

It wasn't creepy or uncomfortable. And it definitely wasn't flirting — at least, you didn't think it was. Perhaps he saw something, a suspicious mole you'd never noticed, and now he was trying to figure out how to tell the coffee girl she’s dying without ruining her morning rush.

That had to be it.

You’d catch his gaze lingering when he thought you weren't looking. Sometimes, he'd tilt his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. It made you wonder what he was thinking. Was he judging your latte art? Probably. You were still working on that.

But when you turned around to give him his iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream and three shots of caramel (it never varied, not once in six months), he'd break his smile to you, his gaze softening for a second, and then his fingers would brush against yours as you handed him the paper cup.

He always thanked you with “Much appreciated”. It made your heart skip a beat, if you'd be honest. Not that you read all too much into it of course. And so for six months, this had been your routine.

5:30 AM: Arrive at the café.

6:00 AM: Open up, prep for the day.

7:13 AM: Start making his drink because you knew he'd walk in exactly two minutes later.

7:15 AM: Heart fluttering slightly as your hand brushed his as you gave him his order.

10:00 AM: Shift end.

10:30 AM: Rush to classes.

Some mornings, he’d arrive in wrinkled scrubs, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him. Other days, it was a tailored dress shirt, sometimes with a matching tie. But the routine never changed.

Same order, same time, the same easy smile that would soften slightly when you remembered his order without him having to say it. Not that it was hard to begin with.

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” Maki would say, nudging you with her elbow as Dr. Gojo left. You’d roll your eyes, but a faint blush crept up your neck anyway.

Between customers, you'd try to squeeze in some studying. The early morning shift wasn't exactly ideal, but it paid better, and you needed every cent you could get for your pre-med textbooks. Those things cost more than your rent, it felt like.

Your anatomy textbook usually lay open behind the counter, hidden from customers' view but accessible during slower moments. Sometimes, when the morning rush died down, you'd catch Dr. Gojo's eyes flickering to the pages as you made his latte. His expression would shift slightly, but he never commented on it.

You wondered sometimes if he was judging your highlighting technique (chaotic at best) or your margin notes (mostly question marks). He must have gone through all this years ago, probably with much more grace than your current fumbling through medical terminology.

The café job barely covered your expenses — between tuition, rent, and those damn textbooks — but at least it was flexible with your class schedule. Your manager understood when you needed to switch shifts for exams, and the free coffee helped during all-nighters.

Your coworkers thought you were crazy for taking such early shifts. "No one should be awake at 5:30 AM," they'd say. But they didn't understand the quiet peace of morning prep, the satisfaction of perfect latte art, or the way certain blue eyes would crinkle at the corners when you got his order just right.

It was a small thing, a fleeting smile, a brush of fingertips, but it was enough to make the early mornings, the aching feet, the constant struggle, almost worth it.

Not that you stuck to this schedule just for him. Obviously not. The extra dollar per hour for opening shift was the real motivator. The fact that it coincided with Dr. Gojo's apparent coffee schedule was just... coincidence.

Sometimes, during chaotic study sessions between customers, you'd catch him watching you mouth medical terms to yourself as you steamed milk. His eyes would linger on your textbook, then flick back to your face with that same intense look that made you wonder if he was counting your remaining days or something—or still trying to figure out if that one mole on your cheek was turning malignant.

The morning you had your anatomy midterm, your textbook sat next to the register, full of sticky notes and frantic annotations. You saw him notice it, saw something shift in his expression as he took in the obvious signs of exam stress. That day, he left an extra large tip with a small note that just said "Good luck."

It was probably just pity. He'd been through med school. He knew the hell you were going through. That had to be it. Absolutely. No other explanation.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway, as you added the note into your wallet, shoving it down next to a crumpled grocery list and a faded movie ticket stub, as if burying it under a pile of mundane objects could somehow bury the flutter in your chest.

For six months, this had been your life. Balancing early mornings, late classes, endless studying, and the mystery of a doctor who looked at you like you were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

So when he finally broke pattern that random rainy monday morning, it wasn't with some dramatic revelation about your health you’d imagined. Instead, he tilted his head slightly while waiting for his usual and said, "You changed your hair."

You nearly dropped the caramel syrup. After six months of intense stares and loaded silences, after convincing yourself he was cataloging your symptoms or contemplating your mortality, he was commenting on your hair?

"Oh." Your hand instinctively went to the ends you'd trimmed over the weekend. "Yeah, just a few inches."

"It suits you." He said it so casually, like he hadn't just shattered half a year of mysterious doctor mystique with three words. Then, with that same matter-of-fact tone, "The pathophysiology textbook you were reading last week—Robbins, right? It’s really good. Especially the part about metaplasia. Interesting stuff."

And just like that, the spell was broken. No terminal diagnosis. No earth-shattering revelations. Just a doctor who apparently noticed haircuts and had opinions about medical textbooks.

The sudden normalcy of it all was almost jarring. For months, you’d been half-convinced he was silently cataloging your every freckle, every mole, every perceived imperfection, convinced he was about to deliver some devastating news. Now? He was talking about metaplasia. It was almot—anticlimactic.

And, if you were being honest, a little embarrassing. All those covert checks in the reflection of the espresso machine, all those frantic Google searches for “atypical nevi”—for this?

You almost wanted to laugh.

After that day, your morning routine shifted slightly. He still came in at exactly 7:15, still ordered the same diabetis-inducing latte, still watched you work with those intense blue eyes the color of glacial ice. But now he'd occasionally comment on your study materials, or mention an interesting case that related to whatever chapter you were currently highlighting.

"Cardiac arrhythmias today?" he'd ask, spotting your textbook. "Had a case of atrial fibrillation yesterday. The patient presented with…" He’d then launch into a quick explanation, sketching a diagram on a napkin that somehow made more sense than three hours of lecture on the same topic.

Your coworkers were almost disappointed by this development. "That's it?" Maki had said when you told her. "Six months of smoldering looks and he just... helps you study?"

But somehow, it felt right. The mysterious doctor with pretty eyes turned out to be just a man who noticed details and perhaps had a soft spot for struggling med students.

He still made your heart do that stupid flutter thing when his fingers brushed yours during the handoff, but now you had a perfectly logical explanation for that of course—the vagus nerve or some other equally fascinating cardiovascular phenomenon he'd just explained.

That had to be it.

Some mornings, when the café was quiet and you were stumped by a concept, he'd even linger a few minutes after getting his order. He’d lean against the counter, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, gesturing with his cup while breaking down complex medical theories into digestible pieces, somehow making autoimmune disorders sound as simple as iced latte recipes.

"You'll make a good doctor," he said one morning, completely out of nowhere and your cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Your relationship—if you could even call it that—settled into something comfortably in-between. More than customer and barista, less than friends, but with a rhythm all its own. He'd quiz you while you made his usual, turning morning coffee runs into study sessions.

"Name three complications of chronic hypertension," he'd say while you pumped caramel into his cup.

"Increased risk of heart attack, stroke, and kidney disease," you'd reply, adding the extra shot of espresso he never actually ordered but always appreciated.

"Good. Now tell me about secondary causes."

One random Tuesday morning, however, the bell didn't chime at 7:15. You glanced at the clock, then back at the door.

7:16.

7:17.

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach. It was ridiculous, really. Why did you even care? He was just a customer. A regular customer, yes, but still just a customer. It wasn't like you were waiting for him or anything. You were just—used to the routine. That was all.

But despite your attempts at rationalization, a small, nagging worry began to gnaw at you. Had something happened? Was he okay? You found yourself staring at the door, your hand hovering over the espresso machine, your usual movements faltering slightly. You even messed up a latte, the foam swirling into a sad, lopsided blob instead of the usual pretty rosetta.

At 7:20, just as you were about to convince yourself he’d just overslept and that you were being completely ridiculous, the bell finally rang. He rushed in, slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry I'm late," he said, his voice a little rushed. "Crazy morning at the hospital."

He looked like he’d run all the way, which was odd. Why would he run? It’s not like his coffee was that important. Right? And yet, your stupid heart did a little flip at the sight of him, a traitorous swell of warmth blooming in your chest. He made it. He was here.

He stayed extra long that morning. After the rush died down, he listened to you recite your flashcards, correcting your pronunciation of medical terms with a patience that made you wonder if he moonlighted as a professor. It was a strange sort of intimacy, this shared moment of slow study amidst the busy morning rush and the soft hum of the refrigerators.

And you never wanted that morning to end.

Your coworkers had stopped teasing you about him—mostly—and started asking if he could explain their own health questions instead. Then came the random stormy Wednesday that changed everything.

The morning had started normally enough—he arriving at 7:15 sharp, you already having his sugar latte ready. But the sky had opened up while he was waiting, rain drumming against the café windows. It wasn’t a gentle shower. It was a deluge, the kind that turned streets into rivers in minutes.

"Did you bring an umbrella?" he asked, watching you glance at the downpour.

"No," you sighed, already dreading the soggy walk to campus. "I checked the forecast last night—it said sunny all day." You internally cursed the weather app.

"When does your shift end?"

"Huh? Oh, uhm 10 AM. I have microbiology at 10:30."

His lips twitched into a faint smile and he left without another word. You tried not to feel disappointed—what had you expected? It's not like he could control the weather.

But at 10 AM sharp, as you were pulling your jacket tighter and preparing to make a run for it, you spotted him through the rain-streaked windows. He was standing outside the café in his white coat, holding a large dark blue umbrella.

Your heart definitely did more than flutter this time.

"Ready?" he asked when you emerged, as if waiting in the pouring rain for some barista was perfectly normal doctor behavior.

"You didn't have to—"

"Can't have my favorite barista catching pneumonia," he said. "Besides, I'm heading that direction anyway." You knew for a fact the hospital was in the opposite direction.

The walk to campus was suddenly—intimate. It was strange being this close to him. You’d seen him every morning for months, but always across the counter, a safe distance separating you. Now, you were walking side-by-side, the scent of his cologne so close it made it hard to focus on anything but his proximity, to say the least.

"So, what are you studying in Microbiology?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"We're covering bacterial pathogenesis this week," you replied, and the conversation drifted naturally to a discussion of how different pathogens could affect various organ systems like it was normal small talk.

As other pedestrians passed, their own umbrellas bobbing and weaving, he’d subtly pull you closer. Each time he did, your breath would catch in your throat, and a fresh wave of warmth would wash over you. You were grateful for his height, because you were certain your cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red.

It was absurd, how flustered you were by such a simple act, but the feeling of his arm occasionally brushing against yours, the shared intimacy of the small space beneath the umbrella, was enough to send your heart racing.

Desperate to focus on something else, you blurted out, "What kind of doctor are you, anyway? I never actually asked."

"Cardiology," he replied simply.

“Cardiology,” you repeated, the word lingering on your tongue. A doctor of the heart. When you reached the medical sciences building, he paused, lowering the umbrella slightly. The rain had begun to ease, but the air still smelled wet and clean.

"Thanks," you said, meeting his gaze. "For the umbrella escort."

"Anytime." That soft smile again, the one that made your heart do a stupid little skip again.

As you watched him walk away, umbrella tilted against the rain, you realized something had shifted. Maybe you weren't quite friends, maybe you weren't quite anything definable, but whatever this was—it felt like the beginning of something. Something more than just sharing an umbrella on rainy days.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Winter arrived on a random thursday morning, transforming rain into snow and turning your early morning walks to work into arctic expeditions.

It was during one of these frigid mornings, while you were preparing Dr. Gojo's usual order and the steam from the espresso machines fogging up the frost-covered windows, that your phone rang. Your mother's contact photo flashed on the screen.

You answered with your phone pressed between ear and shoulder, still working the machines. "Hi, Mom."

"Sweetheart! I was just planning Christmas dinner. You're bringing someone this year, right? That nice boy from your anatomy class you mentioned?"

You winced, catching Dr. Gojo's raised eyebrow from where he stood at the counter. "Mom—"

"Because Aunt Marie's daughter just got engaged, and you know how she gets—"

"My boyfriend's actually busy with hospital rotations," you blurted out, immediately wanting to punch yourself. "He's, uh, very dedicated to his work."

"Boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me? What's his name? What does he—"

"Sorry, Mom, huge line forming, gotta go!" You hung up, letting your forehead thump against the coffee machine with a groan.

"That sounded stressful," Dr. Gojo commented, amusement clear in his voice.

You looked up to find him watching you with that slight smile that always made you shiver. "Just my mom being... my mom." You resumed making his latte. "She's convinced that at twenty-five, I'm practically a spinster."

"Ah." He tilted his head. "And this fictional boyfriend with hospital rotations?"

Your cheeks heated. "Seemed easier than explaining why I'm still single. Between work, classes, and studying, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date." You handed him his usual. "Plus, now she'll stop trying to set me up with every eligible male she meets through her book club."

"A creative solution," he said, taking a sip. "Though hospital rotations over Christmas? Sounds like a terrible boyfriend." A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, well, imaginary men are often disappointing." You started wiping down the counter, needing something to do with your hands. "At least this way I'll have a few weeks of peace before I have to tell her we broke up."

"Sounds like you've done this before," he observed, watching you attack an imaginary coffee stain with perhaps too much force.

"Is it that obvious?" You sighed, abandoning your fake cleaning. "Last year he was studying abroad. The year before that, he was sick. I'm running out of excuses, honestly. Pretty sure my mom's stopped believing me, but she plays along because it's less awkward than admitting we both know I'm lying."

He made a thoughtful sound, then pulled out his prescription pad (why did doctors always carry those around anyway?). You watched, confused, as he scribbled something down and slid it across the counter.

"Here," he said. "My number. Call me during Christmas dinner."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Well, your imaginary boyfriend should at least make an effort, don't you think?" His eyes held that familiar amusement. "I'll tell your mom all about my very important hospital rounds, maybe throw in some medical words. Make it convincing."

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Was he… offering to pretend to be your boyfriend? You couldn't quite process what was happening.

"You know," he said, after you'd probably been quiet for too long, "some of us actually do work hospital rotations over Christmas."

"I know, I just—" You stopped, realizing how her words might have sounded. "Oh god, I didn't mean to imply… I know you probably have to work during the holidays too, I wasn't trying to—"

"Someone has to make sure all those Christmas dinner caused heart attacks are properly treated," he interrupted, that familiar, almost-smirk back on his face, easing the tension in your shoulders. "Though I do get Christmas morning off this year."

You couldn't tell if he was trying to make you feel better about your lie, your accidental insult, or just sharing information. With Dr. Gojo, it was often hard to tell. After a moment of stunned silence, you managed, "Are you… sure?"

"Perfectly.”

"Thank you," you said, finally finding your voice as you picked up the slip of paper. "Really, thank you."

"Anytime," he said, that familiar, soft smile gracing his lips. "Consider it a Christmas gift. From your very dedicated, albeit fictional, boyfriend."

As you watched him leave, coffee in hand and snowflakes catching in his white hair. Even if he was probably going to tease you endlessly about your fictional, workaholic boyfriend for weeks to come, a small, stupid part of you was already looking forward to it.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The Christmas dinner was a random Friday night.

The table, laden with enough food to feed a small army, was surrounded by the usual suspects and the dinner turned out to be exactly as excruciating as you'd expected. You'd barely made it through the appetizers before the interrogation began.

"So, this boyfriend of yours," Aunt Marie started. "What did you say he does again?"

"He's a doctor," you said into your mashed potatoes.

"A doctor!" your mother brightened. "You never mentioned that part."

Your cousin Sarah leaned forward. "What kind of doctor? Where did he study? How did you meet?"

You were considering faking a sudden illness when your phone buzzed. Dr. Gojo's name lit up your screen with a video call request. You hadn't even suggested a video call—he was truly committing to this.

"Oh, that's him now!" Your mother said, clapping her hands together. "Put him on speaker!"

Before you could protest, you were surrounded by a sea of curious relatives as you answered the call. The screen filled with Dr. Gojo's face, and—oh god—he was actually in scrubs, in what looked like a real operating room.

"Hey, my love," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and the casual nickname hit you like a train, making you forget your own name. You felt your cheeks flush and it didn’t help that he somehow managed to look unfairly handsome even under the surgical lights. "Sorry I couldn't make it. We had an emergency valve replacement come in."

"Are you... actually in surgery right now?" you asked.

"Just finished!" He tilted the phone slightly to show a glimpse of a team of medical staff behind him, all of whom waved. One even gave a thumbs up. "Thought I'd catch you before dessert. Is that your family I see?"

Your entire extended family crammed themselves into frame, cooing and waving at your "doctor boyfriend" who was dedicated enough to call from work.

"Oh my god, he's gorgeous," your cousin said.

"Dr. Gojo," your mother pushed forward, "we're so disappointed you couldn't join us. Though of course, saving lives comes first!"

"Please, call me Satoru," he said, flashing that unfairly attractive smile of his. "And I'm more disappointed than anyone. I was really looking forward to trying your famous apple pie that your daughter keeps telling me about."

Your mother clutched her chest, delighted. You had never once mentioned her apple pie to him.

"Are those Christmas decorations I see in the OR?" your aunt squinted at the screen.

And indeed, there were actual Christmas lights strung up in the background. Either this hospital was very festive, or he'd gone to ridiculous lengths for this act.

"We try to keep the holiday spirit alive, even here," he said, then suddenly looked off-screen. "Oh, looks like we have another emergency coming in." Dramatic beeping noises increased in the background. "I'm so sorry, but duty calls. It was lovely meeting you all!"

"Such a dedicated young man," your mother sighed after you ended the call.

"So handsome too," Aunt Marie added. "Those eyes!"

You slumped in your chair, caught between mortification and amusement. He really didn't have to go that far—the Christmas lights in the OR? The perfectly timed “emergency”? The entire surgical team playing along? It was almost impressive.

Your phone buzzed with a text: 'How'd I do? The lights were my colleague's idea. They says Merry Christmas, by the way. Your family seems nice.'

Another buzz, a separate message: 'Also, I expect a slice of that famous apple pie at the café tomorrow. After that performance, I think I've earned it.'

You typed back: 'You are absolutely insufferable. That was completely over the top.'

His response came almost instantly: 'Is that any way to talk to your dedicated doctor boyfriend who just saved a life AND charmed your entire family? I'm hurt.'

Despite yourself, you smiled.

Your phone buzzed one more time: 'By the way, your cousin already found my hospital's public contact info and sent a friend request. Should I accept? I feel like a committed boyfriend would.'

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was absolutely loving this.

Way too much.

The next morning, you weren't surprised when he showed up at his usual 7:15, despite it being his day off. What did surprise you was that he was still wearing scrubs. They were rumpled, like he'd been wearing them for a while.

"Please tell me you didn't actually work all night just to make that video call more convincing," you said as he approached the counter.

"You know, I am a doctor in real life, right? This isn't just a cover for your mom." He smirked. "But anyway, just finished an actual emergency shift." He glanced at the paper bag you had waiting next to his usual sugary coffee. "Is that… what I think it is?"

"Your well-earned reward for yesterday's Oscar-worthy performance." You handed him both coffee and pie. "Though I still can't believe you got your entire surgical team to play along."

"Bold of you to assume I had to ask." He took a bite of the pie and his eyes widened slightly. "Okay, your mom's reputation is deserved. This is actually amazing."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts, because—" You hesitated, took a deep breath, and decided to just rip the bandage off. "She invited you to dinner. Tomorrow."

He paused mid-bite. "Oh?"

"I told her you're probably busy—"

"What time?"

You stared at him. "What?"

"What time is dinner?" He took another bite of pie, looking perfectly casual about the whole thing. "I actually have Sunday evening off, and this pie has convinced me your mom's cooking is worth experiencing in person."

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I've already met them virtually. Might as well complete the experience. Unless you're worried I'll embarrass you?"

"I'm worried you'll be too convincing again," you said. "My mom's already planning our wedding, by the way. She told me this morning that your 'dedication to work' proves you'd be a good husband."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint a future mother-in-law."

"This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny." He leaned against the counter, grinning. "Come on, one dinner. I promise to be slightly less charming this time."

"Somehow I doubt that's possible," you said before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened. "Was that a compliment?"

"That was a complaint about your inability to do anything halfway." You busied yourself with wiping down the already clean counter. "But fine. Sunday at seven. Try not to bring Christmas lights this time."

"No promises." He pushed off from the counter, taking his coffee and pie. "Oh, and by the way?"

"Hmm?"

"I accepted your cousin's friend request. She's already invited me to your family's New Year's party."

He was halfway to the door when he paused, turning back with an expression that was softer than his usual teasing smile. "You look pretty today, by the way. The new sweater suits you."

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn't even realized he'd noticed you'd changed from your usual work shirt into a cozy sweater for your afternoon classes.

He was out the door before you could stammer out a response, leaving you to wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into. And why one simple, genuine compliment made your heart race more than all his dramatic boyfriend performances combined.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Sunday evening found you pacing a worn path in the carpet by your parents' front door, checking your phone every two minutes. 7:15 came and went—apparently his almost unnervingly precise timing only applied to coffee runs.

You tried to convince yourself it was fine, that doctors had unpredictable schedules, but a nervous flutter had taken up residence in your stomach.

At 7:20, your mom’s worried, "Maybe he got called into surgery?" was interrupted by the doorbell. You took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress, and opened the door.

Standing there was Dr. Gojo—Satoru, you supposed you should call him now—looking slightly disheveled in a way that somehow only emphasized his unfairly attractive features. His white dress shirt, though slightly untucked at the waist, bore the clear signs of a hurried ironing, and he was carrying what looked like an expensive bottle of wine—definitely not the kind you’d find at the corner store.

"I'm so sorry," he said, running a hand through his already slightly tousled white hair. "Emergency consultation ran late, and then traffic was—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, a wave of relief washing over you. He’d actually come. "Really. You didn't have to—"

But the rest of your sentence disappeared into a surprised squeak as he stepped forward, closing the small gap between you. He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, his free hand settling naturally on your waist, just above your hip, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

"Hi," he whispered against your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Missed you today at the café."

You stood frozen, brain short-circuiting from the casual intimacy of it all. This wasn't part of the plan. You hadn't discussed... this. The way his hand felt warm through your dress, how his cologne made you slightly dizzy, how natural it felt to have him this close. It was as if your body already knew this was right, even if your mind was still scrambling to catch up.

"I... you..." Words. You needed words. "You're late."

He pulled back just enough to give you that familiar amused look. "And you're blushing."

Before you could even process that observation—or the fact that your heart was currently attempting to beat its way out of your chest—your mother appeared behind you. "Satoru! We're so glad you could make it!"

He smoothly stepped past you to greet your parents, all charm and apologies for his lateness, seamlessly weaving a plausible story about a last-minute emergency consult and unexpected traffic. He shook your father’s hand with just the right amount of respectful firmness and charmed your mother with a compliment about her festive decorations. All while he left you standing in the doorway, slightly dazed, trying to remember how to perform basic human functions like breathing and blinking.

The slight smirk he threw over his shoulder as he joined the others in the living room told you he knew exactly what he'd done.

Insufferable man.

The dinner was simultaneously the longest and shortest evening of your life. Satoru slipped into the role of doting boyfriend with an unsettling ease, weaving medical anecdotes (carefully tailored for a non-medical audience) and charming compliments into the conversation like he'd been rehearsing for weeks. He even managed to compliment Aunt Marie’s notoriously sweet cheesecake without visibly wincing.

He sat close enough that your legs brushed under the table, his hand finding its way to your knee during your mother's third attempt to bring up wedding venues (she was already browsing bridal magazines online, you’d noticed). The casual touch, which should have made you incredibly nervous, instead felt strangely good, like a shared secret between the two of you in the midst of the family chaos.

"And how did you two actually meet?" your aunt asked over dessert.

"She makes the best coffee in the city," Satoru answered smoothly, his thumb drawing absent circles on your thigh beneath the tablecloth. "Though it took me months to work up the courage to say more than my order."

You nearly choked on your wine. He was mixing truth and fiction so seamlessly you almost believed it yourself.

Every story he told had just enough reality to make you question your own memory. He mentioned how you study between customers, but added details about imaginary conversations. He even talked about your first "date" with such specificity that you found yourself half-believing it had happened.

His hand never left your leg for long, occasionally squeezing gently when your relatives’ questions became too invasive. Somehow, he’d effortlessly positioned himself as both the charming guest and the attentive boyfriend, deflecting awkward questions with a disarming smile. And you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life as you were for him breaking the pattern on that random, rainy Monday morning.

"He even helped me with pathophysiology," you found yourself saying, leaning into him slightly, enjoying it. Two could play at this game.

"She didn't need much help," he replied, his voice laced with a warmth that sounded genuinely proud. It made your heart flutter. "Just someone to hold her flashcards while she made my ridiculously sweet coffee."

Your father, who hadn't said much all evening, finally smiled. "She works too hard sometimes."

"She does," Satoru agreed, his hand sliding just a fraction higher on your thigh under the table. "Though that's one of the things I admire most about her." A wave of heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, focusing on a particularly uninteresting spot on the tablecloth. This is getting out of hand.

As the conversation shifted to some other topic—something about your uncle's questionable golf swing—you leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "You're awfully charming."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower so that only you could hear. "Funny, you don't seem to hate it." You felt your cheeks burn even hotter now.

By the time dinner ended, your mother was completely smitten, your aunts were bickering over who would host the next family gathering (with Satoru as the guest of honor, of course), and your cousin had somehow convinced him to follow her Instagram—and had already tagged him in three separate stories.

It was all too smooth, too perfect, too real.

The way he helped you clear the table, his hand brushing the small of your back in a casual, yet intimate touch as he passed. How he effortlessly recalled every detail you’d ever mentioned about your family, from your grandmother’s obsession with crossword puzzles to your father’s love of bad puns. The soft, lingering looks he gave you when he thought no one was watching, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

"You're very good at this," you said as you stood side by side at the sink, washing dishes after dinner.

"At what?"

"Playing pretend."

His hands paused for just a moment. "Who says I'm pretending?"

The wine glass you were drying slipped from your suddenly nerveless fingers. You managed to catch it before it shattered on the tile floor, but not before making enough noise to draw his attention.

"Hey." His hand was immediately at your waist, steadying you. "You okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine, just—" You set the glass down carefully, very aware of how close he was standing. When you turned to face him, you found yourself effectively trapped between his broad frame and the hard edge of the kitchen counter. "Slippery hands. From the... soap."

"Hmm." His eyes searched your face, and for a fleeting moment, you thought—you could have sworn—his gaze flickered down to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. "You know, for someone who spends all day handling hot liquids, you've seemed very clumsy tonight."

"Maybe I'm just… distracted.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he leaned infinitesimally closer, his eyes fixed on yours. One hand came up to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingertips grazing your skin, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. "By what?"

"You're doing it again," you whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Being too convincing."

A slow, almost hesitant smile spread across his face. It was a smile that reached his eyes, a smile that felt utterly real, utterly intimate, making your heart stutter in your chest. "Perhaps," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin, "maybe I'm not trying to convince anyone anymore."

You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, the slight tremor in his hand where it rested on your waist, the way the kitchen suddenly felt too warm, too small, too—

"Who wants coffee?" your mother's voice carried from the dining room, making you both jump apart. Satoru cleared his throat, taking a hasty step back, his hand dropping from your waist.

The rest of dinner passed in a surreal haze, neither of you quite able to forget the charged moment in the kitchen. What was that? You kept replaying the scene in your mind. His hand on your waist, his breath on your lips, the sudden shift in his eyes. It had felt… different. More real than any of the playacting.

It wasn't until your aunt, after a drawn out round of goodbyes and air kisses, finally got up to leave that anyone noticed the shift in the weather. "Oh my goodness," your mother gasped, pulling back the curtains. "When did it start snowing?"

Outside, the world had transformed into a winter wonderland that would've been charming under different circumstances. At least a foot of snow covered everything, still falling heavily in thick, white sheets.

"The weather alert says it's going to continue all night," your father reported, checking his phone. "They're advising against any travel. Roads are already getting bad."

Your mother immediately switched into hostess mode. "You absolutely can't drive in this, Satoru. These roads won't be plowed until morning, at the earliest."

"I'm sure I can—" he started.

"Absolutely not," she interrupted. "You'll stay here tonight. Both of you."

You nearly choked on air. "Mom—"

"Don't be silly, dear," she said, already bustling towards the hallway. "You can take your old room, of course. It's all made up. Satoru," she called over her shoulder, "I'll go find some spare cloths for you." Then, turning back to you, she added, "And honey, you still have some things in your old room, so it'll be just like old times!"

Old times? What old times? Your childhood bedroom with those old embarrassing school photos and faded posters of your first boyband crush that you’d somehow never gotten around to taking down? This was not part of the plan. This was definitely not part of the plan.

He wasn't supposed to see that side of you.

As you counted down the seconds until you completely died from embarrassment your parents bustled off to prepare the rooms, leaving you and Satoru alone again. He leaned against the window, watching the snow fall, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Convenient weather we're having," you said suspiciously.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I somehow arranged a snowstorm?"

"At this point, I wouldn't put it past you."

His laugh was soft and warm. "As flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, even I can't control the weather." He glanced at you. "Though I have to admit, this is working out better than my original plan of pretending my car wouldn't start."

"You're impossible," you groaned.

"So I've been told." He pushed off from the window, moving closer. He stopped just inches away, until you could feel the heat from his body. His gaze dropped—or you thought it did, your pulse quickening at the mere possibility—to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet your eyes. You blinked, trying to clear your head. No, it couldn't be. "Though I notice you're not exactly complaining about the situation."

Before you could formulate a witty retort (or even a coherent thought, for that matter), your mother’s voice rang out from upstairs, effectively putting an end to whatever was about to happen. "I found some spare clothes, Satoru! And honey," she called down, "your old band t-shirts are still in your dresser!"

You covered your face with your hands. "Please forget everything she's about to show you."

"Now how could I possibly pass up the chance to see teenage you's fashion choices?"

You peaked through your fingers to find him smirking, looking far too delighted by this turn of events. This was going to be a very long night.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

"I really can sleep on the floor," Satoru offered for the third time, shifting his weight awkwardly in the doorway of your childhood bedroom. He looked around, taking in your teenage decorating choices, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"Don't be ridiculous." You tried to sound casual as you smoothed down the NASA bedsheets you'd had since high school on your small bed, that suddenly looked barely big enough for one, let alone two adults. "We're both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird."

He was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced up, you found him studying your teenage self's wall decorations with poorly hidden amusement. It was a chaotic mixture of faded movie posters (mostly featuring heartthrobs from your early teens), band posters (an ambarrasing One Direction poster taking center stage), and a poorly crafted periodic table, complete with hand-drawn elements and color-coded categories.

"Nice periodic table," he finally said.

"Shut up," you muttered, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it easily, because of course he did. "Some of us were nerds before med school."

You turned to your old closet, pulling out one of those oversized band t-shirts you'd lived in during high school. You gripped the hem of your sweater, suddenly very aware of his presence in the small room.

You could feel his eyes on you, a weight on your back, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You paused, your fingers frozen on the soft knit. "Um… could you…?" you trailed off, not wanting to meet his gaze.

He didn't say anything, didn't move. You could practically feel his gaze burning into your back. Finally, you turned, holding your band t-shirt protectively in front of you. "Seriously. Turn around."

He blinked. "You know, I am a doctor. I've seen it all."

"Still," you insisted, your cheeks flushing. "Turn. Around."

He sighed, but finally turned his back, though the lingering amusement in his eyes told you he was still enjoying the situation immensely.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered, pulling the t-shirt over your head. You smoothed it down, then took a deep breath.

"I would never," he said.

"You can turn around now."

He turned, his face carefully composed, though a telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. His eyes traveled from the hem of the shirt to your face, making your heart stutter. "You look… cute."

"You're a terrible liar.”

You both settled into bed with careful movements, lying rigid as boards, backs facing each other in a vain attempt at maintaining some sort of personal space. The mattress, however, had other plans. It dipped under his weight, creating a subtle slope that kept trying to draw you toward the center—toward him.

Your childhood bed, which had seemed perfectly adequate when you were sixteen, now felt absurdly small. You pressed against the edge, but it was no use, there couldn't have been more than a few inches between your back and his. You could feel the heat of his body, warming the small space between you, his every breath, the subtle shift of the sheets when he moved.

The silence stretched, filled only with the sound of falling snow outside your window and your own heartbeat. It felt so loud, you were certain he could hear it.

"Thank you," you finally whispered into the darkness. "For tonight. For all of it. You didn't have to do any of this."

The bed shifted as he turned over. After a moment's hesitation, you did too, finding yourself face to face with him in the dim light of the streetlamp filtering through your old curtains. His hair was disheveled from the pillow, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it.

"It was fun," he said simply, his breath warm against your cheek.

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Fun? My mom interrogated you about your entire medical history, my dad made you look at his coin collection for an hour, and my cousin tried to show you every embarrassing photo of me from middle school."

"The braces years were particularly charming."

You kicked his shin lightly under the covers. "Shut up."

He grinned, the warmth in his eyes visible even in the dim light. "I mean it, though. Your family is… lively."

"That's a polite way of saying chaotic."

"They care about you. It's nice."

You studied his face, searching for the truth in his words. "Why did you really come tonight? You could have easily found an excuse to avoid this disaster of a family dinner."

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to?"

"No," you said. "Nobody wants to spend their evening being questioned by my parents and subjected to my aunt's weird baking."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "Maybe I wanted to understand you better. See where you came from. Meet the people who made you... you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Why would you care about any of that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

You stared at him, suddenly very aware of how close you were, how little space there was between you in this too-small bed. "No," you whispered. "It's not obvious at all."

"Then I must be doing a terrible job of showing you."

Your heart was racing now, your voice barely audible. "Showing me what?"

Before you could respond, he shifted, until he was hovering above you. Your breath caught at the change, at how his white hair fell forward framing his face, at how his eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies in them.

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was nothing like the casual touch of lips from before. It was soft, sweet, and achingly tender at first. He moved against you slowly, his lips parting slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. You met his silent invitation, your own lips parting in response. One hand cupped your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, while the other braced against the mattress, supporting his weight.

Then, with a soft sigh, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that made your heart ache with a longing you hadn’t known you carried. He pulled you closer, just a fraction, the kiss becoming more urgent, more demanding, yet still laced with a surprising tenderness.

You could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your own chest but then, just as suddenly as it began, he pulled back, breaking the kiss. He didn't move far, though, remaining close enough that you could still feel his breath on your face, see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "Still think I'm just playing pretend?"

This time, you didn't hesitate. You were the one who moved forward, your hand sliding into his hair, the soft strands tangling around your fingers, pulling him back down to you. His surprised intake of breath was quickly lost as your lips met again.

This kiss was different—deeper, more urgent, six months of watching and waiting poured into a single moment. He made a low sound in his throat as your fingers tightened in his hair, urging him closer.

His own hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing gently into the sensitive skin there. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your band t-shirt.

"I've wanted to do that since the first time you rolled your eyes at my coffee order," he said against your lips, his voice rough in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

"That long?" You tried to sound teasing, but it came out breathless instead.

He smiled against your lips. "Longer, probably." He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your jawline. "Though watching you try to diagnose yourself with every terrible disease I mentioned was pretty entertaining, too."

You groaned, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then, quieter, more intimate, "But I've got plenty of time to make it up to you."

His lips trailed down your neck, each gentle press sending shivers through your body. When he reached the collar of your t-shirt, he paused, his fingers toying with the hem. "Can I?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and he slowly, teasingly, pushed the fabric up, revealing your stomach inch by inch. The first brush of his lips against your bare skin made you gasp, your fingers tightening reflexively in his silky hair.

He took his time, pressing kisses to your belly, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. His tongue darted out, tasting your skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Your back arched, subtly at first, but with increasing urgency as his lips and hands explored your skin.

His fingers, still toying with the hem of your shirt, finally slipped beneath the fabric. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips. "More," you whispered, the word barely audible, but he heard it, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Your heart raced, your skin flushed, every nerve ending racing with the promise of what was to come.

He dragged the fabric down your legs, the cool air hitting your heated skin making you shiver. He settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider, and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his kisses trailing down your inner thigh. And then his mouth was on you, and the world fell away.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The next morning felt like stepping into a dream—a world where Dr. Satoru Gojo, the man you’d spent six months convinced was silently diagnosing you with rare diseases, was actually just a man utterly smitten with you.

It was as if a blurry lens had finally snapped into focus, revealing a picture so obvious you almost laughed. All those intense stares, the carefully timed coffee shop visits, the way he’d linger at your counter, even helping you study—it had never been about mysterious illnesses or professional concern.

He’d simply been trying to be near you, and you’d been too busy inventing medical mysteries to notice.

And the most embarrassing part? How obvious it had been to everyone else. Your coworkers’ knowing looks finally made sense, as did your mother’s immediate acceptance of him as your “boyfriend.” Even his colleagues had been in on it, helping stage that ridiculous Christmas video call just to make you smile.

When you later confessed your obliviousness to your coworkers, their reactions ranged from “Finally!” to a bewildered “Wait, you mean he wasn’t actually your boyfriend this whole time?”

Over breakfast, as he effortlessly charmed your mother into accepting a third helping of pancakes he casually dropped the bomb to your mom, “I actually rearranged my entire consultation schedule to match her shifts. I don't even like coffee."

Your mind went blank for a moment. He… what? Then, the implications crashed down on you. He’d rearranged his entire work schedule just to see you. And he hated coffee. He’d only ever ordered those sugary lattes because… because of you.

A blush crept up your neck, and you couldn't believe how adorably dense you’d been.

He met your gaze then, his blue eyes softening in that way that always made your heart flutter. Only now you understood what that look truly meant. He hadn’t been studying you. He’d been cherishing you with his gaze. He’d wanted to see you, to be near you, to simply be with you. And the realization made you ridiculously, undeniably happy.

Satoru walked over to you from where he stood next to your mom and leaned down, his breath warm against your temple, and pressed a soft kiss there. You closed your eyes, savoring the simple touch. God, you wanted more. You wanted him closer, his arms around you, his lips on yours again, just like last night.

You'll probably never get enough of that.

He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. His gaze held yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Then he whispered three words that made your world stand still, "I love you."

Three little words.

But those three words little changed everything.

It felt as though time itself had stopped. He loves me, the thought echoed in your mind, a fragile, beautiful sound you couldn't quite believe was real. You’d imagined this moment countless times in secret, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart, but you'd never truly believed it could happen.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hand, the sweet scent of pancakes, and the soft morning light filtering through the kitchen window, you knew you’d never been happier in your entire life.

And most importantly, you didn't have to pretend anymore. He wasn't just someone you were pretending to date for your family's sake. He was actually your boyfriend. Really, truly your boyfriend. And what had once felt like a performance suddenly felt very much like coming home.

But the best part? At exactly 7:15 the next morning, he still walked in, ordered his usual diabetes in a cup, and watched you work with those intense blue eyes. Only now, when you handed him his drink, he'd pull you close for a kiss that tasted of caramel and cinnamon.

"You know," he said one morning, watching you make his order, "for someone smart enough to get into med school, you were remarkably dense about this whole thing."

"Says the man who spent six months staring instead of just asking me out."

"I was building suspense."

"You were being creepy."

"Maybe," he said, then smilled. "But it worked, didn't it?"

And really, you couldn't argue with that. Though you did make his next latte extra sweet, just to watch him pretend to enjoy it.

After all, some things were worth suffering through overly sugary coffee for.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — if you're familiar with a certain story on my blog, then no you didn't see this story, and this is definitely not a healthier version of another couple, and i absolutely do not have a thing for medical AUs, okay thank you.

anway, this was supposed to get spicier, but time got away from me because i really wanted to share it with you all for christmas so this is only suggestive, but i hope you enjoyed it either way. & thank you so much for reading this far !! your support means everything to me.

wishing you all a very merry christmas !! hope your holidays are filled with sweet coffee, warm embraces, and maybe even a handsome doctor of your own <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @snowsilver2000 @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

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literal-bot-account · 11 months ago

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y'know, back when I used Reddit, if you found some hateful content of any sort, it wasn't that hard to report it. You clicked the "Report" button, selected "Hateful Content" out of the wide variety of options available, and then clicked the "Submit" button. I did this pretty often, because some of the communities I was in attracted rather unsavory characters as a side effect.

Do you know what happened next? Next, I received an automated message that said basically "Hey, thanks for reporting This Content (link to reported content). We've received your report and will review it shortly." Usually, a day or two later, you'd receive another message in your inbox saying "Thanks again for reporting. We found this content in violation of our TOS and have removed it." Sure enough, if you followed the link back to whatever you reported, it would be gone.

It was that easy. No explaining yourself, no explaining yourself again but differently, no redirect to a new tab, you didn't even need to know the specifics of what did or didn't violate TOS. No matter what happened, they would write back and tell you what was going on. If the reported content didn't violate TOS, they would tell you.

When I hopped over here full-time, I continued that reporting habit, thinking it'd be largely the same experience. I have had complete and utter radio silence from @staff on every single report I've ever filed. Have I been making a difference? Is my voice being considered? Who knows! But it certainly hasn't felt like it so far.

At least now I know those reports were going straight into the garbage, rather than just having to wonder.

#avewy #predstrogen #tumblr drama #staff are incompetently malicious or maliciously incompetent #cry havoc

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foone · 11 months ago

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Your posts are in an AI model

and then Tumblr decided to sell them to AI models.

Now, don't get me wrong, tumblr selling out the users to AI companies is bad, yes, they shouldn't do that. It sucks.

but don't lets get this confused: your posts were already in there. Tumblr selling them is about tumblr making some money and about the AI models having more exhaustive post collections. It's not about your posts being in an AI model, vs not being in one. That battle has already been lost.

Can you find your post on google? Then it's almost certainly in an AI model already. Think about it: These AI sites showed up before all the sites were making deals to sell their users' content, right? How do you think they built them in the first place?

They scraped the posts. Just like google and bing and such do when they build their search indexes.

It's a fundamental part of how the open web works: you want your posts on tumblr to be visible to users, right? You want them to be readable?* Like, look how much stuff broke when twitter changed their whole read-while-not-logged-in policy, ruining a bunch of thread links/NSFW links. And if it's visible, it's scrapable. That's what the AI models were built on.

I've done website scraping before (not for AI models, of course. I was doing search engines and website archival), this is just how it works. You hire a few relatively smart CS graduates and tell them "build me a scraper that'll give us a bunch of tumblr posts" and they go off for a month or two and come back with a database of a few billion posts, and you stuff that into your AI model. That's how they got all the deviantart and flickr and twitter and pinterest and so on posts. They didn't pay for them: they just took them.

They only ever pay for this shit because either:

they fucked up in such a way that the site might be able to sue them for taking rather than paying

They can buy them cheaper than they can finish taking them. Maybe they'd need to pay the CS grads for an extra month? well, that might be more expensive than just throwing the site a couple hundred thousand bucks.

ANYWAY: my point is, don't treat this "oh no tumblr is selling our posts to AI" like it's a big thing that might happen and it would be bad to happen. Yes, it's bad, tumblr shouldn't do this, this'll let AI models get continual updates of content for far easier than just scraping them would be, tumblr betrayed user trust, and so on...

but realistically, this is not a black and white matter of "if only tumblr didn't do this, then we'd be safe from AI models!"

Nope. We already lost that battle. I'm sorry, and it does suck, but that's just how it is. The avalanche has already started, it's too late for the pebbles to vote. * I'm assuming here that you don't run a private blog that's set to only followers or something. You'd be safer then, of course, but you're not really my target audience for this rant

#this is not in any way pro-ai #but I don't know how to tag this

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pixiel · 1 year ago

Text

Old Tumblr Dashboard (Userstyle)!!

I created a Userstyle for the Chrome/Firefox Stylus Extension that reverts the new dashboard to the old look!

You need to have Stylus installed. So if you don't have it:

Install the Stylus Firefox Addon or the Manifest V2 Chrome Extension (You can install Chrome Extensions on Edge as well)

Once it's installed into Firefox/Chrome/Edge you can proceed with adding this style or any other.

To add the style (Stylus), follow the instructions:

Go to this link: https://userstyles.world/style/11286/old-tumblr-dashboard-july-2023

Click on "install".

Style will open a tag with it and in the left side you'll have a button that says "install style", click there. (Step-by-step copied from the lovely dorothyoz39 who wrote this in a reply!) If you don't want the sticky header you can remove the labelled script at the top of the css below /* Sticky Header*/

For Manifest V3 only Chrome Or Stylus incompatible browsers:

For Chrome Manifest V3 install the Tampermonkey Extension

Then add the Tampermonkey Backup Script instead of the Stylus version

https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/492279-old-tumblr-dasboard-backup I highly recommend you switch to Firefox for continued use of good extensions! Stylus does not have a V3 update yet; however, the tamermonkey script works just as good.

Be sure to check for updates regularly and if you'd like, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi https://ko-fi.com/pixiel !

I'm currently taking donations so I can afford a much-needed wheelchair, so please check out my GoFundMe for more details! Any Ko-Fi donations will be added manually to the GoFundMe

..::::HOW TO UPDATE::::..

click the Manage button on Stylus and click the check for update button next to the userstyle, then click again to install!

Make sure to check the Userstyle and see if the version number matches the one below if you don't see any changes!

NEW UPDATE: 18/11/24 (D/M/Y) 01:28PM BST v16.3

v14.11: Made Premium Perks button available in the bottom left corner for all premium users v15.2: Fixed the Tumblr fuckup AND added a cool new feature that allows you to customise the look of your header & hide the reply-to-replies button if you like, here's how to customise this. Set to "Block" if you want the button/icon visible, Set to "None" if you want it hidden! V15.5: Given labels to options for clarity - now says 'show' or 'hide'! You can also fix the positioning of the Communities button and subnav from this menu as well - it should remember your settings when you update!

v15.9: The Boopdate! V16.0: Fixed Search view pages and made them look normal, unfortunately, I can't bring back the dropdown menus for "top"/"All Time" etc - but it should look more like the original now v16.3: Minor tweaks to make search pages look better

Tumblr Post Width & More (OTD+ Userstyle) Is now available!!

OTD+ is an add on for Old Tumblr dashboard that you can use to edit the Post Width, Content Positioning & More - It must be used with Old Tumblr Dashboard installed as well on the latest update! This style might be merged with OTD in the future.

THE CREATOR OF THIS USERSTYLE SUPPORTS THEIR TRANS SISTERS. WE'RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER!

Check the readmore for the changelog, custom code & known issues!

----- Known issues:

Only two columns in Masonry view. Semi-Unfixable, Tumblr creates columns based on monitor size, if I try adding another column (because it doesn't exist) it just perpetually loads on screen. Semi-fix: Zoom out in chrome/firefox and it adds more columns, you may need to change the font size of the page though

Search bar doesn't appear on some pages (like viewing a post), this is because Tumblr removed the search bar on those pages completely. Unfixable but not a big deal

Tumblr has ONCE AGAIN CHANGED THE ACCOUNTS MENU. The menus are now shorter and have less information on them. This is unfortunately permanent. I do not see any way to fix this. Unfixable.

If you want people's icons to stay fixed in place, instead of scrolling with the dashboard change this in Stylus;

Or if you're using the tampermonkey version

Find text:

.NLCTe > div.Evcyl > div > div > .So6RQ.YSitt > .ge_yK > .c79Av > article > header > .RYkKH > .nZ9l5 { pointer-events: auto; top: 55px; transition: top .25s; position: -webkit-sticky; position: sticky; } and replace it with;

.NLCTe > div.Evcyl > div > div > .So6RQ.YSitt > .ge_yK > .c79Av > article > header > .RYkKH > .nZ9l5 { pointer-events: auto; top: 0px; transition: top .25s; position: absolute; }

Solved issues: (Update)

Menus need to be manually closed SOLVED! in V.4 and updated in V.5! The menu & icon WILL scroll with you if you have removed the sticky header CSS, however, clicking anywhere on screen will make the Menu disappear still.

Masonry view in searches is now fixed!

Resized Messenger Chat Box!

NEW UPDATE 16/08/23, 23:55 BST v6.5: Figured out how to reorganise the icons in the header. Let me know if you have any problems with it and make sure to update your Userstyle! Some icons are hidden with Display: Block; you can hide more icons with this method!

Solved issues p2

Brought back SOME of the icons for Tumblrs latest update - Unfortunately, this does not bring back user icons for Reblogged posts! Make sure to yell at Tumblr for removing the icons as well as the horrible dashboard update here! v7.5 Fixed icons for all posts and put them back where they came from!

v6.9.6.9 (I promise this is the last funny number): Fuck Off Buggy The Clown Update + All languages support for the old header design!

v7.0: Fixed the search bar for tumblrs new collections feature, so it looks like the original search bar!

v8.0: Fixed masonry view icons, hidden the reblog icon on dashboard icons, fixed icons in blog viewport

V8.1: Fixed issue with icons not working on soft-refresh & with endless scrolling disabled - be sure to complain to staff!

v9.3: Changed a few things with the search feature, I also made the posts less round.

UPDATE2 11/04/2024: SO We mighhtttt have overrun their servers. 😅 I'm getting a 500 Internal Server Error every time I try to fix it or upload it as a new style - the massive influx of people downloading the userstyle was probably too much. The Tampermonkey backup on Greasyfork works just fine though! Probably easier for a lot of people migrating anyway! UPDATE 11/04/2024:: My code has broken on Userstyles.world, (it is now fixed as of 12/04/24) until this is fixed I have created a Tampermonkey Backup Version of the Userstyle so feel free to use this version if you've broken yours!

https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/492279-old-tumblr-dasboard-backup

v9.6: Moved the Following | For you | Your Tags to below the create a post panel. Fixed the Accounts Menu! + Bugfixes V10.3: Patio compatibility. Added a way to hide the Patio button & "patio feedback?" button, just search for patio in the code and follow the instructions! v11.0: Temporary Chat feature fix after Tumblr broke it, fixed some positioning issues and j/k scrolling!

v12.3: Fixed a text issue (my bad!), I undid the changes to the replies function and added a way to fix icons order for when you get the communities update!

v12.5: Update to make compatible with the Content Positioning using Tumblr Post Width & More (OTD+ Userstyle) v12.6: Post buttons fixed, icons unable to be fixed yet as I haven't got the tumblr changes just yet - but I will fix them asap!

v11.7: Communities Update, changed the new search bar on communities page to resemble the old one. The search bar still doesn't work on these pages yet for some reason. Blog view icons fixed. v13.0: The icons change should now have a working patchfix! BIG THANK YOU to arcadian-asgardian for sending me the screenshots I needed and testing if it worked. + Minor tweak, communities button resized to fit the rest of the icons better v13.2: Mini fixes now that I have better access to the new changes! Communities icon re-centered, usernames nudged back into place.

V13.5 & v13.7: Nuked the Go Premium button - Re-positioned the search bar on search pages v13.10: Changed a lot of the new look for replies - it's not perfect yet mind. Small bug with the "..." menu moving to the left with shorter replies. Looks a lot more like the old replies section though! Made it possible to remove the reply to reply button just search for "NEW Replies UI" in the userstyle and remove the /* */ around "display: none" OR use Ublock to block the element! v14.1: Reverted the "Original Poster" border + text to look like old version. Edit: Whoops, fixed an issue with showing the timestamps

v13.4: Added a way to fix the communities icon position if you don't have the New Xkit button or have hidden any of the icons. Just remove the highlighted /* */ pair in the code for what you need.

#tumblr #dashboard #tumblr dashboard #stylus #stylish #userstyles #userstyle #long post

24K notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 6 months ago

Text

CLOSER

18+ / mdi

summary: after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

content: f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, virgin reader, unrequited crush (not really lol), pov starts with reader but moves on to wonwoo's, basically just smut and almost no plot lol, like three separate smut scenes oops, smut, afab reader, dry humping, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.9k

a/n: this was longer and way messier than anticipated but i hope u guys like it!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"You're crazy,"

Those were Wonwoo's last words before scoffing and walking away, completely disregarding your presence.

"Wait!," you raised your voice, attempting to prevent his departure, "Just hear me out," you pleaded.

"'Hear you out'?", he scoffed, "You just asked me – out of nowhere – to 'teach you how to have sex.' The mere question was the end of the conversation," he deadpanned and continued walking away, you trailing behind.

Despite how cold and direct he was with his words, you knew him well enough to assess that he wasn't neither mad nor offended, just entirely uninterested in the proposition. He simply continued to walk away, far too indifferent about your admittedly strange request.

"Let me at least explain," you whined as you walked side by side with him.

He merely hummed, seemingly a bit annoyed at the fact you were still going on about such a silly prospect.

"Listen," you began, "You're the only person I can ask. You're the only one who knows I'm a virgin," you whispered the last words, as if any of the other students walking by would care enough to listen in on your conversation.

"Why do you need me to take it from you?", he grumbled, "Just wait til you meet some guy you like and lose it to him."

You let out a groan of annoyance, "Have you met a man before? They all suck! You're the only guy I trust," you added, "Plus, I'm 22. No guy is going to be patient enough with me not to traumatize me. They all assume I'm experienced already."

His speed did not diminish, but he turned to look at you after hearing that, a semi-serious look on his face, "Has anyone done anything-"

"No! It's just ... They kinda expect me to already know what I'm doing, and when I try to explain it they either get super horny or they just ghost me," you cringed at the sudden resurgence of failed attempts at dating through the past year.

"Okay, so, you want me to take your virginity just for research purposes?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Just watch porn, then," he deadpanned once more with a scoff.

"Wonwoo!," you slapped his arm in annoyance, "Please, at least try to take me seriously."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll take you seriously if you actually make some sort of methodological plan for me to assess. Only then will I actually try to come to a decision."

Spoken like a true nerd.

Unbeknownst to Wonwoo, his nerdiness was kind of part of his charm.

"Okay, fine, fucking nerd," you retorted, "You. Me. My apartment. This weekend. Meet me at 10 and I'll have your dumb 'procedural documentation' awaiting your approval," you spoke the last few words with a nasally tone in order to mock him, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Great," he smiled, "See you then, virgin."

"God, you actually made a slideshow?"

"You literally asked me for this," you groaned, "Now, stop talking and pay attention."

"This slideshow looks like shit. How are you even graduating?", he couldn't help but add.

"Anyways," you hissed back at him, "This is a step by step of what the plan is, okay? We'll go slide by slide."

He nodded, amused but also having given up on arguing.

The first slide showcased simple text detailing the following:

Step 1 - Kissing

He immediately burst out laughing.

"Stop!", you swatted the pointer you'd been using to point at the screen at him, "Let me talk before you laugh!", you demanded.

"Is 'removing our clothes' going to be on the slides too?", he laughed, holding onto his stomach from what apparently seemed to be the funniest thing to him.

"Moving on," you ignored him, clearing your throat and beginning the short speech you had prepared, "I've kissed guys before, which you know. But kissing and kissing during sex are two very different things," you explained.

"How would you know?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking, you fucking-", you stopped yourself before you could insult him, knowing he was just riling you up.

"Okay, fine. I get it. You can move onto the next slide," he conceded, though you could still spot some amusement on his face.

Step 2 - Oral (both ways)

"How is me giving you oral going to help you learn to have sex if you're not doing anything?", he asked before you could even speak.

"Are you telling me you don't do oral? That's very Dj Khaled of you."

His eyes widened as he backtracked, "W-what? No! I love doing o- wait, no. I'm not talking about this," he stumbled over his words, "You know that's not what I meant."

"Plus, there's no need to teach you oral. Any guy would cum at you getting on your knees for them," he added without thinking, immediately shutting himself up upon realizing what he'd said.

Even from the place you were standing, and with the distance between you and the couch Wonwoo was sitting on, your reaction at his words could easily be noticed by him. You were both equally sheepish at his slipup, causing you to both look away in embarrassment.

"What I meant was-"

"No, uh, I get it, I-"

"Uh, maybe move onto the third slide?", he coughed out, clearing his throat.

"Yeah- yeah, sure."

Step 3 - Foreplay

"Okay, so you did add removing our clothes as a step."

"These are completely different things," you rebutted, having completely moved on from the previous awkwardness.

Suddenly, he stood up, taking your pointer from you and setting it down.

"Okay, you can stop with the slideshow," he said.

"Why? What's wrong with my slideshow?", you argued.

"Well, for one, it doesn't actually have any useful information in it. Two, these are all natural steps to sex that I don't need a recap on," he took a breath before continuing, "And three, I don't need any more convincing. I'll help you."

"What? Really?," you gaped at him.

He nodded, attempting to be nonchalant about it, "I mean, yeah. I was always going to help you, just needed to think it over a bit more. We're friends and I don't want you feeling lost on your first time, or getting taken advantage of by some asshole, so," he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

You wrapped your arms around him, far too enthusiastic for the subject at hand, but mostly just thankful for his agreement.

"Thank you, Wonwoo. God, I was so nervous I'd have to find some random guy on tinder," you mumbled against his chest.

Tenderly hugging you back, he hummed at your statement, slightly annoyed at the implication of some random guy taking your virginity, but not verbally expressing that annoyance.

"When do you want to do it?", he asked once you'd pulled away.

"Is, uh, is Wednesday okay? I know you only have Tuesday-Thursday classes this semester," you offered.

"Yeah, that's good. Do you want to do it all at once or-"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, not wanting to say the words, as the thought of it was already getting to him. He gulped silently before continuing, "I mean the, uh, oral and the kissing, and whatever else you had on that slideshow."

"Oh! Uh, well, what do you think? Should we just do it all at once?" you asked with a newfound innocence in your eyes.

It occurred to Wonwoo that you might have been even far more inexperienced than he had first thought. This was something you'd never spoken about too in depth, but now that he really thought about it, maybe the reason why your slideshow was so simple and childish had been because of a genuine lack of knowledge in the matter. Now he wasn't sure whether he should simply sleep with you or actually show you every step necessary to ensure your pleasure and his own.

"We can take a day for oral and hand stuff," he huffed out, "and then we can use that new knowledge for foreplay before we, you know."

He felt like the virgin at his lack of ability to utter the word sex under this context.

"A-ah, okay. That sounds good," you blinked up at him, "What about ... Uh, what about kissing?", you added shyly.

"What about it?"

"Nothing. Never mind," you created some extra distance between you, timidly looking down in embarrassment at your question.

It made Wonwoo feel like shit that his simple question had made you ashamed at having asked one of your own. He needed to resolve this quickly. Sex was clearly a sore subject for you, he didn't want his teasing to actually make you feel badly.

"No, tell me. Please," he grabbed onto your arm so you'd look at him again.

"Well, I- Fuck, this is so embarrassing," you chuckled humorlessly at yourself before finally looking back at him, "I've never been kissed like that before. I was, uh, hoping that you could teach me? So I know what to do then we actually, you know."

Similarly to him, you were too shy to actually speak the word out loud, though you both knew exactly what you meant. The heavy air in the room only confirmed it.

"Oh," he breathed out, "I can ... teach you now, if you want."

The word 'teach' had him feeling lightheaded. Thinking about directing you, holding you close to him as he took his time showing you everything he liked – everything that would have him thinking of you every lonely night after the fact – as you obediently nodded under him, it all made an animalistic feeling arise within him.

"Yeah? Okay, how do we-", you began, nodding as you eyed the room to see where would be the best place to do it.

Wonwoo stopped you before you could actually wander off, holding onto your elbows and pulling you to him. They naturally slid down to your hips to position you against him.

"Here is fine."

Those were his last words before his lips descended onto your own, eyes so hooded they were almost fully closed. The kiss was very soft in nature, with it being almost just a simple peck before he pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.

"You've been kissed like that before. Right?", he mumbled.

You nodded, head tilting upwards as you shyly attempted to incite him into reconnecting your lips.

"I'm going to show you how you should kiss a guy if you want him to ... you know," he explained, breathing heavily into your mouth at the mere thought.

Barely managing to nod again, your lips were encapsulated by his own once more, this time engaging in a wet kiss, mouth immediately invaded by his tongue.

In retrospect, Wonwoo made the kiss more sensual than he intended to. There was an extra layer of intimacy than he would usually allow when he kissed someone he considered a mere hookup. But how could he kiss you like he would a hookup when you were so soft and pliant and vulnerable as you stared up at him? Having to hold back a gruttal groan as he kissed you, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips to center himself a bit.

At some point your tongue shyly came out to play with his own, making a timid attempt of mirroring his movements. The kiss became slightly messy, but that's just how Wonwoo liked it, causing a few muted grunts to sound out into the otherwise quiet room.

Wonwoo's hands came up to your jaw, angling your face in a way that would allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue at the optimal angle, suckling into your own and drawing pretty whines out of you. It was easy for him to tell that you were becoming affected by the mere kisses, making his mind fuzzy in return.

He could only hold on so much before he began walking you back, eventually landing against a wall and pressing you up into it, hands going back down to your waist to press your body up against his own. The atmosphere of the room became heavier, just as his movements. Hands gripped your waist and your chests pressed together. Your back arched deliciously as one of his hands landed on the small of your back, making your breasts rub against his hard chest.

A groan involuntarily slipped out of Wonwoo's lips at the feeling of your pebbled nipples digging at his chest. Fuck, you weren't wearing a bra.

In the meantime, your hands pulled at Wonwoo's hair, becoming rasher in their movements by the minute. You fed off Wonwoo's reactions to the pulling of his hair, pulling extra hard any time he grumbled into your lips a little louder.

His hands remained in the same general area of your waist and lower back up until one of them braved their way down to your thigh, going as far down as the back of your knee to wrap your leg around his waist, causing your crotches to make the first contact of the night.

Gasping a shuddered breath, Wonwoo disconnected your lips and began kissing down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck at spots he had a feeling would have you gasping his name. This, accompanied by a hesitant grind of his hips into your own, awarded him the prettiest gasps landing against his ear.

"Wonwoo ..." you sighed, "Is this- Am I doing a good job?" you asked, tilting your head back to nudge his lips against your own again, landing some soft yet wet pecks on his lips.

"So good," he nodded with a kiss, "Such a quick learner," were his last words before starting another long series of languid kisses between you.

Hips became braver, – both yours and his – filling the room with the sounds of clothes ruffling and muffled sighs in between wet swipes of your tongues. His large hand angled your leg even higher, angling his cock right against your cunt in a way that had you breaking the kiss as you gasped his name. Wonwoo did not allow you to pull away, however, simply opting to lick into your open mouth and entice you into continuing the kiss.

"Wonwoo, I can't, I- Fuck, I need-"

"Shhh," he hushed you, "I know, baby. Just keep moving your hips, okay? Let me show you all my favorite things," he whispered against your skin, not daring to halt the friction that had him on the verge of cumming in his pants.

"Is this- Is this what you usually do when you kiss a girl?", you asked, tilting your head back to allow him to kiss at your neck to his heart's contentment.

"Yes," he lied through his teeth, knowing he never let passion take over him so quickly with any other girl. He let his lips trail back to your own in order to prevent himself from having to speak further, but also because he couldn't stray away from you for too long.

He was sure he'd never forget those soft breaths you left against his lips any time he'd reconnect them, wordlessly expressing how affected you were by what he considered to be such a small gesture – or at least what he previously thought it to be, up until he kissed his best friend on an arbitrary Saturday morning.

As badly as he wanted to keep your lips attached to his own, he was beginning to feel his self control slip through his fingers the more he humped against you. The more he did so, the less finesse his movements had, forcing him to bury his head on the crook of your neck and groan into your skin. His hands went down to your legs, starting to drag your hips against his own and freely grunting at the stimulation. His sweats and your shorts were both thin enough for him to feel the heat of your cunt, fully aware that if he looked down, he'd find a mixture of wetness on the cloth from his precum and your slickness.

"Fuck," he sighed, "You feel so fucking good ..."

"Am I, shit- am I making you feel good?", you managed to squeak out.

Wonwoo's mind melted at the way you sought out his approval, looking to see if you were making him feel as good as he did you. Were his pathetic moans not enough indicator of how godforsakenly affected by you he was?

Then he remembered you had no point of reference to understand how intimate and heated this moment was – how the dragging of his cock against your clothed folds could so easily become his undoing.

"You're doing so fucking good. Gonna make me cum, fuck," he breathed, making his way back to your lips, "Need you to cum for me first, though. Okay, pretty? Are you close for me?", he mumbled in between heated kisses.

"So close," you were barely able to respond due to Wonwoo's insistence on keeping his lips on yours.

"A guy should always make you cum first, understand? If- fucking shit," he grunted out when he felt you beginning to pulse against him, an entire separate heartbeat forming on your cunt, "If he doesn't, he's not worth it. You come first. Okay, baby? A-always you."

The mere thought of some other loser even hearing the cute, breathy gasps you were letting out made him fume, but he couldn't get into that while you were almost on the verge of breaking down for him. He needed you to at least know what type of guys to fend away from, but he also wanted to show you how he could give you exactly what a man should – that he would always prioritize you and your pleasure.

You nodded mindlessly, completely out of it yet absolutely absorbed by the pleasure, "I need- Fuck, Nonu ... I need to cum. Please, I-"

"Cum. Be good for me and cum, pretty. I'm right there ... Fuck, gonna make me cum in my pants," he wheezed out, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when your nails dug into his skin as your orgasm took over.

Wonwoo came the second he felt you come undone, having held back from far too long in order to prioritize you – something he would always do. A mixture of emotions took over as his body underwent the immense pleasure your clothed cunt had given him. A sense of pride undertook him at knowing he had made you cum undone completely untouched. Any shame he could've felt at cumming in his pants like a horny loser left him as he took in every gasp and cry of his name as you held against him for dear life.

Burying his head in your shoulder again, he whispered words of praise and encouragement into your ear all while his hips continued their canting against yours, damning any sensitivity he may have felt due to the overstimulation. His brain was fuzzy at the pleasure, but his instinctual need to make you feel as good as humanly possible overrode any other thought in his mind.

By the end of it all, all that could be heard were your heavy breaths. Holding onto each other, you forgot about anything surrounding the bubble you currently found yourselves in. Seeking your lips again, Wonwoo gave you one last languid kiss, humming into your lips in contentment at the thought of what had just happened.

"That's, uh, that's usually how kissing goes when you're going to have sex," he explained.

He suddenly felt very awkward, embarrassed at how easily he had lost control at a simple touch of your lips. — He was supposed to merely kiss you, not defile you through your clothes against the wall of your apartment!

"Oh- Okay, that's good to know," you murmured whilst looking down at your feet timidly.

At least he wasn't alone in the feeling.

Finally creating some distance between you, he chuckled humorlessly, clearing his throat.

"Sorry if that was too much," he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"No, that was perfect- I mean, thank you! No, wait, I mean, that's exactly what I needed- fuck," you groaned, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment at being unable to find the right words.

It was mind-boggling how easy it was for you to provoke adoration out of Wonwoo when you had just been the primary source of his lust mere moments ago.

"It's okay, I understand," he went to remove your hands from your face, looking at you with a smile, "Do you still want to meet on Wednesday?", he asked sheepishly.

"For oral, you mean?", you asked so innocently, completely disregarding the implication behind those words.

Coughing out as air caught in his throat, he cleared his throat before being able to respond, "Y-yes, it's- it's whatever you want."

"Well ..." you started, "You don't have classes on Monday, right? Maybe we could do it then? You know, so we don't have to drag this out too long?"

Oh.

Was this just something you wanted to get over with?

That made sense, considering that this was all simply a favor you were asking from Wonwoo. That knowledge still didn't prevent Wonwoo from feeling let down by your words, however.

At the end of the day it didn't make that much of a difference when you did it, but he couldn't help but have this sick hope inside him to prolong this as much as possible; maybe even do repeat 'lessons' if necessary. Especially when he knew that the moment he actually slept with you, you'd go out into the world and find someone else to do the things he taught you with.

There was a reason he had originally been apprehensive about your proposal. He knew that the mere second he had your eyes staring up at his with anything more than platonic feelings in them, he'd fall even deeper for you–

Right, did he forget to mention he was in love with you?

It was a controllable crush. He knew how far his feelings could go, so he never tested his luck with you. He also had far too much love and respect for you as a friend to ever overstep any boundaries outside of the limits within your friendship. This was why he had been initially adamant about denying you. He knew that there was no way to keep his heart out of it, but he also knew that there was no way for him to resist such opportunity, which was why he ultimately said yes.

So for now he had to make the best of it.

Was it selfish? Maybe. But he would also be helping you out along the way, so maybe it was more of a selfless act in the end. He'd be the one getting his heart broken, after all.

"Yeah, sure. You can come over to my place on Monday," was his response.

"Might as well get this over with," had been what he added as an afterthought, not taking note of the emotion changing in your eyes.

"Hey."

Wonwoo attempted to adopt a casual demeanor as he welcomed you in, hoping you didn't take note of how much he had pampered himself in preparation for you (Maybe aftershave plus cologne had been a tad much).

"Hi, Nonu," you responded, clearly way more relaxed than he was.

It was almost as if he was the virgin about to get deflowered.

Walking in, you made yourself at home, walking past him and immediately sitting on his couch. It was common for you to be at his apartment, so this visit wasn't anything out of the ordinary thus far.

Up until you spoke up.

"I might've gone overboard with preparing myself for tonight," you suddenly said, grimacing at yourself in embarrassment.

"What do you mean?"

You were wearing a simple pair of leggings and an oversized top; very common outfit for you. Sure, you looked beautiful, but he wasn't sure exactly what you meant by overly preparing yourself.

"You'll see," was all you said, patting the empty spot next to you on the couch.

Closing the door of his apartment, he walked over to you, taking a seat and facing you on the couch. Although he had sat at a slight distance from you, you had scoot over to him immediately, facing him as your knees graced against his own.

You smiled shyly at him, eyes not fully meeting his own as you seemingly tried to think of what to say.

"How- how should we start?", you finally asked.

Wonwoo took a breath, "What do you want me to show you today? Was last time helpful to you?"

"Yes!", you immediately responded, cringing at your own enthusiastic answer, "Sorry, I don't mean to sound like such a loser," you chuckled awkwardly, "But it did help me. I feel way less nervous about it all now."

"What's making you nervous?," he shuffled closer to you.

"Just ... You?", you started, "You're already so experienced and I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you or ... not make you feel good," you mumbled the last few words.

That took Wonwoo for a loop. 'Not make him feel good'? Had you seen yourself? Had you seen him just two days ago? He was a mess of himself at the mere feeling of some amateur dry humping. He was the one who should be nervous at the thought of your finally seeing your open legs in front of his face.

He chuckled sheepishly at you, "There's no way you could ever make me not feel good. I don't know if you want to hear this from me, but, you're so fucking gorgeous. Any guy, and I mean any, would kill if you gave them the time of day. You don't even need any of this 'training,'" he said with air-quotes, "There would probably be a line full of guys itching to get a chance to be with you; to take your virginity," he ranted, knowing he was doing himself a disservice in vying for other guys, but needing you to know how impossible it'd be for you to embarrass yourself when you were so you; so seductive and mind-boggling without even realizing it.

"Oh," you breathed out at his praise, clearing your throat right after to recover, "But I only trust you," you said, putting your hands on his, "I only care what you think and how you ... how you teach me," your eyes looked into his, wide and innocent.

"I'll teach you. I'll teach you anything you want," he swallowed a deep breath, breathing through his nose, "Do you ... Do you want to start with what I taught you the other day?", he decided to get the ball rolling.

You nodded silently, surprising him when you suddenly went to straddle on his lap, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down slowly, placing your lips on his.

The two of you hadn't discussed yet what exactly you'd be doing today, but getting your lips on his seemed like a necessity for Wonwoo at this moment in time. It was the most important thing to him with the current fogginess in his mind.

The kiss became heated quickly. It seemed like you had some trouble building up the tension and instead gave the kiss your all right away. Either that, or you simply felt equally as affected as Wonwoo and needed to portray that through your kiss as soon as possible. That might've been wishful thinking, but Wonwoo kept his hopes up.

His large hands wrapped around you, holding onto your ass and gasping when he felt you begin to move, digging his nails into your plush hips to guide you. It was all happening too fast, but he had no complaints. Not when you were somehow grinding so expertly against him all while breathing the cutest sighs into his mouth.

"Like this? Is it like this, Wonwoo?", you asked into his mouth, whining when he decided to lick at your tongue as you spoke.

"Yes ... Such a fast learner. So fucking good," he breathed, dragging your hips against his own.

Leaning back against the couch, he pulled you closer, planting his feet on the ground and matching your movements. Your leggings and his basketball shorts were thin enough for him to pretend they weren't there, feeling all the heat you were forming between your bodies and groaning at the friction.

Wonwoo suddenly gasped into your mouth when he felt an intrusion between you, only taking him a moment to realize that your hand had snuck down and began feeling him up to find his cock, slowly halting your movements. He let you fully slow down, groaning when your hand enveloped him through his shorts.

"Will you teach me how to make you feel good? Want you to make you cum with my hands, Nonu," you murmured between wet kisses.

He went to heaven and came right back at your words. Your voice was so shy yet so sensual, making his brain override with lust. He had to take a few moments to answer, or else he would've only been able to offer you a pathetic whimper as an response.

Despite having slept with many girls before, having almost each of them put their hands on his cock just as you were doing, none ever made him feel so desperate and depraved. Neither did they cause the warmth in his chest the same way you did.

"Anything you want," he mumbled, head completely empty, "Let me- let me take off my pants, okay, pretty?"

You moved to the side for a moment, allowing him to remove his pants and boxers as you watched with your bottom lipped trapped between your teeth. He could've sworn he heard you sigh when his cock was finally out in the open, but there was no way to confirm it.

"Shirt too?", you requested, staring at him with eyes he just couldn't deny.

Throwing it off, he immediately pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips again and again. You kept whining into his lips, hands coming to his chest to feel him up, crying out into his lips any time you'd make contact with hard muscle.

Wonwoo knew you liked his physique, – you'd told him so many times before – but having you be so affected by his body had him on a high. This would only feed into him and cause him to go even harder at it next time he hit the gym. Bulking up out of his own volition suddenly went down on his list of priorities, being dethroned by a need to have you needily feel him up just as you currently were.

Next thing he knew, your hand went from his chest, down to his abs, landing on his aching dick.

"It's so big ... Is it supposed to be this big?", you asked against his lips, a petulant tone in your voice.

There was no way you didn't know what you were doing. Was there? Were you really so fucking inexperienced and pliant for him? Or were you simply trying to put his restraint to the test?

One look into your eyes responded those questions for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and there was a look of wonder in your face. You seemed worried about his size, but also ditzy with desire for him – just like he was for you.

"It's okay ... Just, just wrap your hands around it, yeah? I'll take you from there," he instructed, pecking your lips once for reassurance, "Y-yeah, just like t-that, fuck ..." he huffed, "Now ... just twist- yeah, fuck, that's it ..."

"Like this?", you asked, wide eyed and pouty, jerking him off almost perfectly. You were shy in your movements, but you were still causing Wonwoo to lose track of how to breathe properly.

"Yes, that's so good, shit. You're doing so good ..."

Suddenly, your other hand went down to his balls, toying at them shyly, gasping when you took notice of Wonwoo's chocked-out breath.

"Sorry! Was that-"

"Do it again ... Fuck, do that again," he grumbled, attempting to keep his voice low.

Silently, you followed his instruction, continuing to use both hands to jerk him off and play with his balls. You bit your lip, giving him Wonwoo a look of unadulterated lust he had never seen from you. His best option at that moment was to close his eyes and lean his head back against the back of the couch. If not, he'd be forced to watch you and further lose his mind.

Only a few moments later, Wonwoo felt a sudden wetness against his nipple, making him hiss. You had brought your head down to his chest, lips kitten-licking at his nipple, teeth occasionally scraping it when you took notice of his shuddered breaths at the action. You were making Wonwoo a complete mess of himself, and he had no ability to stop you – you were taking over all his senses.

"Baby ... You're gonna m-make me cum. Being so fucking good for me," he sighed, "Such a good fucking girl," the thought was rotting his mind. You were being so fucking good for him; making him feel good. No one had ever felt your touch in such a way, only him.

"Nonu, please cum ... I'm so fucking wet, I need you so bad," you whined into his chest, "Need you to show me how you'd make me feel good," you added as an afterthought. Wonwoo knew lust was taking over you, and it exhilarated him.

"Cumming, f-fuck," he had completely blanked on getting something to cover himself with when he finally came, which was why it came to his surprise when you brought down your lips to the head of his cock, wrapping them around it and softly sucking as he emptied himself out.

"Fuck, so good- so fucking good. Pretty girl so fucking obedient and, and good for me, f-fuck. Don't even have to tell you to- to lick me clean. Making me lose my mind ..." he rambled, eyes rolling back at both the feeling and sight of you sucking his dick throughout the entirety of his orgasm.

Having emptied himself out, you took him out of your mouth, using your fingers to wipe at any leftover cum on the side of your lips and licking them clean. Wonwoo could not stand that image for too long, dragging you in for a sad excuse of a kiss that mostly consisted of his tongue sucking at your own, attempting to steal his taste from your mouth. Sighing into his lips, you somehow ended up on his lap again, hips immediately grinding against his sensitive cock.

He couldn't bring himself to care about how sensitive he felt when you were so visibly desperate for that friction, dragging your hips into his slowly-hardening cock, positioning yourself so you'd rub right against your walls.

Sadly, the feeling soon became too much, leading to Wonwoo pulling away despite your whines in defiance, "Need you to lay back on the couch, okay, pretty? Gonna take care of you now," he whispered into your lips.

You stopped whining and nodded, sitting back against the couch as he got up, now being the one to straddle you, though not putting any of his weight on you.

His hands ran up and down your body, trying to assess where to start. There were so many fantasies running through his mind, and not enough self control to enact every single one.

"Can I undress you?"

Nodding, you began doing it yourself, only to be stopped by him.

"The guy should be the one undressing you, okay, baby? He should take care of you in every way," he added, "I should've made you cum first today, but you insisted I teach you how to get me off," he tsk'd lightheartedly at you, almost as if scolding you for having caught him off guard, "But I'll make it up to you."

You giggled, "Okay, Nonu. I'll let you take care of me first next time," you agreed.

Next time. God, did he have plans for next time.

His hands made their way to your shirt, lifting it up as you raised your arms to assist him. His original plan was to move onto your pants immediately, leaving you in just your underwear all at once, but the sight under your shirt distracted him too much to even remember his name.

Seeing each other today for this reason had been a last minute plan, so Wonwoo was entirely unprepared for what was sitting right in front of him. He attempted to speak a few times, but just ended up closing his mouth right after, eventually leading you into a shy giggle at how dumb he must've appeared.

"Do you like it?," you bit your lip shyly, "I told you I might've over-prepared ..."

Sitting in front of him, you were currently donning the prettiest little sheer bra, accompanied by embroidered flowers on the cups, but still allowing him prime view of your nipples through the fabric. The color of the sheer piece suited you perfectly, making your nipples peak through in a way that had his eyes glued to your chest.

You had picked out some pretty lingerie ... just for him. Now he not only had to deal with the sight, but also the thought of you dolling yourself up just for him.

After a few moments of his silence, you called him out, making him snap out of his thirst.

"Fuck, is it too much? I thought- I thought you'd appreciate if I wore something pretty for you," you mumbled, shifting awkwardly at his lack of reaction, wrongly assuming that he was put off.

Fuck, did he have to be such an idiot? Why was he acting like he'd never seen breasts or lingerie before? You made him feel like he was an inexperienced virgin who was looking up tits online for the first time.

"No! Fuck, no, that's not it at all," his hands went to your cheeks, making your eye line match his, "You just surprised me, that's all," he took a breath, "You look insanely gorgeous, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

He closed the gap between you temporarily, gifting you a few pecks as he responded, "Please tell me it's a matching set," he pleaded into your mouth.

Your demeanor changed, giggling at him and shrugging with a bite of your lip, "Why don't you check?"

Determined, he helped you lift your hips as he dragged your leggings off, being rewarded with the sight of equally sheer panties, the almost transparent fabric giving him optimal view of your cunt, which was already glistening with your wetness.

"Do you want-"

Wonwoo would never know what you were going to ask, as he suddenly trapped you in a kiss, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you to lean against the back of the couch. Sighing into his lips, you followed his rhythm, letting out tiny moans when his hands went down to toy with your tits, rubbing and pinching at your nipples through your bra.

Whining and crying into his lips, you took over every single one of his senses. You were too perfect for him, making feel genuine distress at how badly he wanted you.

His hand slowly headed south, finding its way to your cunt, fingers beginning to rub at you through the fabric. Your desperate hips matched his movements, grinding into his hand as he continued to kiss you, swallowing every plea of his name.

"Ever touched yourself before, pretty?", he whispered.

Shaking your head, your cheeks warmed up, "N-never knew how. Never felt good," you murmured almost too low for him to hear.

This almost halted his movements, but he didn't want to risk your embarrassment growing over it, so he simply let his fingers go past the barrier of your panties, now rubbing you directly, though not penetrating your walls just yet. He wanted to hear more from you.

"No?", he coo'd, keeping his cool, "Have you- have you ever orgasmed?"

You took a short pause, kissing at his cheek and making a trail down to his neck to distract him. This only worked for a few moments (He might've gotten too distracted by your cunt), but after a few seconds he put a stop to his movements, only keeping pressure on your cunt as he made it so you'd look into his eyes.

"Baby? You can tell me," he encouraged.

"No ... My first orgasm was the one you gave me a few days ago, when we ..."

Oh.

Had it been-

Had your first orgasm been when he dry humped you against the wall?

Fuck.

A mixture of pride and embarrassment invaded Wonwoo's mind. On one side, he was incredibly mortified that he had taken your first orgasm by humping into you like an animal in heat. On the other, he felt like he was on top of the world knowing that no one, not even yourself, had ever drawn an orgasm out of you until he came along.

His body decided to go with the latter, immediately feeling his loins fire up with an immense desire to give you another orgasm. And then another, and another – up until you were sobbing under him.

He kissed you again before you could express any form of embarrassment, shoving his tongue in your mouth and finally digging his fingers into your cunt. The moans you let out against his lips were muffled by his insistence on kissing you. Your hands didn't know where to land, going from his thighs to his waist and finally halting at his biceps, nails digging into them at the pleasure.

Slowly, he angled his fingers in your cunt, pumping them with increasing speed while his thumb toyed around for your clit, staying stationed on the swollen bud upon finding it.

"Never touched your pussy like this, baby? Hmm? Never filled yourself up?", he practically taunted, reeling on the fact that he was making you discover all this brand new pleasure.

"N-no, Nonu. Never ... Feels so good, s-so full. Please don't stop," you whimpered, gasping when he began pistoning into that spongy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"This is only the beginning, pretty. Gonna get you on my tongue next. Fuck, pussy's so warm and tight. Bet it tastes so good," he rambled, picturing his cock suffocating between your walls.

"Keep talking to me, Nonu. L-love when you talk to me."

— You liked his horny ramblings about your cunt? This was a match made in heaven.

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you?"

You nodded with wide eyes.

"Gonna drive you to the edge of orgasm with my fingers," his fingers slowed down to emphasize his point, "and then I'm gonna rip it away from you," he chuckled when you let out a tiny whimper at the threat, "But don't worry, baby, then I'm going to lick you up, gonna tease you with my tongue til you're crying ... and then I'm gonna make you cum. Won't waste a single drop of your orgasm, pretty. Gonna lick it all up and make you suck it out of my tongue," he finished, out of breath whilst his fingers continued their torturously slow pace.

"Please ... Want- wanna cum. Just- you can make me cum twice ... Right? Just make me cum again, fuck, please?", you were a complete mess by the end of his ramblings, making his hardening cock become even more rigid.

He'd been dealing with his cock pressing up against your stomach this whole time, knowing that it was probably digging into you as it continued to harden at every whimper that left your mouth. After you'd sucked him off through his own orgasm, he knew he'd have to end up seeking another one after you left, except that task was becoming harder by the minute.

Despite his inner turmoil at his delayed pleasure, you were clearly still his main priority. Chuckling darkly at your desperation, he coo'd at you patronizingly, nosing at your cheek up until his lips found your ears, whispering filth into them.

"Wanna cum? Wanna be a greedy girl and cum on my fingers and then on my mouth?" he nibbled at your lobe, chuckling again at the desperate way in which you nodded. He pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, meanly speeding up his fingers so you'd grow closer to your orgasm, "Okay, pretty. You can cum for me. Been such a good girl for me ... Cum? Make a mess, hmm?," he encouraged.

With a mantra of 'thank you's' whispered into his ear, you tightened around him as your orgasm washed over you, forcing Wonwoo to develop an entirely new sense of self control to prevent himself from cumming along with you, intensely affected by the sight. His fingers played with you through your orgasm, up until you silently squirmed at him to remove them.

Satisfied, he pulled out your fingers and dragged them up to his lips, sucking them in a manner so depraved, he was embarrassed by the way you became bashful at the sight. He shrugged off the embarrassment, gathering more honey from between your legs and lifting his fingers up to your own lips, groaning deep in his chest at how obediently you sucked at them, making eyes at him while you gagged on his fingers.

With an impossibly hard cock, he struggled to get on his knees in front of the couch, but managed to just out of the sheer need to bury his head between your legs. His mind couldn't even allow him to give you time to recover before pulling at your legs, dragging you closer to him. You wanted to experience sexual acts in preparation for the next guy that caught your eye? Well, then Wonwoo would have to make sure to lift your expectations as high as possible, hopefully rendering you unable to find anyone who could ever bring you as much pleasure as he would. And he would start by suckling into your sensitive cunt until you cried.

"N-Nonu! Fuck, oh, God, just like that!" you cried in desperation.

He couldn't blame you. The way in which he had immediately latched onto your cunt and gone to town between your legs had been far too intense, not bothering to ease you into it nor wait for you to recover from your previous orgasm.

You sobbed and cried above him, fingers tangled in his hair as you pushed him further into your cunt, clearly too lustful to have any decorum. But did Wonwoo care for decorum? Not when he also didn't have any. Not when he endlessly groaned into your pussy, grumbling praise and pleas for you to use him to your heart's contentment. Any thought of this being a way to teach you what oral was like had been buried deep in the back of his mind. For now, you were his to invade with pleasure and nothing else mattered.

After digging deep within you with his tongue, he pulled away (despite your whines in complaint), pointing his tongue to flick at your puffy clit. You responded by grinding into him, mumbling pleas for more. At some point you had taken off your bra, Wonwoo realized as he took a peak above him, finding one of your hands toying at a nipple. The sight made him want to be buried alive. His cock was surely hard as a rock by now, and the need to grab you and fuck you into a mumbling mess kept growing by the minute.

The couch began squeaking when Wonwoo's intensity in eating you out increased, your grinding also becoming faster and more erratic. His hips joined in on the commotion, rocking against the foot of the couch in a pathetic attempt to find some friction. You took notice of this after a while, crying out his name.

"Nonu ... Fuck ... Is it like this? Is this- is this how it's supposed to feel?", you sobbed, "I can't- It's too much- too good, fuck, Wonwoo ... Please ... Wanna cum."

He wanted so badly to tell you this was not the norm. That no man would ever be as thirsty for you as he was. That no one could ever bring you this amount of pleasure nor worship you as much as him. But he opted to make you cry even more instead, rubbing his nose into your clit while he licked into you with an unquenchable thirst.

"It's that good, baby? Making you feel good?," he instigated you into more nonsensical babbles.

You nodded frantically, "Wanna- wanna try it on you ... Y-your cock. Wanna suck your dick, Nonu, fuck. Please don't cum ... I need to be the one to make you cum. Teach me? P-please?", you suddenly threw him a curveball with your pleas, causing his hips to still with a gruttal groan.

"Fuck, baby ... Want my cock? I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, just cum for me, okay, gorgeous? Hmm? Gonna cum for me?", he mumbled into your cunt, groaning at your increasingly high-pitched moans.

You sounded so gone and desperate for him, it was making it hard for him to not continue seeking tension on his cock by humping the couch. But the mere thought of your lips wrapped around his cock while you asked him to teach you how to make him cum had his mind focused on a single mission.

"C-cumming, Nonu! I'm gonna- fuck, please, please, please," you whimpered in between gasps.

Intensely thirsty for you, Wonwoo sucked at your cunt through the entirety of your orgasm, licking at any cum that managed to escape his mouth up until you had to physically drag his face away from between your legs, earning a sheepish chuckle out of him at his pussydrunkness.

He climbed the couch back up, kissing you once again, pushing in any leftover cum in his mouth for you to taste. Harshly, you pulled at his hair as you licked into his mouth. It was amusing to Wonwoo how easily you'd gotten used to kissing him just in the way he'd taught you. It sent shivers down his spine thinking of how perfect you were for him.

"Want your-"

"I know, baby. Want my cock, huh? I'll give it to you, just ... Let me kiss you," he mumbled against your lips while his hand went up to play with your tits, thumbs swiping at your nipples.

Kissing him back with just as much need, the two of you remained like this for a few minutes, breathing moans into the other's mouth until losing your breaths. Wonwoo took this as an opportunity to kiss his way down to your chest, sucking at your tits with greedy moans.

It was borderline pathetic how much he wanted you. He had already cum once, yet his cock was leaking precum once again, swollen and aching for your lips around it again. He had only felt you wrapped around his tip, suctioning enough to swallow his cum, but he was yet to show you how to truly take him.

Wonwoo's sexual frustration got to him faster than he expected, leading him to yet another trail to your lips before whispering into them, "Are you ready, baby?"

Nodding, you swallowed in anticipation. He proceeded to sit next to you on the couch, far enough that you'd be able to reach his cock if you knelt on top of the couch and leaned down to his side. Repositioning you, he shuddered when you finally began to lean down, lips quickly approaching his cock. But you stopped before you could make contact, staring up at him nervously.

"How ... I'm not sure how to do it ..." you murmured.

He coo'd at you, placing a hand on your cheek, "It's okay, pretty. You can change your mind, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted, "Just ... Guide me?"

You began leaning down again, keeping your eyes on Wonwoo (something he knew would come to break him), silently asking for instructions.

"Just lick it first, okay? Then- fuck ... Pretty, shit, slow down ... God, fuck, just like that ... Shit, are you sure you need me to teach you? So fucking good already ..." he groaned when you began taking him in your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and head bobbing up and down.

Your hands wrapped around what couldn't make it into your mouth while you pushed him in as far in as possible. Occasionally, you'd choke, pulling back enough to breathe properly through your nose, but you continued to suck him off to the best of your inexperienced ability. It was messy and filthy for you both, but Wonwoo enjoyed it all the more at seeing just how desperate you were to get him off.

"My pretty girl," he grunted, hands digging into your hair as he helped you bob up and down, aiding your rhythm, "My beautiful girl loves my cock, huh? So- so fucking thirsty for it. Making me lose my mind," he continued to ramble, too addicted to the moans you'd let out at his every word, vibrating around his dick.

He was far too pent up and sensitive to survive your mouth for too long. Having watched your orgasm twice whilst humping the couch had drawn him too far to his end before you'd even wrapped your lips around him.

"I'm gonna- gonna cum, okay, pretty? Need- need you to keep your mouth on me. Swallow it all for me? Hmm? Y-yes, shit, keep doing that," he encouraged, head dizzy at your moan of confirmation.

Sooner than anticipated, his high robbed him of any ability to think or breathe, too absorbed by the immense pleasure you were bringing him. His hips canted slowly into your mouth as he rode the wave of his orgasm, eyes rolling back at how willing you were to let him use his mouth for his undivided pleasure. Once more, you swallowed every drop, drawing embarrassingly loud groans from his lips as he threw his head back.

With a heavy breath, you took him out of your mouth, wiping your cum-stained lips with the back of your hand before being suddenly pulled into Wonwoo's lap with a yelp.

"Such a good girl," he groaned into your lips, trapping you in the nth kiss of the night. He licked at every inch of your mouth, seeking out his own cum from your tongue.

He still felt incredibly needy, but knew that another orgasm would render him useless for the rest of the day. You, however, were clearly too affected for him to stop. Deciding to provide you with another new form of pleasure, he positioned you so you'd straddle his lap, guiding your hips to grind on the length of it with your bare cunt, still soaked and begging for attention.

"N-nonu," you stammered with a breathy sigh, "Fuck, feels good ..."

"Yeah, pretty? Feels so good, huh? Keep grinding on it, okay, baby? Make yourself cum on my thigh," he murmured into your ear, nibbling at the lobe before kissing down your neck.

He silently enjoyed the feeling of your skin against him, while also eating up every single noise of unadulterated pleasure coming from your lips. Falling for you more by the second, he lost himself in the moment, entirely investing himself in your person.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Do you have any idea? Any guy would kill to be yours, fuck," he started, laying kisses from your neck to your ear, "Can't believe I'm the only guy to ever get you like this," he marbled.

"Nonu," you sighed at his soft touches, leaning into his kissed and moaning softly every so often.

"God, love this body so much ... Prettiest thing I've ever had," his hands explored your body, dragging your hips so they'd grind into his thigh with even more fervor, "Need you to cum again, pretty. Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me and cum?"

"Y-yes. Nonu, please ..."

"Only for me, right, baby? Only I get to have you like this ..." he practically whined when you nodded, rewarding you with his lips finding your nipples, nibbling at the hard buds and humming any time your moans would vibrate against him.

"Tell me you're mine," he instigated. He knew your mind was half gone in the pleasure of the approach of your third orgasm, but he needed to hear you say it at least once. He needed the fantasy to continue.

"Yours, Nonu. A-always yours ... Make me feel so good, fuck," you gasped, desperately humping into his thigh. He buried his face in your chest with a groan, far too affected by your reciprocation.

Did you mean it? Were you his? He knew it was all done and said in the heat of the passion being shared between you, but he couldn't help but take those words to heart. To save them and treasure them as if they'd been heartfelt.

Fingers tightening into the plush of your hips, he dragged you back and forth on his thigh, reeling at every gasp you let out at the feeling. He continued to wax poetic at you, letting out his most intimate of feelings for you under the vice of the pleasure getting to him.

You dumbly nodded along to every word, reciprocating every so often with a look like Wonwoo hoped was genuine. Falling against his chest, you found your third high of the night, mumbling 'thankyou's' as you kissed at his chest tenderly.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, somehow managing to fall into slumber on Wonwoo's couch, you lying above him while he held you in his arms.

Wonwoo woke up the next day to your absence and a lone sticky note on the coffee table in front of him, clearly a message from you before your departure.

thank u for last night <3 i'll see u on wednesday?

He chuckled at the message, unable to help the butterflies in his stomach at the memory of the night prior and the thought of what was to come. He knew that things would likely stop after Wednesday, – the day in which he'd finally take your virginity – but he decided he'd enjoy you as long as he had you all to himself. Even if there was an expiration date on it.

Surprisingly to Wonwoo, you never showed up on Wednesday, neither did you respond to his messages all through the day. It was common for the two of you to go one or two days without responding to the other, but usually not when you already had plans to meet.

Considering the nature of the plans you had that day, the situation had Wonwoo tremendously worried. It was even worse when he'd consulted other friends and found out you'd been in contact with them, only icing him out.

It was on Thursday that he grew frustrated. With his entire day being taken up by classes, he was unable to even go looking for you. His mind had been on you all day, rendering him unable to pay attention to any of his lectures or even touch any overdue homework that he had. Your silence had only lasted a few days so far, but he was already growing insane because of it.

It wasn't until the following week that he decided to go to you, with no prior warning informing you of his presence at your front door.

As he stood in front of your closed door, hand lifted and ready to knock, he felt absolutely terrified. Last time he had seen you, too many things had happened between you. From the handjob to the eating out to the oral, Wonwoo's mind wad fried with all the intimacy that taken place that day. Had he done too much? Or maybe he had been too obvious about how he felt about you. Regardless of the reason for your sudden silence, he knew it must've been bad.

"Wonwoo?"

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice coming from his left – your voice. You were arriving from some sort of errand it seemed, seeing as you were carrying a large tote bag on each hand as you walked towards your own door.

"Y/N," he somehow managed to stammer your name, gulping at your presence.

You walked past him, opening your door and standing to the side, silently welcoming him in. Apprehensively, he stepped in, hands awkwardly in his pockets and his eyes stagnant on the floor.

Your figure disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments after you'd stepped in, coming back out bagless and standing in front of him in the living room. Wonwoo hadn't bothered to take a seat on your couch, too distracted by the endless thoughts of what was about to come.

"I ... I don't think I want you to take my virginity anymore," you suddenly spoke up, apprehensive in your tone and unable to meet Wonwoo's eyes.

His heart dropped at your words. He felt embarrassed by the tinge of disappointment arising within him, but also scared of what this truly meant for your friendship.

He scrunched up his eyes painfully before responding, finally looking up to look at you, "W-what? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?"

Wonwoo couldn't help but take it personally, heart breaking at just a single sentence.

"It's not that, just ... Fuck, we took this too far, Wonwoo. I thought about everything that happened last time and ... it's too much," you said with regret in your eyes, "I shouldn't have ever asked you for this. I just- I felt like such a loser graduating college and still being a virgin, but I never should've made you do this-"

"You didn't make me do anything," he stepped towards you, wincing when you stepped back, "I ... We don't have to keep going, just ... What changed? Why- why have you been avoiding me?" He needed to know.

You hesitated, looking away and biting your lip with a pained look in your eyes. For a few moments you remained quiet, sniffling occasionally, letting Wonwoo know that you were likely on the verge of crying.

"I can't tell you," you practically whispered.

He had to force himself not to react to your words. The frustration within him was fighting to be let out into the surface. He couldn't deny that his feelings were hurt and that his ego was bruised at how lightly you were taking this. How could he have been the only one to make the mistake of putting his heart in it?

"Do you- do you think it's okay to just-," he tried, swallowing the vile forming in his throat, "How can you ask me to sleep with you and then just ... just ghost me? If you didn't want to keep going, I would've understood, but ... a week? I don't hear from you for a week after- after everything we did?," he mumbled the last part, embarrassed by how quickly he'd gotten emotional.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were going to teach me, and that was it," you started, a pained look in your eyes as they gradually became glassy, "But then, that second time, when we- when-" you cut yourself off, seemingly unable to continue. You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes, "It's better if we just stop here. I don't think we should talk about this," you sniffled.

"Why?", he pushed, "What does this mean for our friendship, then? Am I worth so little to you that you'd want me for sex and then just throw me away when you change your mind?", he took off his glasses momentarily to angrily wipe at the tears forming on his eyes. His anger and sadness were mixing together, creating a combination of emotions that resulted in the mess he felt himself to be.

"Wonwoo, you know it's not like that-"

"Do I? Do I know? Because what it seems to me is like you insisted I take your virginity, changed your mind – which is totally fine, but fuck – and then ghosted me. I thought we were friends- no, best friends. Was it that horrible that you had to ice me out? Are you just going to find some guy on tinder now? Was it- was it the things I said last time?", his tone shifted, unveiling his sadness, "Did I scare you away with everything I said? I- I was just caught in the moment, it didn't," he gulped, vile forming in his throat knowing he was about to deliver a painful lie, "it didn't mean anything."

You swallowed, looking down again and sniffling, "Yeah, I know," you whimpered. Your arms wrapped around yourself, making yourself as small as possible as you stood in front of Wonwoo. It then became evident to Wonwoo that you were attempting to self-soothe. Your eyes were now covered by a layer of tears, making them glassy, much like Wonwoo's.

"Y/N?", he asked.

You looked up, sniffing before connecting your eyes to Wonwoo's.

"Talk to me. Please," he pleaded with saddened eyes.

You mumbled something unintelligible to Wonwoo, making him take a few steps forward to encourage you into speaking.

Placing his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up to look at him, finding tear-stained cheeks and a defeated look on your face.

"I can't understand you, just- just please talk to me," he pleaded once more.

Your eyes continued to not meet his despite your current standing. Taking a deep breath, your hands went up to cup his own, which were still tenderly cupping at your cheeks.

"I like you ..." you started, quietly as you finally made eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed and pained at your own words, "I like you and I couldn't keep going when- when it meant nothing to you. And- and you kept being so nice to me and kissing me and touching me in ways I know meant nothing to you. But I couldn't stop thinking about you and how much what we did has messed with me," you rambled, your voice getting more frantic by the second, "I couldn't even look at you by the end of it all because I was terrified I'd end up telling you how much I-," you swallowed, "how in love with you I am," you admitted, "I never wanted it to get in the way of our friendship, but it all-"

Wonwoo couldn't listen to any more of your rambles before losing his mind at both the pain and irony of your words. His lips invaded your own mid-speech as he swallowed any other words making their way out of your mouth. His hands tightened around your cheeks, only making their way down to your waist when he felt you begin to return his kiss. Moaning in relief into your mouth, he sighed when he felt your tongue use this opportunity to seek his own. Emotions took over him, causing him to lose himself in the kiss, molding himself into you and swallowing every single sigh you let out against his lips.

Feeling the dampness of your tears grace his cheeks made him pull away, remembering the mess of emotions you had been just before he kissed you. The way your lips attempted to follow his own broke his heart, forcing himself to hold back from kissing you until you both lost your breaths. He needed to empty his heart out to you first.

"I love you. I adore you. I'm so fucking obsessed with you, it's been eating me alive," he rasped, lips making their way down your neck, "Felt like shit kissing you and- and touching you when I knew you'd just move on to some dumbass who could never deserve you," he grunted, frustrated at the memory, "How could you ever think I wouldn't love you back when you're so ... so fucking perfect? So made for me," he trailed off. Your sighs were just too distracting for him to deliver the heartfelt speech that had been itching to leave his lips since the day you first kissed.

He pulled away, now staring down into your eyes, hoping his words made it through to you.

"But ... You said you didn't mean it. That it didn't mean anything?", you murmured as he shook his head adamantly in denial.

"I lied," he rasped, "I didn't want you to feel trapped," hands reaching down to your own, he placed them on his chest, "Of course it meant something. Everything I said, I meant. Everything I'm saying right now is true. I love you," he emphasized, "You have to know that I love you," your hand was brought up to his lips, receiving a kiss.

Your eyes somehow watered even more, hiccuping out a gasp before pulling him into you, lips meeting passionately in between. Without any hesitance, he kissed you back, expressing every unsaid word through your meeting of lips. What had started as an exchange of innocent passion soon became a desperate demonstration of love, evolving into moans and sighs swallowed by one another.

Wonwoo felt ashamed by how easy it was for him to fall for his lust for you, but his body craved your own in ways he didn't think possible. Luckily for him, it seemed like you had the same issue, or at least that's the impression he got from how pliant you became in his touch, moans of his name instigating him into kissing and touching more intimately. His lips explored your bare neck, sucking love bites every so often and humming at every sigh leaving your lips.

His purposeful touches became more obvious, reaching down to your ass and up to your mounds to his liking. Your hands ran through his hair, pulling at it any time his touches made you particularly lightheaded. Shockingly to him, you mirrored him, exploring his body with your hands and making your way under his shirt, gracing at his torso.

You had been the first to take things further, grabbing at the end of his shirt and pulling it up. Following your silent request, he threw it off before helping you out of your own. Realizing you had been fully nude under your shirt, he let out a shuddered groan. His lips immediately trailed down to your breasts, practically slobbering all over the sensitive skin while feeding off your cries of his name. Reaching down to the back of your thighs, his hands lifted you up, aided by a small jump from you as you wrapped your legs around him.

Next thing Wonwoo knew, he found himself in your room, laying you on your bed before climbing on top of you and getting back to kissing you.

It was merely impossible to disconnect his lips from you, as your kisses kept drawing him in. He knew you'd been kissed before, but he liked to think that he'd been the first man to ever kiss you in such a way; a way that had you as addicted to him as he was to you.

"Nonu ...," you breathed out in between kisses, "I want you, fuck, please ..."

Wonwoo felt like the world was crashing in on him (in a good way). The groan he roared against your lips couldn't be helped as your words had an instant effect on him.

"A-are you sure?", his frantic eyes searched yours, hands caressing any bit of skin in his reach.

Nodding numbly, you repeated yourself, "Please, Nonu. I want you to be my first. I didn't mean it, I- I want you. I need you, Nonu. Please," you rambled, eyes filled with unrecognizable lust.

He hushed you softly, "Shh, baby. It's okay. I know you didn't mean it," he pecked your lips, "I love you. I'll give it to you, yeah? Gonna fuck you ... Love you so much," he trailed off, attacking your neck with kisses before momentarily getting up to remove his shoes and pants, leaving himself fully nude before you.

You stared back at him, shyly looking him up and down and biting your lip. The look you were giving Wonwoo tested all his self control. He wondered how much longer he could resist you without losing his sanity. But he persisted, having an intimate desire to give you the softest and most mind-blowing first time he possibly could. As much as he wanted to fuck you, his desire to make love to you overrode that need.

Nimble fingers traced down from your breasts to your shorts, dragging them off with the help of a lift of your hips. Along with your shorts went your panties, leaving a slight trail of slick he managed to get sight of before closing any distance between you once more.

Slowly, his fingers made their way to your cunt, rubbing at it softly and drawing a few hiccuped gasps from your lips. Your eyes remained connected, wordless as you communicated your lust to one another. He nuzzled his nose along your cheek, enjoying the intimacy of it all as you breathed into his skin.

"Nonu, fuck me," you whined a few moments later, hands pulling at him to somehow get him closer.

"Baby, I need to get you ready," he coo'd at your desperation.

You shook your head adamantly, "No, just- please. I've wanted you since that first day ... Wanted to break off our deal and have you fuck me since you kissed me," you revealed, wrapping your legs around his waist and attempting to push his hips down to your own.

"Baby ..."

"Please," you pleaded again, "I know you want me too. Fuck me," you murmured into his lips, aware you were breaking his resolve.

And his resolve was completely gone. Unable to hold back further, he kissed you again, readjusting his hips so he could grind against you, wanting to at least get you used to the weight and size of his bare cock before pushing it in.

After kissing you for a minute or so, he pulled back, "Condoms?", he asked in between wet kisses.

You shook your head, insisting he keep kissing you, "I'm on birth control. Just- just fuck me," you insisted again.

Leaning back, Wonwoo grabbed onto the base of his cock, running the tip up and down your swollen cunt, swallowing every gasp you let out at the barely-there stimulation. This only lasted a few moments before beginning to push it in, immediately burying his head in the crook of your neck at the immense pleasure taking over him.

He knew you'd be tight and warm and just fucking perfect for him, but nothing could've predicted how tightly your cunt would engulf him and rob him of his sanity. Every night spent thinking of you and punishing himself for wanting you as badly as he did was finally worth the endless wait to have you. Never did he once imagine that he would actually get to feel you, to have you become his and love him as much as he did you. Yet here he was, cock suffocating between your puffy walls while you gasped out his name.

"Feel so fucking good, angel," he managed to let out, "My beautiful girl ... Cunt's so fucking perfect for me ... Can't even move, baby, it's so tight," he rambled, high off his mind in pleasure.

You fared no better, gasping out nonsensical babbles of his name and digging your nails on his back, dragging them down as you left your mark on him. Your lips attempted to match the movement of his own, giving up when he defeated you in his incessant need to fuck into you.

"Tell me it feels good, baby," he breathed, "T-tell me you love me."

"L-love you so much ... Feel so good, Nonu. Can't- can't think. It's so good," you cried, head thrown back in pleasure.

He grew even more lustful at the mere sound of your broken voice. The knowledge that he was making you feel good beyond comprehension took him to cloud-9, speeding up his hips once you seemed used to the penetration of his cock.

Lifting up your hips, he angled himself perfectly to cant into you, managing to hit that spongy spot inside you that had you shamelessly wailing his name. Your tits bounced with every slap of his hips against your ass, making Wonwoo's eyes roll back at the sight.

But your wails weren't enough for him, he needed you to lose yourself completely, to forget anything that wasn't a mantra of Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. His hand snuck down to your cunt, toying around until he made contact with your swollen clit, rubbing at it with no mercy. Your gasps and screams of his name were his immediate reward whilst Wonwoo drank in the sight of your eyes rolling back.

"N-Nonu ... F-fuck! Need to cum, Nonu, please. I need to cum. Make me cum, Nonu. Please? Need you to cum with me, fuck," you rambled, unaware that he was at the very edge of his orgasm.

Your horny ramblings were enough for him to head face first into his orgasm, pulling you right down with him as his hips lost complete control.

"Cum with me, pretty. Let me fill you up while you cum with me, okay? Let me feel that cunt squeeze me dry ..." he breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as he willed himself to not bust.

That's when your orgasm found you, stealing his sanity as his own followed yours. He let go of your legs and held onto your back, continuing to grind into you as he released inside you. With his face buried in your neck, he murmured love confessions against your skin, mind dizzy with love and lust.

By the end of it, your lips were meeting again, soft and languid kisses shared between you while words of affection were exchanged. After a few moments of this soft exchange, Wonwoo finally disconnected his lips from you, choosing to slip out and lay beside you as he nuzzled against you.

"Was that what you expected?", he asked with a bite of his lip.

"Maybe ..." you were shy in your response, "Might need to try again."

"Oh?," he giggled.

Giggled? Fuck, he was down horribly for you.

"C'mere, let me teach you some more."

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, foreplay, mentions of handjob, face riding, oral (f receiving), mentions of 69'ing, etc.

wc: 727 (teaser); 2317 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Exactly how experienced are you?", you had asked out of the blue during one of your 'dates.'

Having been best friends prior to the whole friends with benefits — but not really — situation led to a very natural transition between friends to lovers. Your current dynamic with one another was exactly the same as before, except now you each shared the privilege of calling the other theirs — and all the extra perks that came with having a significant other.

Currently, you found yourselves in a situation you'd grown entirely too familiar with throughout the years of being best friends — in your apartment as you cuddled up with a movie playing in the background. The grand difference at the moment had been your sudden question, making Wonwoo's heart rate increase drastically at the recollection of all his sexual escapades prior to confessing to you.

It's not like Wonwoo knew you to be a jealous person, but the mere thought of any woman who wasn't you just felt wrong to him after finally making you his. Even as he went through every relationship and fling he ever had, he had never felt a connection with anyone as he did you. Sure, he had had some great sex back in his day, but having been in love with you throughout it all, he knew it would've been impossible for sex to ever be as good with anyone else as it had been with you — the contrast in emotional connection was just too different when it came to you.

And so now he found himself unsure as to how to respond. Would you get jealous? Annoyed? He knew damn well that he'd wanna beat down any loser you'd slept with, but he felt lucky he didn't have to deal with that, having been your one and only thus far — though he still felt an irrational hate towards whichever fucker had taken your first kiss from you. These thoughts were far too irrational, Wonwoo was aware. He knew he was a hypocrite to feel such a way when he was the one who had a past of being a bit liberal when it came to his sex life, which was why he would've preferred to avoid the subject of his past sexual partners in general. It's not like he had a new person warming up his bed on a daily basis, but he had his fair share of girlfriends and occasional one night stand throughout his college days. This was something he'd hate to hear about coming from you, and he wanted to offer the same courtesy to you.

However, looking to you as you uttered the problematic question, he found no trace of negative emotions in your eyes. The question appeared to be born out of mere curiosity, not fabricated to create a rift or any sort of argument.

"I, uh, are you sure you want me to answer that?", was all he could come up with, shuffling on the couch to turn to look at you.

You nodded with a look of wonder in your eyes, "Yeah. I'm just curious."

"Uh," he continued to stammer, "I'm just not sure how to answer the question."

"Well, how many sexual partners have you had? Or, like, is there anything you haven't tried yet?", you mirrored him in his position, still sitting on the couch but now facing him.

The follow up questions were worse than the original one. Wonwoo had no idea of the answer to neither, which appalled him in retrospect. It's not like he kept a tally of every girl he slept with, nor did he have much recollection of every sex position he'd tried in the past — was there anything he had not done at some point?

You must've caught onto the wheels turning in his head, laughing at his expression before elaborating with your questions.

"Okay, shit. Is it upwards of ten?"

"Y-yeah, maybe," — it was probably over twenty, but you didn't need to know that.

"How about my other question? Anything you haven't tried yet?", you showed no reaction to his answer, so he allowed himself to ponder on a response to your second question.

Was there anything he hadn't done? Maybe something he'd fantasized about doing with you? Something he might've saved for the day he finally got the balls to- oh. That's when it hit him.

...

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