#because if someone takes time out of their day to let me know some piece of fiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maddie0101 · 2 days ago

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about damn time pt.1

— based off of THIS request. I hope you like it @anbernen ! ❤︎

summary: you had a normal life, up until an encounter with the impossible nearly killed you. now, your best friend, dean winchester, has pulled back the curtain on what really goes bump in the night. when you finally convince him to take you on a hunt, he gives in. what could possibly go wrong?

warnings: reader had a normal life, protective!dean, worried!dean, best friends to lovers, cute shit, cussing, underlying sexual tension, smut ish? (contains reader & dean taking care of themselves) , pinning, fluff?, nicknames bc it’s dean, lots of tension, probably way more but i suck at tags.

word count: 6.6k

note: this was supposed to be a short little oneshot but if you guys know me then you know how insane I am. yeaah…now it’s a three part mini series :) enjoy!

series masterlist next part

Dean had never been good at making friends.

Sam was always the social one, the kid who could walk into a new school and have a lunch table full of friends by the end of the week.

But Dean? He had people he joked around with, kids he’d nod to in the hallway, maybe the occasional drinking buddy once he got older, but real friends? The kind that stuck? He never let himself have those.

Until you.

He met you in some small town, one of the many places he and Sam passed through, another forgettable stop on their never-ending road trip.

But you weren’t forgettable. Not even close. You were the first girl he ever looked at and thought, Damn. And then, almost immediately thought, Don’t even think about it.

Because somehow, despite all the walls he kept up, despite knowing he’d be gone sooner rather than later, you wormed your way in. You didn’t just laugh at his jokes, you made him laugh, really laugh, the kind that made his ribs ache. You didn’t just tolerate his music, you argued about which Zeppelin song was best. And you didn’t just exist in his world, you carved out a space in it, one that felt so natural, he forgot it hadn’t always been there.

For the first time, Dean had someone who wasn’t family but felt damn close. And he wasn’t about to screw that up.

So yeah, you were drop dead gorgeous and yeah, maybe sometimes he let his eyes linger too long when you weren’t looking. Maybe sometimes his mind wandered into dangerous territory late at night when it was just him and his thoughts.

But friendship? That was something real.

Something he didn’t have to leave behind. And Dean didn’t get to have nice things, but he’d be damned if he let himself ruin this one.

Dean didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, you became his best friend.

It started off slow, stolen afternoons in diners, late-night phone calls, the kind of bond that built itself brick by brick. He couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened, when you’d become his person, but looking back, it felt inevitable. Like gravity.

Whenever he was anywhere remotely close to your small town, he made excuses to swing by. A refuel, a food stop, needing a place to crash—any reason to see you, even if it was just for a few hours.

He told himself it was nothing. Just a friendship. Just a little bit of normalcy in the middle of his chaotic life, but he knew better.

Dean didn’t do normal. And yet somehow, with you, it felt easy.

It was late nights in that little diner off Main Street, the one with the shitty coffee and the old jukebox that never worked right. You’d sit across from him, stirring too much sugar into your cup while he ate a piece of pie, and you’d talk for hours.

You’d tell him about your day, about the things you wanted out of life. Sometimes he’d tell you about his too—leaving out the monsters, of course. He told you about the road, the places he’d been, the things he’d seen. He spun half-truths, made his life sound like some endless road trip instead of the bloody war it really was.

Because you weren’t supposed to know that part of him. He wanted to keep you separate from it, untangled from the darkness that followed him. So he never told you the truth. Never let you too close.

But the thing was—You already were close.

It was the late-night phone calls when he was too wired to sleep after a hunt. He’d call just to hear your voice, just to feel something real on the other end of the line. You’d answer every time, no matter how late, your voice groggy but warm.

“Dean? You okay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just… wanted to talk.”

And you would. About everything and nothing. Until his pulse settled, until the world didn’t feel so heavy. It was the way you always knew when something was off.

“Where are you?” you’d ask, suspicion laced in your voice when he was being too vague about where he’d been.

“Oh, you know. Here. There. The usual.”

“Uh-huh. That’s not an answer, Winchester.”

You were relentless, prying without even knowing it, but he loved that about you. It meant you cared. And god help him, he liked being cared about. It was the fact that, without even trying, you’d become the one person he couldn’t stay away from.

And maybe, just maybe—he didn’t want to stay away.

So he kept coming back. Kept sneaking away to see you, calling when he couldn’t. You had no idea how deep he was in it, how badly he wanted to tell you the truth—how many times he almost had. But every time he thought about it, all he saw was you getting hurt.

So he kept lying, pretending. Because with you, he didn’t have to be Dean Winchester, the hunter.

He could just be Dean.

But not all good things last forever. Especially not for Dean.

For a while, it had almost felt too easy—sneaking into your little town, slipping into your life like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t just a drifter passing through. He let himself believe, even if just for a little while, that this could last. That you were safe. That the world he lived in, the nightmares he fought, wouldn’t touch you. But monsters didn’t give a damn about what he wanted. And one night, everything changed.

It started with a phone call. His phone buzzed against the cheap motel nightstand, the sound barely cutting through the quiet hum of late-night TV. Dean almost ignored it—he was tired, had been driving for hours, and the last thing he wanted was another case dropping in his lap.

But when he saw your name flashing on the screen, something in his chest tightened.

You never called this late.

The second he answered, he knew something was wrong. There was no teasing remark, no easy “Hey, Winchester” to greet him. Just heavy breathing and the faintest shake in your voice when you said, “Dean?”

He sat up immediately, muscles tensing. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

Then, in a panicked rush, you told him. About the thing that had broken into your apartment. How it had your face. How it moved like you, talked like you—how for a split second, you thought you were losing your damn mind.

Dean was already yanking on his boots, keys clutched tight in his fist. “It’s a shifter,” he said, forcing his voice to stay steady. He needed you calm. Needed you alive. “Listen to me. Do you have anything silver?”

A rustling noise sounded from the phone's speaker. Then, “I—I think. There’s a necklace in my dresser—”

“Not good enough. You need a weapon.”

“Dean, it’s coming.” He heard it then—a noise in the background, the sound of something moving, the faintest creak of floorboards. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Get a knife, anything,” he ordered. “Aim for the heart, go for the kill shot. Don’t hesitate.”

“Dean, I—”

The line went dead and Dean's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. “Shit.”

Dean was out the door before he could think, speeding through the dark streets, his heart hammering against his ribs. The entire drive, all he could think about was getting to you in time.

But when he got there—He was too late.

Not too late, not in the way that mattered most, but—The door to your apartment was wide open.

Dean barely registered the sound of his own boots pounding against the floor as he rushed inside, gun drawn, instincts screaming. He had played out worst-case scenarios the entire drive over—found you dead, found you gone, found whatever thing had come for you still standing over your body, smirking in the way only monsters could.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

You stood in the middle of your living room, drenched in blood.

It was everywhere—splattered across your face, streaked down your arms, soaking into the fabric of your shirt. The knife in your trembling grip dripped with something dark and wet, forming a thick pool on the hardwood floor beneath you.

And at your feet was the body—the fucking body.

It was wrong. Twisted. A half-shifted mockery of you. Your own face, but not. The features warped and melting, frozen mid-transition as if the thing had died trying to wear you like a second skin.

Dean’s stomach dropped.

You weren’t just shaking. You were trembling. Your breath came in short, erratic gasps—eyes blown wide, wild, as if you couldn’t quite process what you were looking at. Or maybe, more terrifyingly, that you could.

You swallowed thickly, eyes locking onto his. Your voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and broken “What the fuck was that thing?”

Dean’s grip on his gun tightened. He had been too late. Not too late, not in the way that mattered most, but—fuck. You weren’t supposed to see this. You weren’t supposed to live this.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you stared down at the body like if you looked long enough, maybe it would make sense. Like if you blinked, it would disappear, and you could wake up from this nightmare.

But it didn’t. And you wouldn’t.

Dean took a careful step closer. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, steady, the way he would talk someone off a ledge. Because that’s where you were right now, teetering at the edge of something dark and sharp and permanent. “You with me?”

You let out a shuddering breath, barely nodding.

But you weren’t, not really. He could see it now—the thousand-yard stare, the way your fingers clenched and unclenched around the knife like you still weren’t sure if you needed to fight for your life. The way you stood, knees locked, barely breathing, as if one wrong move might break you.

It had been self-defense. It had to be.

But that didn’t mean it hadn’t fucked you up. Killing something was one thing. Killing something that wore your face? That was a whole different kind of horror.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself, but when you lifted your hands, your gaze snagged on the blood. Not the shifter’s. Your own.

A jagged gash ran along your forearm—shallow, but deep enough that the crimson dripped in slow, fat droplets down to your fingertips. You flexed your fingers, watching them move like they weren’t even yours. Like you weren’t sure if you were still real.

Then, barely above a whisper, your voice cracked “It said something about how I’m connected to the Winchesters now.” You swallowed hard. “What does that mean?” Your voice wavered, still raw, still shell-shocked. “And how did you know how to kill it?”

Dean froze. The words settled like lead in his chest, heavier than they should’ve been. He didn’t let things get personal. He didn’t let people get close.

But you? You had slipped past every wall he had without even trying. And now, something had noticed.

His jaw clenched, a slow, creeping anger coiling under his skin like something toxic. Not at you. Never at you.

At them. At whatever son of a bitch had set its sights on you. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn't let you become another name to carve into his ribs, another ghost to carry.

Which meant you only had one option. Dean exhaled, voice tight. “Pack a bag.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Dean—”

“No arguments.” The words came sharper than he intended, but he needed you to listen. Needed you to understand that this wasn’t up for debate. “If something out there knows your name—knows me—you’re not staying here.”

You hesitated, glancing around—at the blood, the wreckage, the body still caught between stolen faces. The realization settled in your expression, something raw and shaken but understanding.

Your life, as you knew it, was over.

There was no going back.

And when you finally nodded, Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Because from this moment on, whether you liked it or not—You were in this life.

And he wasn’t about to let anything take you from it.

The bunker was a freaking labyrinth.

From the moment Dean led you inside, duffel slung over his shoulder, exhaustion written all over his face, you felt like you’d stepped into another world. The place was massive—high-arched ceilings, endless hallways, dim overhead lighting that flickered just enough to make the shadows stretch long. It smelled like old books and gun oil, metal and dust.

And it was quiet. Unnervingly so.

Dean tossed his bag onto a table in what he called the war room—a massive space with an old map of the world lit up across the table, covered in notes, scribbles, and markings you didn’t understand.

“Sit,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. He didn’t sound tired anymore. If anything, his voice had that clipped, serious edge you weren’t used to, like he was preparing to lay something heavy on you. Which, as you were quickly learning, was exactly what was about to happen.

And so, for the next two hours, you got the crash course on what the hell Dean Winchester really did for a living. He didn’t sugarcoat it at all. He told you everything. The good, the bad, the ugly.

That monsters were real, actually, fucking real. That the thing you killed in your apartment? A shapeshifter. That there were demons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, witches, things that went bump in the night that you weren’t supposed to know about. And angels. That was the one that almost made you laugh. “You’re shitting me.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Wish I was.”

Your head spun. You wanted to call bullshit, wanted to believe that this was some sick prank or a fever dream or something that would make sense in the morning.

But it wasn’t. Because you had already seen it. You had watched a creature with your your face shift try to kill you. You had stabbed a fucking thing in the heart with a silver knife and watched it die, twitching at your feet like a broken machine.

And now, you were sitting in a secret underground bunker, hearing about how this was Dean’s life.

It took a while for it to sink in, honestly. But once it did, you realized something else—this was your life now, too.

At first, you kept busy. You had to, or your own thoughts would eat you alive.

Sam was more than happy to dump research on you, burying you in lore books, faded manuscripts, and half-legible scribbles from old hunters long dead. He taught you how to read Latin, how to dig through old archives for the weirdest shit imaginable, how to trace supernatural patterns in a way you never would’ve noticed before.

But Dean? Dean was different. He had other plans.

“You’re not just gonna sit around playing librarian all day,” he told you one afternoon, his voice casual, but his expression anything but. Before you could ask what he meant, something came flying toward you.

Your hands shot up on instinct, fingers fumbling around the object before you finally got a grip on it. A second passed before you looked down, realization settling in.

A wooden practice knife. You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he echoed, arms crossed over his chest. “If something comes after you again, I want you to be able to defend yourself properly.”

There was no arguing with that look—the one that told you he had already made up his mind.

And so, Dean trained you. You hated him for it at first because he didn’t go easy on you. Not even for a damn second.

The first time you squared up with him, he didn’t even hesitate. One moment, you were gripping the knife, determined to prove yourself, and the next—you were flat on your back, the wind knocked clean out of you.

Dean towered over you, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I’m not a real monster. You’d be dead already.”

You groaned, staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe just kill me now.”

But he didn’t let you quit. He made you throw punches until your knuckles ached, made you dodge and block until your muscles burned, made you repeat the same damn moves over and over again until you got them right.

“You’re thinking too much,” he told you after you failed to land a hit for the third time in a row.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you snapped, breathing hard, sweat sticking to your skin.

Dean smirked. “Cute.”

God, that look he gave you—the cocky, infuriating, hot as hell smirk that made you want to punch him in the face just to wipe it off. He was all rough hands and sharp words, pushing you harder every day.

You weren’t the worst student he’d ever had, but still, he had no idea how the hell you’d managed to take down that shifter on your own. Luck? Instinct?

Either way, it wasn’t good enough.

And you could feel it—the tension thickening between you both with every training session. The way your bodies moved around each other, the way your breath mixed as you dodged each blow, the way he would grab your wrist, pulling you flush against him when you got too sloppy.

One afternoon, he had you pinned against the wall, his forearm pressed against your collarbone, holding you still. Your chest rose and fell against his, breathless, your skin burning where he touched you. “You keep dropping your left side,” he murmured, voice low, rough.

You swallowed hard, staring up at him. “I know.”

His eyes flickered to your lips—so fast you almost missed it, almost. But then, just as quickly, he was gone, stepping back, that damn smirk back in place. “Then stop doing it.”

That night, you spent an embarrassing amount of time lying awake, thinking about the way he had looked at you.

The boredom was killing you. And at first, it wasn’t so bad.

The bunker was massive, filled with books older than your grandparents, weapons you weren’t even allowed to touch without supervision, and endless hallways that you swore led to nowhere. You had training to focus on, bruises to ice, whiskey to steal from Dean’s stash when he wasn’t looking.

But ready or not, boredom came creeping in like a goddamn sickness. Because every time Sam and Dean left for a hunt, you were stuck. Alone.

The first few times, you didn’t mind. It was kind of nice, actually. Peaceful. You could sprawl out on the war room table, pick up one of those dusty old lore books, and pretend you weren’t completely out of your depth in this life. You started teaching yourself different languages, then flipping through pages of exorcisms just to pass the time. You memorized sigils and symbols, even started picking up bits and pieces of other languages such as Enochian, ancient Sumerian, shit you’d probably never even use.

But after a while, the silence got to you. The bunker was too big, too still. With no goddamn windows, no way to tell if it was day or night without checking the old clock on the wall. You used to love having all this space to yourself, but now? Now it felt like the walls were closing in. Like you were rotting down here, waiting for something to happen.

So you cleaned-- And cleaned--And cleaned some more. Until every single room in the bunker was spotless. Until you’d done all the laundry—yours, Sam’s, and Dean’s, just for something to do. You even took the time to fold their clothes because, let’s be honest, those two were a freaking mess.

You weren’t looking for them, honestly.

It wasn’t like you set out to dig through Dean’s stuff with the intent of uncovering his most embarrassing secrets. You were just trying to be nice—helpful even. Laundry was one of the only things keeping you sane while the guys were gone. It gave you a purpose, something to do.

But this? This was a fucking goldmine.

You held up the offending fabric, eyes widening in absolute horror before the laughter burst out of you, uncontrollable and borderline manic.

Dean Winchester, the badass hunter, feared by demons, monsters, and even some angels—owned underwear covered with hot dogs.

Your stomach hurt from how hard you were laughing, tears actually pricking at your eyes. And just when you thought you could breathe again, you reached back into the laundry pile and—Oh, oh, it got better.

Bright red socks, obnoxious and ridiculous, with the words 'SEND NOODS' printed across them in bold white letters. And the kicker? They had little cartoon ramen noodles on them.

You actually had to sit down on Dean’s bed to take a second and regain your breath.

Because of course this was Dean. Tough, rugged, walks-like-he-owns-the-room Dean, the man who could kill a monster without breaking a sweat, but who also shoved extra packets of hot sauce into his pockets every time you got takeout because he might need them later.

The same Dean who grumbled about bad movie plots but still secretly loved them, the same Dean who would throw a flirty wink at a waitress and then turn around and give his leftovers to a stray dog outside.

He was a contradiction. A mess of sharp edges and soft spots, of cocky grins and stupid jokes mixed with genuine, heart-wrenching moments of kindness.

And you loved him for it.

The realization had hit you like a truck. Dean wasn’t just your best friend. He wasn’t just the guy who had saved you, who had trained you, who had made sure you weren’t alone in this life.

He was the man you wanted.

And not just in the sweet, romantic, oh, let’s go on a date and hold hands kind of way.

No. It was the kind of want that made your skin burn, that kept you up at night with images of him pressed against you, mouth hot and claiming, hands gripping your waist like he needed you.

And it wasn’t just a one-time thing either.

It was constant.

Like when he walked around in nothing but a towel, fresh from the shower, water still dripping down his broad shoulders, the scent of his soap—god, that soap, clinging to the air.

Or when he leaned over you at the library table, arm brushing yours, voice low and gruff in your ear as he pointed something out in the lore book, and you had to physically stop yourself from turning your head just to get a whiff of his damn cologne.

And then there were the moments that really tested your willpower.

Like when Dean was working on the Impala. God help you, when Dean was working on Baby.

It shouldn’t have been so mesmerizing, shouldn’t have made your mouth go dry or your stomach twist into knots. But damn if it didn’t.

There he was, under the hood, sleeves pushed up, exposing those strong forearms—the ones you’d stared at countless times and never got tired of. The muscles in his back flexed beneath his Henley as he leaned over, hands expertly twisting a wrench, brows furrowed in concentration.

And then there was the grease. Smudged across his forearm, streaked along his jaw, a little bit on his cheek. It shouldn’t have been hot, but it was.

You swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck as you watched him, completely entranced. You tried to be subtle about it, really, you did. But your thighs pressed together on instinct, trying, failing to find some kind of relief.

Dean had always been a gorgeous man. That was just a fact. His sharp jawline, the freckles dusting his nose, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And that voice—gravelly and rough, especially in the mornings or when he was pissed off.

You’d always been attracted to him, but it had been manageable. A quiet, buried thing. At least, it had been. Because lately? Lately, it was getting bad. Like the time he caught you blushing—really blushing.

It was nothing, just a stupid little moment in the kitchen. You were making coffee, minding your own business, when Dean strolled in, half-awake, wearing nothing but his boxers. He yawned, stretched his arms above his head, his abs tightening, that faint happy trail disappearing beneath the waistband.

Your eyes snapped away, cheeks on fire, and you could feel his smirk before he even said a word.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” His voice was still thick with sleep, rougher than usual.

“Nope.” You turned your attention back to the coffee pot, praying to whoever that he wouldn’t press it.

But of course, this was Dean. He stepped up beside you, close enough that his body heat was noticeable, close enough that his scent—leather, whiskey, and oil wrapped around you like a goddamn trap.

“You sure? ‘Cause you’re lookin’ a little pink there.”

You scowled, keeping your eyes firmly on the coffee. “It’s warm in here.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Stupid smug bastard. You rolled your eyes.

But that was nothing compared to the other time. The time he really, really pushed you over the edge.

It was late. You were both in the library, going over lore books. Nothing exciting, just another normal night. And then—he did it. Completely unintentional, completely innocent.

He was leaning back in his chair, flipping through a book, and at some point, he rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms behind his head, muscles shifting beneath his Henley. And then he let out this low, satisfied groan.

And that was it. Game over. A pulse of heat shot straight to your core so fast it actually took your breath away. You squeezed your thighs together hard, trying to curb the ache, trying to breathe, but it didn’t help. It didn’t do anything.

Thankfully, Dean didn't notice. He just kept reading, oblivious to the fact that he had just wrecked you.

You barely made it to your room before you lost it.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, heart hammering, breath shallow. The heat pooling in your belly was impossible to ignore, the ache between your thighs maddening.

Jesus Christ. Dean Winchester was going to ruin you.

You swallowed, chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But it was useless. The second you closed your eyes, all you saw was him from that time you watched him work on Baby.

The grease smudged across his fingers, the way his biceps flexed as he worked on Baby, the sweat rolling down his neck in the heat of the garage. That sharp, smug smirk when he caught you staring too long. The way his voice roughened when he was exhausted, dropping into a low, gravelly drawl that sent a shiver down your spine.

If he ever figured it out, he’d destroy you.

A quiet, frustrated sigh left your lips as you squeezed your thighs together, but it wasn’t enough. The pressure only made it worse.

Your fingers moved before you could think, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. The first touch sent a shudder through you, an exhale leaving your lips as your body immediately reacted. But it wasn’t your own hand you were imagining.

It was his.

Calloused fingers skimming over your skin, teasing you, dragging over your sensitive flesh like he had all the time in the world. “Look at you,” his voice rasped in your head, the deep, husky tone laced with something dark, something possessive. “Knew you’d be sweet for me.”

Your breath hitched as your fingers moved faster, chasing the phantom sensation of his touch.

Dean, pressing you up against the Impala, his hands gripping your hips, pinning you there. His breath ghosting against your neck before his teeth scraped against your pulse. Your other hand clutched the fabric of your shirt, nails digging in as the pleasure built.

“Tell me how bad you want it, sweetheart.”

A quiet whimper slipped from your lips as you imagined him, imagined those same rough hands holding you down, spreading you open, teasing you until you were trembling, begging—And God, you would beg.

Your back arched, the pleasure coiling tighter, your body wound so tight you thought you might snap—

“Dean—” His name left your lips in a ragged gasp as you unraveled, waves of heat crashing over you. Your muscles tensed, thighs shaking, your own hand barely enough, because fuck, you knew nothing would ever compare to the real thing.

You stood there for a moment, skin flushed, heart still pounding. But as the high faded, another thought settled heavily in your chest.

This wasn’t just lust. Wasn’t just some reckless attraction. You didn’t just want Dean Winchester.

You were in love with him. Hopelessly, dangerously, in love with him. And if you weren’t careful? You were going to get burned.

But even that wasn’t enough to keep the boredom away. After all the cleaning, the laundry, the books, the languages—you had nothing left.

And it wasn’t just boredom anymore. It was loneliness. The bunker was too damn quiet without them. No sarcastic remarks from Dean, no long-winded research rants from Sam, no arguments over what food to order.

Just you. You wanted out. Wanted more.

And so, one night, as Dean was packing up his duffel, getting ready for another job, you finally snapped “I’m coming with you.”

Dean didn’t even look up. “No, you’re not.”

Your hands curled into fists. “Dean.”

He sighed, zipping his bag before finally turning to face you. “Look, I get it. You’re sick of being cooped up. You want to do something. But hunting isn’t a goddamn road trip, sweetheart.”

“I know that,” you shot back. “You think I haven’t been paying attention? I’ve trained. I know how to handle myself.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “It’s not the same.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “How the hell would you know? You never let me come.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a second, something flickered across his face, annoyance, maybe? or something deeper, something more hesitant. “Because it’s dangerous.”

“So is staying in the bunker and losing my mind,” you shot back. “I’ve been stuck down here for months, Dean. I research, I train, I do everything you ask—but I have no idea what it’s actually like out there. I want to see what you do. I want to understand it. And I want to understand you.”

That made him freeze.

It wasn’t the argument he was expecting. He was used to hearing, I can handle myself, or I just want to be useful, but this? You weren’t just asking to hunt. You were asking to know him.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Dean swallowed hard, running a hand over his jaw as he turned away, pretending to busy himself with his duffel bag. He needed to shut this down, fast. You had no idea what you were asking for.

“Look, I get it,” he muttered. “The bunker’s boring. But this life? It’s not what you think it is.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think it’s glamorous, Dean. I know it’s brutal. I’ve seen the aftermath, I’ve seen you come back with bruises and stitches and that dead look in your eyes. But that’s exactly why I want to go. Because I feel like I only know part of you. I see the guy who fixes cars and drinks shitty beer and argues with Sam about movie references—but I don’t know the hunter. And if I’m going to be part of this world now, I want to understand all of you.”

His stomach twisted. Because you already did know him. You knew him better than almost anyone. And maybe that was the real problem.

Dean had spent years forcing himself to keep his distance, making sure he never let anything slip.

But it was getting harder.

Every damn day, it got harder. Because the real truth? He didn’t just love you. He was in love with you.

It had started as something small—just admiration, just attraction. But then it grew, creeping into every part of him, sinking its claws deep. You were the only person, besides Sam, who made him feel like he wasn’t just some soldier marching toward an inevitable end.

And the worst part? You had no fucking clue.

Dean couldn’t risk telling you. Couldn’t risk ruining what you had. So instead, he locked it down, buried it beneath sarcasm and forced nonchalance, kept his hands to himself even when he ached to pull you close.

Sure, hunting was hell. Dean had been through it all—bloody fights with creatures that could tear him apart, near-death experiences more times than he could count, nights spent in shitty motel rooms with nothing but whiskey and nightmares for company.

But the bunker? Christ, it was torture now.

There was nowhere to hide from you. No distance to put between himself and the way you unknowingly drove him out of his goddamn mind. You had no clue. No fucking idea what you did to him.

It was the little things, the casual, effortless way you existed in his space, like you belonged there. Like you’d always belonged there.

The way you walked around in his shirts sometimes—shit you probably didn’t even think twice about. But Dean did, he thought about it constantly.

Because his shirts swallowed you up, the fabric hanging loose off your shoulders, barely covering your ass, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to stare. Not to imagine what it would be like if you were wearing nothing underneath, if he could just slide his hands up those bare thighs and fuck you senseless.

Fuck.

And then there was the stretching. It wasn’t even intentional, wasn’t like you were trying to kill him, but fuck if it didn’t wreck him. Like when you’d wander into the kitchen first thing in the morning, hair a mess, still sleepy-eyed, and reach your arms over your head in a slow, lazy stretch that had your back arching just right.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst was when you’d yawn, soft and content, lips parted slightly, making these little noises that sent Dean’s brain straight into the gutter. Because all he could think about was how you’d sound if he had you underneath him—if he was pulling those sounds from your lips himself.

And if that weren't enough, thats when the heat would settle low in his stomach, spreading like wildfire, and before he could even think about stopping it—bam. Instant boner.

But then came the real problem, hiding it. Which was a hell of a lot harder than it should’ve been.

Like the time you flopped down next to him at the kitchen table, stretching with a soft groan, and he nearly choked on his coffee because holy shit, that sound went straight to his dick. He’d had to shift in his seat, subtly adjust himself under the table, and pray to every goddamn angel in existence that you didn’t notice.

Or the time you asked him to pass you something from the top shelf, and when you reached up to grab it, your body brushed against his, just barely, but fuck—he had to back up so fast he nearly knocked over a chair.

And then there was the absolute worst moment.

The time you hugged him. You’d been in a good mood about something, probably after kicking his ass at poker and you just threw your arms around him, squeezing tight, your body pressed right up against his.

And Dean? He fucking froze. Because all he could think about was how warm you were, how you fit against him perfectly, how easy it would be to slide his hands down, grip your hips, pull you in even closer—

And then it happened again. Another traitorous, fucking boner. Dean had never panicked so hard in his life. He patted your back stiffly, pulled away before you could notice, and immediately sat down at the nearest table, praying you wouldn’t ask why he suddenly had to stay seated.

Jesus Christ, he was a mess.

And it wasn’t just the physical frustration—it was you. It was the way you felt like home. The way you didn’t even realize you’d completely wrecked him.

And the worst part? He didn’t think he’d ever stop wanting you. He’d have to force himself to look away, think about something else, anything else, but it never worked.

And that’s how he found himself here. In the shower, water scalding hot, one hand braced against the tile while the other wrapped around his painfully hard cock. He bit down on his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and let the images take over.

You, sprawled out on his bed, looking up at him with those wide, teasing eyes. You, wearing his damn shirt, nothing underneath, your skin soft and warm as he slid his hands underneath the fabric.

You, gasping his name as he finally got his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting—

A deep, guttural groan ripped from his throat as he came, pleasure crashing through him so hard his knees nearly buckled. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, forehead pressed against the cool tile.

And then, like always, came the guilt. Because you weren’t his and you had no idea how fucking badly he wanted you to be.

But then there was Sam. And Sam, Dean's annoying little brother? He saw everything.

“Dude,” he’d said once, shaking his head as they packed up for a hunt. “You’re pathetic.”

Dean scowled. “Excuse me?”

Sam just grinned, tossing a knife into his bag. “You gonna tell her, or you just gonna keep sighing longingly every time she walks by?”

“Shut up.”

But Sam didn’t shut up. Ever. Especially not when Dean constantly checked his phone on hunts. The moment he and Sam rolled into a new town, Dean was texting you, calling you, making sure you were okay.

Sam would tease him relentlessly. “You just talked to her an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re like a clingy boyfriend.”

“Eat a dick, Sammy.”

But Sam wasn’t wrong. And now you were standing in front of him, looking at him like he was some goddamn puzzle you were trying to solve, and it was taking everything in him not to crack.

Because you wouldn’t let this go. You were relentless, you'd bring it up every damn day, and the more you would push, the weaker his resolve would get.

But the worst part about it all? You were right. You should see all aspects of him. If you were really going to be part of this life, you needed to understand it.

That didn’t make it any easier but Dean let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine.”

You blinked. “What?”

“One hunt,” he said, meeting your gaze. “Just one. No arguments.”

A triumphant grin spread across your face as Dean groaned. “I already regret this.” But so did his gut because something about this felt wrong, and it was too late now.

series masterlist next part

author’s note:

let’s say it in unison now, maddie is fucking insane! lmfaooooo. I honestly just kept thinking of more stuff to write and before I knew it I had an 11k fic sitting right infront of my face. I didn’t want to make the ‘oneshot’ too long so I decided to split it up into three parts, hence the ‘mini series’ :)

also, special thanks to @aylacavebear for helping me with this little mini series. I don’t know what I’d do without you!

I really hope you like it @anbernen ! if you don’t like smut you can always skip the third part :) I just felt like this story needed a little smut so I went ahead and wrote it lmfao. hehe, enjoy! ❤︎

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @exansation @darkrose064 @megara0224 @saturnsooya @miss-marmalade (lmk if I’ve missed anyone or if you’d like to be taken off the list) btw I apologize for the small spam..

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

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nana-luvy · 2 days ago

Text

I'm just supposed to stand there and do nothing ?

Installment of the Mine series

warnings: fluff + angst, playboy!Luke, fem!reader, daughter of Athena!reader, swearing (woops maybe a lot more this time), arguing/fighting

Because you swore the gods were in on making a player appear like a knight in shining armor, and you weren't having it.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

As loud clatter erupted from the other side of the crowded Dining pavilion, Luke raised his head from his plate, mouth stuffed with salad, in direction of the sound. Pieces of a plate were scattered on the marble tiles, and a commotion could be heard among the dish pieces.

“What the fuck are you on, Gale ? Why would I do that in any fucking world ?”

Was that your voice ?

“Stop denying, I know it’s you!” an angry voice shouted back, biting.

“You’re the only reason for your own demise, Gal-”

“You took your little sister’s cap and cheated!”

Your exasperated sigh could be heard from Luke’s place, his ears attentive as he tried to get the situation right. What could you have possibly done for that son of Ares to be so onto you ?

“I did not cheat, you fucking dumbass!” You snapped, any nerves you’d gotten back scurrying away for your annoyance to scream out. “It’s not my fault you’re stupid enough to take a piss mid Capture the Flag fucking game!” The boy was silent for a moment from what Luke could hear, but the growing whispers kept his attention trained to the scene he couldn’t even see.

Around him, at the Hermes cabin’s table, glances were exchanged about his odd behavior, stopping right in the middle of his sacred meal session, and even more once Luke fully got up from the stone-looking bench and started weaving his way through the crowd.

“Wow,” the child of Ares started, trying to put on some semblance of an act. “I can’t believe you’d go put your lies out there like that, you fucking maniac-”

“What lies, Gale ? I don’t need cheating to win, even though it might be a concept you’re not familiar with since you went against the rules last time to catch our flag ?” Your eyebrow raised accusingly to match the look in your eyes, the first sight of you Luke had seen since you’d made it your life’s purpose to avoid him. And damn did his knees feel weak. “I distinctly remember unnecessary blood being shed on the beach las-”

“Shut up, nerd!” the blond boy in front of you thundered, all eyes turning back to him. “I don’t know what’s holding me back…”

And despite his best— or at least he tells himself so —effort to stay out of it, Luke immediately stepped in when the other boy threateningly walked closer to you. His hand shot to your wrist, moving you behind his back to shield you from Gale apparent and uncontrolled fury, and it didn’t leave it, subconsciously savoring the warmth of the contact he didn’t know he was starving for.

“Hey, back the fuck off, Goldilocks,” Luke simply said, his tone controlled as he used his free hand to push flat on Gale’s chest and keep him away.

For a second there, you were too stunned to fight back, like split between a lot of conflicting feelings. Because, even though you would’ve stood your ground all the way, you had to admit standing up to someone a foot bigger than you and way broader had some kind of bitter apprehension to it. And if you would never say it out loud, you were deep down comforted by Luke’s presence in this instant, your hand in his grasp shooting to clutch the hem of his shirt as you tensed hearing more barked out threats from the other side of the orange wall blocking your view.

“I think it’s time you go about your day, buddy.”

Your head was still ducked behind Luke’s shoulder when you heard an annoyed grunt from the other boy. “Whatever, Castellan, she’s not worth the damn trouble anyway…” he trailed, before eventually turning around and leaving the dining area, his minions following suit.

Your hand quickly let go of the stretchy fabric, still tightly held by the wrist as Luke tugged you away from the crowd and down the side of the stone pavilion.

“Let go of me…” you started, maybe a little soft compared to the overwhelming storm raging inside you. But why this storm, you wondered, what was making you feel so conflicted, now that you were out of any trouble ? What was making your heartbeat quicken, creating this thin layer of sweat at the back of your neck and making your fingers tremble slightly ?

“What?” The boy finally turned as he stopped in his tracks, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his eyes scanning over you to make sure you were alright.

“I said get off me!”

Your voice raised without warning, a shrill sound you didn’t mean to seem so weak and wounded, and it took Luke slightly off guard, taking a step back and letting go of you instantly. “Wow, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden ?”

But your mind was one-tracked in this moment, you didn’t care for his questions. “Why did you help me ? I didn’t need help, and certainly not your intervention.”

“Yeah? To me you seemed pretty glad I stepped in,” he flatly answered, absentmindedly rubbing his hands together like trying to recreate the feeling of his skin on yours. It was weird, considering holding your wrist was a far less intimate gesture than ones you’d had before, but it held something, to him at least.

“Well, open your ears real good, big guy, I don’t need you to jump in when I seem in trouble, okay? I can do great on my own.”

“What am I supposed to do then? Stand there and do nothing? By the gods, why are you so angry over this ? It’s fucking pointless,” he asked, genuinely confused, his eyebrows frowned and mouth agape to prove it.

“Because you don’t care!” you eventually snapped, making him step back again and back into a column. “You don’t care and you still do this. Not a single cell in your body cares, and you still act like you do because you know it’s gonna get you what you want in the end.” Your finger was accusatory as you pointed it his way, stepping forward to press your nail right into his chest, on your tip toes to be eye-level, anger burning in your gaze. “Guess what? I’m fed up, keep your mask of kind, glorious golden boy for yourself and get out of my sight! Didn’t you have enough already?”

Was it anger ? Or hurt ? Luke couldn’t tell, but what he could tell was that he preferred you smiling over anything else, and your eyes were burning into his very uncomfortably. How did he end up here again ?

“Don't cross my way, thank you…” you emphasized, before turning around and walking away, your steps stiff.

The son of Hermes only allowed himself a deep breath once you were out of his sight, sliding down the grey column running a hand over his face.

“Way to fuck things up…”

Okkkkkk only one left whaaaaat ? I'm not ready (i don't know how it's gonna end btw.)

Btw it's actually insane that so much people enjoy this like wdym people read what i write now... Love your support <3

- Love, Nana

taglist. @spider-ghoul @cas-planet @smileysunshinesworld @mlbmarichat13 @makinbananapancakes @imafuckinstar @emotiandon @mgg55lovr @kisscastellan

#nana's mind ━☆#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #nana's thoughts #pjo series #luke castellan x you #fanfiction #charlie bushnell #imagine #oneshot #nana's series #pjo luke castellan #luke castellan

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localwebslingers · 21 hours ago

Text

Little by little, Harry looked less and less okay and Peter wished he could do something to try and make it easier. Make it feel just the slightest bit better than it looked like it did, because he didn't need the same kind of heightened instincts to immediately notice the second the first cracks started showing in Harry's composure and mask. Watched the little pieces of it fall away and for a second time, and probably only the second of many more to come, Peter wished there wasn't technically an audience for this. That the cameras would give some privacy or just shut down all together as they sat there and he fell quiet. Trying to get himself pulled back together and calm down. That was what Harry needed from him right now, for him to try and stay calm.

As badly as Peter wished he could do more than just that.

The question that Harry countered with wasn't answered quickly either, it wasn't one that should be. It was a good question, a reasonable one and the kind that would scare anyone to think about. Would terrify them and shake them as bad as Harry looked now. Peter was quiet and thought before saying softly, "Then I'm going to get to know him too, as many days as it takes." he paused a moment, "But you should know even if you don't remember it, or realize it, I already see stuff that I've seen are you. That I know and recognize are the same you that you were before this. It's not just remembering things, or knowing some secret right answer to something, it's-..." how did he explain this? How did Peter possibly explain that even with the amnesia he could still see those glimpses of the things he was familiar with and knew. The things that had been from all those years Harry was missing.

He bit his lip, gave the barest hint of a frown, and shifted in his seat, "...why are you staying in there?" it was a question, not an accusation, and Peter waited a moment before going on, gesturing to the door next to him, "You opened that from your side to get the bag, it's not locked. Not on this side not on yours. You could leave here at any second, right? So why are you still in there...why are you choosing to stay in there right now? Because I have a guess what it might be...do you?" not because doctors told him to, or because Norman did. Not to be observed and monitored and have any possible exams done. If Peter had to guess, it was the same reason Harry locked himself away before. He could hurt someone, he didn't want to hurt someone, and staying away from people was the best way to do that right now.

"....that, is you." he pointed over to the mess of papers and notes cluttering the desk, "That, is you, Harry. What you were just doing, just a few seconds ago," the hiding, the careful expressions, and posture, the image to keep others from knowing what was actually going through his head, "All of that, all of that is still you. That's what I mean...those things you know but don't, and maybe they're even driving you crazy that you do but you don't, because who wouldn't get frustrated by that but it's you. And I wish I could...that I could explain that better but I don't..." he wanted to make Harry see what he meant, that those little things really did count and meant something. That they might not feel like anything important but they were something.

Peter watched Harry, through the glass and hating that he was, and turned ideas over in his head. Threw them out, dragged them back, shook them turned upside down for any other scrap of an option. Anything that might try and show what he meant that maybe Harry would believe, "....let me try something?" he asked, "...I'll need you to come closer, and I'll need to open the door, but I'm not coming inside, okay? I promise, I am not going to walk into the room without you saying I can I just....I want to hold your hand. It might sound weird but, I want to try something, and if in even just two or three seconds you want me to move away and shut the door again, then that's what's going to happen. But that's all I want to try, just sit on the floor, and hold your hand, for as long as you'll let me. That's it."

Maybe it would be nothing, but maybe it would be another something.

|| @inhcritance ||

It would have been easier, not knowing. He didn't know if it would have been kinder, he didn't even know what kindness was or what it meant beyond a concept he barely understood these days. Not when he was supposed to have the experience and the knowledge and it was all in shambles, and every time he reached for a piece of the puzzle he got either air or the wrong piece.

Maybe it would have been kinder to accept. To just accept and see how things progressed, because there was being some progress. Some minimal, frustrating progress for someone who had always been proud of his mind. And what a curse it was to remember that, of all things.

But he also remembered enough to read Peter, and he was suddenly, sharply glad that there was the glass between them, because he could see the fear, but if he'd smelled it? Brief as it might be? He didn't know if he'd have been able to keep it together. He wasn't keeping it together now beyond the barest definition of it, anyway.

And yes, maybe he'd locked himself up in the past. And maybe he should have been brought to near-tears by such a declaration, and a part of him was, because he saw it was honest and he didn't think he doubted Peter, not with the rawness of his voice. Not when he wanted to offer at least some support back. Not when a part of him wanted to yield.

But he did not remember that. He thought he could remember a lab. At least two, maybe. And maybe he was as passionate, as caring as Peter was saying. Maybe that was true. But he didn't feel too passionate and too caring while sealed away from the world, with nothing but a lab for trustworthy life experience.

He didn't feel very kind for hurting like this the one person he thought meant the most for him, at that moment.

And yet, he thought, as he lost what grip he had on his composure, first a hand through his hair and then, when he couldn't hold himself in check further, he just rested his face on his hands for a moment and breathed, and tried to keep himself together again.

He'd been good at this, once. He'd been steady despite a propensity for anger and recklessness, because he'd trained himself to be. Or so he thought. And now...

Now he breathed out, the seconds ticking by, and regarded Peter, and wished there was anything but the exhausted sorrow and the fear he knew he couldn't really hide.

"Because I'm me." Harry spoke. Slow, careful, holding himself together and feeling the most human and the most raw. "But what if I'm not me anymore?"

And that, of all things, was what he was the most terrified of.

"What if I can never be that man again?" He breathed out, but looked at Peter straight in the eye again, challenge and plea both. "What if the person I am without all that I've lived turns out to be someone else?"

@localwebslingers

#muse | peter parker(tasm)#inhcritance #[v: down at street level]

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canisalbus · 11 months ago

Note

Have you seen black sails? I don't want to spoil it but I imagine the "they live" au being similar to a certain plot in that show. Bittersweet and you're not sure if it's really a *good* life but at least they're together.....

#I'm getting recommended a lot of pieces of media and I seriously need to get cracking with them #I hope you know that I keep track of this stuff pretty carefully #because if someone takes time out of their day to let me know some piece of fiction #reminds them of me/my characters/themes/interests #then I'm definitely going to give it a look #no I haven't watched Black Sails unfortunately #I watched an episode or two forever ago and I think I liked it alright #but I can't for the life of me remember why I didn't continue with it #most likely I was just in a bad headspace or overwhelmed at the time or something but I've been meaning to give it a second chance #coincidentally I liked the theme song so much I've been listening to it regularly all these years #partly because it prominently features one of my favorite rare instruments #hurdy-gurdy my beloved

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monstersflashlight · 1 month ago

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Lusty for love

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Cupid (monster) x fem!witch reader || sex pollen, (light) dub con, breeding, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink

You were stupid. A bit more stupid than normal at least.

You were trying to get some new potions to work when you accidentally spilled the pink powder he gifted you specially for lust potions. The pink powder was obtained from the cupid species, they produced it on their wings and any human or monster would instantly fall into a lustful frenzy once they touched it. And that’s why it was so hard to get, they had to give it to you specifically with a very clear intent of lust...

Your cupid friend gave it to you as a birthday present, and you were supposed to drop an itty bitty quantity in each potion because every time someone used the powder, he would feel it. You promised not to use much, always controlling how many potions you’d make… But you weren’t expecting for it to slip your fingers and pretty much cover your whole body. Your skin was tingling and your brain was barely coherent when you dialed his number.

“I need your help,” you whispered against the speaker, not letting him even say hello.

His response was instantaneous: “What happened?” You could hear him batting his wings in the background, and you were sure he was already mid air coming to get you. He must have felt the powder activating.

“I- I dropped the pink powder on me,” you confessed, your breathing labored and your skin tingly.

Fuck, you were about to burst and you didn’t even move. You’d never felt such intensity before, it was like every inch of your body was electrified and caressed at the same time, even the touch of the clothes over your body felt erotic.

“Fuck,” he cursed. The air against the phone was enough to know he was rushing to your house, his wings almost deafening in the background.

“Please, please…” You barely made sense, your brain was fuzzy in a way that made your clit tingle and your panties were so wet you could already feel your juices ruining your pants.

“Fuck,” he cursed again. In other circumstances you would have blushed, your unrequited crush on your cupid best friend making you feel all kinds of emotions. But you weren’t thinking straight, and he was talking again: “I’ll be there in a few minutes, take your clothes off, rub your pretty little clit until you are dripping wet because as soon as I cross your window I’m going to be inside of you, and I won’t stop until you are dripping with my come for every single hole.”

His words drove your brain into a frenzy, the effect of the pink powder getting even stronger as you did as you were told, pulling at your clothes so fast and hard you broke something. You didn’t care, you’d deal with whatever tore later on. You laid on your potions table, not caring about everything falling down or the million little pieces of glass that were probably on the ground, you had only one focus: obey. Your fingers found your clit and you started rubbing rapidly, moaning against the phone.

“You sound so sweet, good damn it. I knew you’d be perfect,” his words meant nothing and all at the same time, your inside twisting and turning as your pussy contracted over nothing, making you whine and beg. “I know, love, I know.” You could hear him breathing hard, the powder probably affecting him too, and with each movement of his wings you could feel him getting closer.

The second your window opened with a big crash, you were begging for him and he was falling to his knees next to the table, not caring about the glass, grabbing your ankles and pulling your legs as far apart as possible. He set his big body between them, his wings so wide and soft you felt the tickle against your knees when he pushed your legs over his shoulders.

The first contact of his tongue against your tender flesh feels like lightning hitting your body. And it only turned better when his dexterous tongue found your clit. He ate you out like a starving monster, fucking in and out of your pussy with his forked tongue until you were screaming his name and asking for more. More. More.

You came in less than two minutes, with his fingers pressing against your G-spot and your brain turning into jelly inside your head. It was so much and so little at the same time. You needed more. You needed him inside of you in any way you could. You pushed your torso up, pulling your legs off his shoulders and shoved his chest back until he was a few feet back. You jumped off the table, not even feeling the tiny glasses on the ground as you walked over them.

It was like your orgasm only made you hornier, more desperate, you needed him more than you needed your next breath. “Let me suck you off, please, please…” You begged, your eyes fixated on his dick straining against his pants.

You fumbled with the zipper, and he helped you, looking at you with such tenderness that your heart was about to explore out of your chest. But first: dick.

“Okay, love. Okay. Whatever you want. You can do whatever you want to me.” His words sounded like a promise, and your brain was so fuzzy you could only nod as you fell to your knees. “Open up,” he ordered, taking himself on his hand and caressing your cheek with the other. He fed you his cock and you swallowed it down greedily. “That’s it, such a good witch for me, such a pretty mouth wrapped around my shaft. Fuck, do that again.”

You rolled your tongue over his head, pressing against the underside where you knew he was most sensitive. That cupid anatomy book coming in handy when you were wrapping your hand at his base and squeezing until you felt the ridges inside move. He cursed over you, his hand grabbing your hair so harshly you felt the tiny spikes of pain, but that only made you moan louder around him.

He cursed again, telling you nonsense as he moved his dick in and out of your mouth slightly. “Fuck, your mouth, love. You are perfect. You are so good to me. I’ve been wanting to have you like this forever. Good goddess, your mouth.” You grabbed his ass, trying to get him closer, further down your throat, but he stopped you. “None of that, I… I need you. I need to be inside of you. After that you can play with me all you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” your voice was airy and low, and without a doubt you knew your whole body was pink all over.

He helped you to your feet, claiming your mouth in a brain melting kiss before grabbing your ass and helping you back onto the table. His fingers found your pussy at the same time he positioned himself on your opening. “You are so wet, fuck.” He pushed the tip inside, and you were indeed so wet he slipped right in.

He cursed in so many languages you weren’t sure how many words he said, but you were in heaven. You reached Valhalla or whatever other heaven there existed out there. All at once. None at all… You touched the stars and came back to your body when he moved his hips back, pushing right back in and drawing a scream out of your lungs.

And then there was no more playing, only frantic fucking and dirty words.

“Do you like me, love? Do you like the feel of my cock inside of you? Do you like when I say dirty things to you?” You shivered, nodding frantically as you rolled your hips, chasing some of the pleasure he was promising you with his thrusts. “Of course you do, you love to be fucked this hard, this fast… You never had it so good, did you? None of your stupid boyfriends was as good as me. Say it.”

“None were… None as good as you…” Your voice was trembling, his thrusts too fast and harsh, but you couldn’t complain. You wouldn’t. It was that good.

“I know darling, I know nobody was as good as me. But you didn’t let me tell you that, did you? You were always with one or another, never enough time for me to fuck you as you deserved. To treat you as you deserve. To make you fucking mine,” he punctuated each word with a hard thrust that hit right over your G-spot, sending sparks of desire and pleasure to your brain until you were drooling over the table. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me you don’t like me like that and I’ve been pining over you for nothing,” his anger was palpable in each thrust of his hips inside your pussy, his ridges undulating and massaging you from the inside.

“I CAN’T. I CAN’T. YOU ARE RIGHT!” You screamed as another wave of pleasure washes over your body.

But he wasn’t listening to you, he was too focused on his actions, on driving you insane. “You can’t because you like me. You’ve liked me as long as I’ve liked you and you’ve been denying us both. For what? For some flimsy human dick? No more, love. You don’t go back to anyone else anymore. You. Are. Mine. To. Please.”

“Yours. Yours. Yours…”

And then there’s fireworks behind your eyelids and your brain is short circuiting. You could barely hold your body up as he expanded his dick inside of you, the cupid trick of locking inside your tight pussy was multiplied by a thousand because of the pink dust, and you could only scream silently as he bred you to the brim and your vision turned white behind your eyelids.

You came back to your body resting over his chest, the soft feathers tickling your cheek as you looked down at his wet dick, still half hard. Your body still craved him, and you were about to act on it when he said: “For what’s worth… I really like you like that, too, love,” he whispered against your sweaty forehead, his breathing labored as his dick twitched in your line of sight.

You threw a leg over his middle, rubbing your still dripping pussy over his dick. “Prove it.”

And he did.

(He was also true to his promise to leave you leaking and bred from every single hole, but that’s a story for another day...)

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riddlesrose · 8 days ago

Text

the string of fate

w/ riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, & malleus in part one: meeting your soulmate.

“i learnt about this in school as a kid, but didn’t know it could… cross dimensions?”

most go their entire lives with little to no hope of finding their cosmically assigned second half, but there's always a chance.

you don’t see your string until you come into physical contact with your soulmate for the first time. a red string will tie itself on your left pinky, unable to ever be removed but it feels as if its never there. the featherlight tickle of the string always reminds you that you've found the one thing a lot of people would lay down their life for.

a.n; 7.6k words total ~ 1.1k each so buckle up for a long post

riddle never really thought much on the idea of a soulmate. his mother taught him that he’d have no need for one, to push the idea out of his head. but it stuck. it stuck to him in the back of his mind, that there was someone out there, and the slim chance he had to meet them kept his hope aflame.

riddle and his crew of cards were some of the first people you actually met in the wonderland. you took him as some sort of rule enforcing, crazy man for the first few days until you realize he really just likes making sure everything stays in order.

headmage crowley had sent you on a few back and forth missions for him recently, which always led you to the same heartslabyul dorm each time, specifically to riddle or trey if the housewarden was busy or unavailable.

you rap your knuckle against the large front door and are instantly greeted by ace, who happens to look like he’s in a major rush. he greets you quickly, then speeds past you like he’s tardy for something. he probably is.

you shrug and let yourself into the dorm building, “hello?” you voice echoes off the walls of the oddly empty halls. you take the chance to look around a little more closely than before, you notice there are signs pointing to many different directions on the same stem, but they all point to places leading to walls or doors. strange.

there are many paintings hung on the tall, red wrapped walls. some are of animals, like flamingos and hedgehogs, others are of people. you notice there are a lot of one plump lady with a small yet tall crown upon her head. must be the queen of hearts.

someone clears his throat behind you. “i see you’ve let yourself in.” you whirl around and are met with riddle’s stern look. not quite disapproving, but you can’t quite place the look he’s attempting to flatten you with.

“well, ace technically let me in?” you gnaw on your bottom lip, realizing how stupid that sounds.

“right. i see you were looking at the pictures on the walls, have any caught your attention?” the housewarden lifts an eyebrow, before scanning the nearby paintings and various pieces of decoration filling the hallway.

you turn to the large portrait of who you assume is the queen of hearts, “yeah, this one.” you take in the details, her mouth is open as if she’s commanding the various card soldiers by her side. you notice they’re all a perfect match to a deck of cards. spade, diamond, heart, and clover soldiers march together in perfect unison at the queen’s orders.

behind her is a large castle surrounded by tall shrubs in varying shapes resembling animals and many red rose bushes. something about this painting feels vaguely familiar.

“ah, yes. that is actually my favourite painting in this hall– the main focus of it is the queen of hearts. she was a strict ruler who ruled over her land. she kept everything in order with her army of card soldiers who followed her loyally. i believe that is because if one of them was out of line, she declared immediate beheading.” riddle looks fondly up at the painting, as if reminiscing over someone lost.

you step closer to the painting, almost close enough you could see the brushstrokes if you squint hard enough. “she kind of… looks like she would fit in here. i think she would like the roses.”

“you’re not wrong.” you glance at riddle, catching the small smile he’s wearing as he stares up at the old painting. riddle wipes the smile away swiftly, turning to you. “so, prefect. if i may be so curious, what brings you here today?”

“right! right, that. headmage crowley said…” you pause, “wait, what did he say.” you mumble, turning away slightly to think. “did he…? yes, he wanted me to relay a message. for… some reason.”

“that message is?”

“‘tell housewarden rosehearts that we are expecting a new delivery of riding gear by next week.’ ” you mock crowley's voice to the best of your abilities, turning back to riddle, then continuing. “there’s horses here?”

“yes, there’s multiple. i’m in the equestrian club with some other students. i could show you some time if you are interested.” riddle’s smooth, almost uninterested voice gets a little softer when he goes on, “i dare say i have a favourite, she’s quite kind.”

you hold out your hand, offering a promising handshake. “it’s a deal, housewarden rosehearts: you show me the horses sometime.”

the redhead cracks a small smile, “please, riddle is fine.” he takes your hand, “sometime it is-”

he stops mid phrase. small red glitters start emitting from your interlaced hands, falling but not quite hitting the floor. they disappear moments after they appear. the twinkling glitters capture the light coming from the nearby window, they shine bright before dying like an oxygenless fire.

riddle’s breath hitches in his throat, frantic eyes meeting your equally blown ones. both of you want to rip your hands away, to go back five minutes ago, but neither moves. the glittering stops moments later. you’re the first to slowly peel your hand from riddle’s, breaking eye contact, you look down to your left hand. there sits a neatly tied bow, perfectly symmetrical, perfectly placed for all to see.

riddle copies you, examining his own left hand. a matching red bow sits tied on his pinky. despite his mind screaming at him to leave, to ignore fate, he decides to test the waters of the universe. he gently grasps your left hand with his right, when you make no move to take back control, he slowly moves your hands together.

a light tickle is felt as the string unwinds and begins reaching towards riddle, more specifically, towards his string, which is also unwinding and reaching for its second half. your heart is hammering against your ribs as you watch fate’s cruel display of affection.

you’re sure riddle can share the sentiment of cruelty. you’ve known riddle for a total of less than a month, and hey, has anyone mentioned that you’re not from this universe? no? maybe they should.

your breath comes out slow and ragged, words fail to form as you attempt to say something, anything, to who was just a friend minutes ago.

“i-i think, i uh, hear grim calling. i need to go.”

“uh, yes, yes. i will… be in touch about the horses. if you’re still interested.” riddle’s voice trails off as his confidence wavers with each word while he watches you leave. you look back over your shoulder to riddle, to your cosmic partner.

riddle has no need for a soulmate, right?

you have no idea what you’re going to do about this.

leona never really put his hopes in a soulmate. he knew after he graduated that he’d go back to the sunset savanna and be the second prince once again. though he often milked the ‘prince’ title, he loathed the idea of falling into line with actual princely duties, like getting married. there was a sliver of hope in leona’s mind that if he ever found his soulmate that there’d be a chance he’d get to have a say in his marriage.

in the end, he’s as hopeful for that outcome as is a sea sponge is to grow legs and walk out of water.

you blink away the drowsiness clouding your mind, professor trein might actually bore you to death if he’s not careful. though it’s only the first weeks of classes, half of his lectures are not sticking in your brain. some would say, in one ear and out the other.

an elbow nudges you from your left side, it’s ace. “do you get any of this?” he whispers.

“you’re asking the wrong person.” you narrow your eyes and blink hard this time.

a moment passes where ace is beyond confused, then he realizes that in fact he is asking the wrong person for help here. he quickly twists in his seat to his opposite neighbour, deuce to ask him the same thing. deuce shakes his head. ace’s shoulders deflate, defeated.

some more time passes before class is over, trein assigns some work, you, ace, and deuce groan in succession but were quickly leveled with a stare from trein. the three of you swiftly made for the exit.

it’s only an hour later that you realize your bag was unzipped and wide open as you were complaining with the heartslabyul freshmen, meaning your history notebook was left somewhere in trein’s classroom. you bashfully rub at your neck while you explain to the duo why you have to suddenly ditch them, reassuring that you’ll be as quick as you can and they don’t need to come with.

grim stares at you before ineffectively dismissing his hench-human with a huff and a flick of his paw. (you were going to go whether grim ‘allowed’ you to or not, you need that book.)

your speed walking caught you some funny looks as you sped past students in the halls, you didn’t want to leave your friends hanging. gods this would be so much easier with magic.

you reach the history classroom and the door is slightly ajar. you assume either the professor was still in there or it was purposefully left open. maybe he realized there was a forgotten notebook and thought you’d come back for it. it does have your name across the top in blue pen.

the door squeals on its hinges as it opens slowly, you cringe at the sudden noise. it goes quiet as the door fully opens. no trein in sight, nor does his desk have an addition of your notebook. okay, maybe it’s still at your seat.

the class is empty, thankfully. you don’t have to awkwardly squeeze through strangers looking for a white notebook. a lot of people have white notebooks, but only you have your name. you reach the desk you sat at today and… no book. oh.

“okay, where is it.” you sigh to no one as you fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of anyone who would steal a freshmen history notebook. while you’re thinking, a yawn catches your attention. wait, what?

“check the floor.” the yawn turns into a phrase, making you jump.

“what the hell?” you look around, whipping your head from the left to the right, but ultimately seeing no one. after a minute of silence, from both you and the gruff voice, you inch your way around the desks, checking the row behind. you practically jump out of your skin when you’re met with leona kingscholar sprawled out across a row of seats.

“that can not be comfortable.” you point out the obvious as the scare wears off.

“it’s not.” leona agrees, “but it was quiet, and empty.” he cracks an eye, leaning his head up slightly to look at you upside down. he kind of looks like he’s scowling but it’s hard to tell.

you take a second, somewhat taken aback at his jab to your presence. “right. well, sorry?”

“apology accepted, now get out lest you disrupt me anymore.” okay, rude. you roll your eyes before taking his previous suggestion. you squat down and check the floor for your book and-

“aha!” the notebook somehow ended up in the row behind you, it must have slipped from your bag and slid backwards. you reach under the seat leona’s got his head on, but the sleeping prince catches your arm before you can grab the book. it stuns you for a moment before you recover, “what’s your deal?” you try and back your arm from his grip but he doesn’t let go.

“you. you’re the deal. you’re yellin’ beside my head.” embarrassment rushes to your face, you did triumphantly shout when you found the missing book, that much is true.

“okay, i’m sorry. now please let me go.” leona releases your arm, opting to run a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes as he sits up.

you scoop the notes off the ground, attempting to get out of leona’s bubble before you make enemies with the wrong person (i.e the second born prince of the sunset savanna). he reaches up and stretches his arms and back from probably the worst sleeping spot on school grounds, but something catches your attention. you suck in a breath, not wanting to make assumptions, and lift your left hand.

there sits a perfectly tied red string, transparent yellow glitters still emanating from thin air. looking back up, leona has a matching patch of disappearing glitters that follow his stretch. scrambling to your feet, you drop the notebook you searched so diligently for and reach for leona’s arm as it falls. he opens his mouth to protest but snaps it shut at the panicked look in your eyes. he falters for a moment, hoping you explain before he asks.

the housewarden glances where you’re focused. a dainty red string is unwrapping itself from your finger and reaching towards… him? not a moment later, you’re walking as fast as your legs will take you without giving out, back to your friends who’ve hopefully not forgotten you were with them. you’ve a lot to think about.

then again, so does leona.

azul always humoured the idea of a soulmate. someone to always put up with him, to be by his side eternally. he’s caught himself once or twice drifting off to the idea of who it is, were they like him in any way? was it someone from the human world, the sea, or was he bound to never find this mysterious individual? azul found himself checking his pinky if he remembered. it was always bare.

until the day it wasn’t.

you absentmindedly kick a pebble into the slightly overgrown grass surrounding main street. large stone statues of the seven tower around the street, each with a plaque engraved with their names. something about them felt oddly comforting, like finding an old childhood toy buried deep in a box, but you couldn’t place why.

suddenly, both your arms are taken by a matching pair of twins. one loops his arm around yours, the other lightly grabs onto your shoulder.

one second you’re shuffling around the statues of the seven, next you’re being dragged around by the freaky leech twin duo. floyd offers no explanation, jade simply says he knows what he’s doing. you’d hope so. you hope he’s got a real good explanation for abducting someone off the main street and hauling them to the mirror room, transporting them to the octavinelle dorm building.

the sea theme catches your eye, the plants sway as if they really are underwater, and the air smells slightly salty. you take in the exterior design, how it all blends together and creates a homey feeling for the students.

you breath in the air once again, “okay, now that we’re here, can either of you tell my why i’ve been kidnapped?”

floyd begins cackling behind his hand, “shrimpy-napped!” air passes from your nose, ready to get annoyed with floyd before jade offers an explanation.

“azul has requested you come visit him, this was the best way.”

“no, it’s not? he could have come to talk to me like a normal person.”

the octavinelle dorm opens, revealing the man of topic. “why be normal? besides, i am a very busy man, this was optimal.” optimal for you, you weren’t nabbed off the main street by a pair of eels. you close your eyes for a moment, mentally resetting.

you realize jade and floyd are still hanging off your arms so you shake them off as azul now takes the lead, showing you to his office, where he claims is the best location to have a chat. you’re not sure what he wants from you, or why you’re actually here, but it better be good.

azul sits, gesturing for you to take the seat across from his desk. the chair is simple, seemingly in pristine condition too. maybe it’s new. his desk, on the other hand, has definitely seen better days. there are knicks and scratches all around, marking up the beautiful detailing of the wood. you sit as you examine it.

azul clears his throat, stealing your attention from the chipped desk. “so, ramshackle prefect, are you one hundred percent sure you don’t know how you ended up here?”

you groan as soon as the words leave his lips. this cannot be the reason he’s gotten you prefect-napped by his vice housewarden and his brother. you stand to leave, not wanting to play along with azul’s ridiculous play on your arrival.

“wait- don’t go?” he sounds almost confused, as if he doesn’t know why you’d up and go.

“oh come on, azul, this is like our second proper meeting and you hound me for showing up in twisted wonderland? i don��t know, okay?” you sit back down.

he folds his hands on the desk in thought. he kisses his teeth before starting again, “alright, i’ll admit, that was low of me. how about this, i’ll offer a glimpse of my past in return for some of yours. i am very curious about you.”

at least he admit to his wrongdoing, but why is he interested in you and your past? azul must be able to see the confusion and consideration in your face, he continues. “i cannot lie when i say i haven’t felt the same since you arrived.” his face instantly flushes, as does yours. that really sounded like some twisted love confession.

“i-i mean there’s been this odd feeling i get when someone mentions your name, i can’t quite explain it.”

“azul, stop while you’re ahead. you’re digging a deeper grave here.” he nods, flushed cheeks hidden behind gloved hands.

for the next half an hour, the two of you ignore the odd confession azul accidentally spilled while you share childhood memories. it’s oddly intimate but comforting at the same time.

sometime during an anecdote you lean your arms on the desk, fiddling with the nearest pen to keep your hands busy. a habit that azul shares. he’s flicking a pen back and forth absentmindedly while he recounts the first day he met the twins.

azul lowers his hands, halting the pen's movements, and taps the top of your hand in a comforting attempt. “now, i hope i didn’t… make a… bad impression…” he trails off as quickly as he started.

your eyes are glued to your balled fist where purple glitters begin emanating from thin air, materializing the fated red string. you instinctively flatten your hand to watch the string work its way around your finger. across from you, azul is equally as stunned as he almost rips his glove in attempts to remove it, watching as his own matching shimmer appears.

you’re both stunned to silence. unsure of how to react, or what to say. until the boy across from you breaks the momentary silence, “i guess… i know why i was drawn… to you.” his voice is soft, almost scared as he speaks.

“maybe it was a good thing i was ‘shrimpy-napped’ today.” you’re just as quiet, eyes glossy.

shrimpy-napped? you’ll have to explain that one to him later. you have nothing but time… azul hopes.

kalim knows he can’t indulge the idea of a soulmate too much. he’s next in line to a wealthy family and carries an influential last name. despite knowing this, it’s always been a thought in his busy mind, knowing someone, somewhere is the missing piece to his mental puzzle.

for the last week, something has been bothering kalim. neither he nor jamil can figure out what it is, he’s passing his classes (to his knowledge), he’s got a trustworthy vice housewarden and no one has tried to kill him for the past few months… kalim couldn’t put his finger on the reason his stomach felt like it was in knots.

it got progressively worse over the week and he was afraid he was falling ill. a few tests later and he’s healthy as a horse. with a clean medical slate and nothing of real concern, the only thing kalim can do is plaster a smile on his face and go about his day, trying to ignore the sensation.

the large door separating the lounge from the kitchen swings open with great force. “jamil, i can’t take it anymore! it feels like there’s something wrong with me!”

“i believe i can assure you there’s nothing wrong with you, are you nervous about anything?”

“no,” kalim sighs, dropping his head into his hands. it’s been a week of no answers, and the only time he felt any better was in his classes. maybe it was because his mind was occupied by other things, or… there’s another reason.

you let your head fall back onto your pillow, looking over to grim. “well, weasel? am i dying, or am i dying.” the pads of grim’s paw feel across your forehead, not without shooting you a look over the nickname.

he retracts his paw, tucking it back by his side. “you feel fine? maybe you’re homesick?” grim offers a solution you hadn’t thought of. it wasn’t a non-possibility, you did get transported away from your homeland not two months ago.

you check the phone you were given for the time, “grim, we’re going to be late!” you shoot up straight like a firework, snatching your school bag and blazer before scurrying out the door, grim hot on your trail.

you know you’re not supposed to, but you take off running down the halls of NRC like you’re being chased. the last thing you need is to be late and get in trouble. you dodge other students who aren’t in the same rush you are, they’re probably in the right half of the school anyways. your class was on the opposite side of the school, up two flights of stairs. for someone with magic, this would be easy. no sweat.

you’re in the middle of mentally complaining when you zone back in, you gasp as you almost bullrush the student in front of you, but his companion quickly pulls him aside. your hands just slightly brush up against one another as you pass him. without stopping, because if you do you’ll surely be extremely late, you glance over your shoulder and yell an apology.

you catch sight of who you almost crashed into, and by the gods, you were almost dead. dead at the hands of jamil viper. you just about swept kalim al-asim straight off his feet and onto the ground, but thanks to jamil, you’re spared a swift demise.

many halls and two flights of stairs later and you reach your class. thankfully, just as you step in the bells ring. as you take your seat, you realize you feel a lot better all of a sudden.

a long, lazy hour later, the class finally ends. you’re freed from the grasps of boredom, but a pair of tan hands decked in golden jewellery find themselves on the top of your table, halting your attempt to leave peacefully.

the scarabia housewarden beams as you stand, startled. how did he know what class you’re in? what is he doing here, and what does he need with you?

a hundred questions blind you as kalim settles into the chair in front of your table. his beaming smile fell slightly into a smaller smile. you greet him, somewhat unsure of how you’re supposed to address him, as you know his title but haven’t really made friends with him yet. he dismisses it and asks to see your hands.

your teeth find your lip, biting down lightly in curiosity. you untuck your hands from your pockets and present them towards kalim’s outstretched ones. a gasp falls from his lips when he catches sight of your hand. your left hand.

you look down, unsure of the reason for his reaction.

then you see it. a gasp falls from your lips this time as you bring your hand closer to your face; a little red string, tied perfectly into a bow sits on the base of your little finger.

“when- who-... how!?” unfinished questions fall before you can think. you’ve met your soulmate without even knowing. this had to have happened today, but when? who was it? you only remember just about crashing into… kalim.

your face falls in disbelief. without thinking, you reach towards his hand, where a matching bow sits. the closer you get, the less uniform the bows become. when they’re within a few inches they begin to unravel and wrap around the other, like a vine conjoining in the middle of a wall.

kalim silently watches the spectacle in front of him, amazed. never in a hundred years did he think he’d ever be able to see this happen to him. growing up, he was told stories of soulmates and how they’re very unlikely to ever meet. but here he is, meeting the one the stars believed was best for him.

as you and kalim are watching the pair of strings move like magic a voice clears his throat by the door. you had no idea he was there but jamil shoots the housewarden a look, a warning of sorts, you assume. he knows there’s going to be a lot to unwrap with this newfound information. kalim knows it too, and so do you.

like why is your soulmate interdimensional? man… what a week. (it’s tuesday.)

vil liked the idea of a soulmate. would they be like him? or maybe the opposite. though, he didn’t actively search the lands for his soulmate, he was never opposed to the fact that the gods above, maybe even the seven, had picked someone for him.

him and his entourage of fans who would probably collectively lose their minds if vil announced the existence of his soulmate.

a few days ago, you were given an invitation by the pomefiore’s housewarden for a lesson on twisted wonderland etiquette. you assume crowley put him up to this, or maybe, vil wanted too. you weren’t sure, the only thing the invitation said was a date, time, and location.

now it’s the day, 4pm and you’re standing outside of the pomefiore’s large, castle-like dorm building. the perfectly trimmed bushes and blooming flowers give the exterior a nice, inviting aroma, but the sense of dread and fear have been gnawing on your insides since you passed through the mirror.

surely the wonderland’s etiquette can’t be so different from that of your homeland. maybe it was a ploy, or a faulty invitation. should you leave? yeah-

the door opens gracefully as you’re about to turn on the balls of your heels and high tail it back to the mirror. you’re met with the heeled housewarden of pomefiore, the illustrious vil schoenheit greets you kindly, inviting you in.

“thank you for uh, inviting me here.” you bow your head slightly, unsure.

“it looks like you’ve already got some experience under your belt, good.” does he seriously take you for a baby? you have basic manners, seriously, this cannot be a good use for your time.

but truth be told, vil solely invited you under the guise of an etiquette lesson because he’s had a feeling of lost since you appeared on the first day. something has been tugging at him since then and he had to find out what it is and how he can get rid of it.

vil guides you through elegant hallways, passing by large windows that look out to various places. large gardens, a fountain, beautiful blooming flowers, and chatting residents. all of it is somewhat overwhelming, but you can understand the constant need to be perfect, vil is the embodiment of it.

you trail slightly behind him as his heels tap on the flooring. you’re able to get a good look at him, his perfectly styled hair, creaseless uniform and perfect posture. you wonder how long he takes to get ready each morning.

the tap of his heels stops but you realize too late, you’re just about to crash into his back when he spins on the toes of his shoes. “before i forget, prefect, there’s something in my room i must fetch. come.” and then he’s off again, heels clicking on the shiny tile like tap shoes.

he swings the large detailed door to his room open, it’s decorated elegantly, like the rest of the pomefiore building. it’s something straight out of a designer competition, the sheets and curtains are silky, and expensive looking too.

“is there an ulterior motive for having me here?” the words fall from your lips as you’re looking around before you’re able to stop them. vil spins again, facing your after rooting through a drawer on his bedside table.

the blonde places a hand on your shoulder, gazing down through perfect eyelashes, “i believe with more practice, you won’t make a fool of yourself while you’re here.”

your brows furrow, is that the only reason he wanted to teach you? he thinks you’re a fool? you look over to the hand on your shoulder, but notice something other than his hand, which you were ready to swat away and go back to ramshackle.

iridescent purple glitters fall from midair, and you’re instantly filled with a sense of relief. like an ache that’s finally gone away, like you’ve found something you didn’t know you were yearning for.

technically, you did find something.

as you’re internally monologuing, you feel the hand on your shoulder tighten. vil has realized why he’s had an odd pull in your direction. you’re his soulmate. soul. mate. his mouth goes dry at the thought.

the magic-less human from a different world with an unbridled familiar, hand picked by the gods for him. he has one question: why? he releases your shoulder after you wince under the pressure, floating his hand to your raised one.

vil’s lips purse into a thin line, hiding the purple lipstick fully. he watches the string reach towards the one wrapped around your finger, moving as if controlled like a marionette. each draw of breath is slow, uncalculated and scared. the star believed he’d be excited, like anyone would be, if he found his soulmate, but your situation makes this hard.

he wants to enjoy this experience but you share the sentiment, your lips are pursed and eyes are wide.

the strings meet between your hands, tying into a neat bow between the other string. these fate strings are seemingly very smart; they’ve got some kind of gravitational pull towards its match. vil meets your gaze with an unexplainable shine glossing his pale eyes.

suddenly, his dorm door bursts open, revealing a disheveled rook, who’s actively attempting to smoothen the crinkles in his uniform and dust off his shoulders. he’s not in savanaclaw anymore. shocked, vil rips his hand from its place beside yours, shoving his hands under his arms as he crosses them.

“la roi du poison- oh, et la ramshackle préfet!” rook tosses his hands up, clearly not expecting you. “i hope i’m not interrupting, but there’s a problem in the lounge!” he starts back down the hall before vil can reply, leaving him no choice but to follow.

the housewarden apologizes quickly before only the tap and clack of his heels can be heard as he’s quick to follow his vice into whatever trouble someone’s caused.

you, on the other hand, are left with way more questions than this morning, but have the answer to one. the lifelong question about soulmates has been answered. somewhat.

idia didn’t believe he’d ever care even if he found his supposed soulmate. he’s too awkward, socially inept, and too focused on his games most days to consider searching. if luck was on his side eventually, and the day the string appears comes, he may just change his mind.

the first time you met idia properly, it was a complete mess. he often made appearances via floating tablet, or sent ortho in his place to meetings or gatherings. you heard from others that not many have seen the ignihyde housewarden in person for more than ten minutes total in the three years he’s been in NRC.

others are luckier with the introvert, like azul who shares his love for board games with idia. he’ll get all riled up during the club, going off on tangents, only to zip it moments later, utterly embarrassed about his outburst. azul had grown accustomed to idia’s back and forth attitude, and is more patient with him as a result.

you clutch the papers specifically handed to you by crowley for azul, something about a tax return for… his dorm? you didn’t quite understand what the headmage was yammering about before he ushered you out and directed you to the club, guaranteeing that you’d find the octavinelle housewarden there.

you pause in front of the class crowley mentioned, then push the door open. “well, if it isn’t the ramshackle prefect!” azul greets you as you enter the somewhat empty room, causing others to glance your way before returning to their games, including idia. his gaze lingering for but a moment longer from the corner of his eye. ortho greets you kindly as well, floating over to you, trying to peek at the small stack of papers.

“hello, azul. and ortho!” you smile to both.

“say hello to my brother, too!” ortho’s sweet voice rings as idia, who you now realize is his brother, looks as if he’s shaking like a leaf, ready to fly away with the wind.

“n-no, ortho, it’s okay.” his voice is quick, almost inaudible as he mumbles into his hood, which is doing a poor job of covering the flame-like hair that sprouts off his head.

you shrug walk closer to the table where azul and idia’s half finished game of checkers lies forgotten. you reach out and move around a white piece, claiming victory for the white team, who you assume was idia. you turn to azul and hand him the papers, “crowley sent me to give you these. something about a tax return? whatever he meant by that.”

azul takes the papers, tucking them under his arm. “i run a lounge open to any and all students, headmage must want his cut, i assume. you should come by some time! though, i’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“i uh, would if i could,” you pull the empty pocket liners out of your pockets comically, “i’m completely broke, wallet went poof when i… appeared? here.”

“ah-”

“well, azul, this was great but i’m going backtomydormnow, pleaseexcuseme.” idia’s unexpected, almost panic stricken voice breaks your conversation with azul as he stands, more like jumps, from his seat, startling not only you, but his brother and azul.

as the older shroud brother attempts to speed walk off, ortho floats around in front of him, trying to get him to stay, claiming he never leaves a game unfinished, or a score tied. idia tries to swerve around ortho, to get out as quick as he can, he’s not even fully sure why he wants to leave, why he feels he has to leave, but an overwhelming sense of familiarity surrounded him when you walked in. he tried to ignore it but it got worse the closer you came, and when you finished his game of checkers, he almost passed out.

he has to get out of here. back to the safety of his dorm room, to his games and favourite anime.

idia felt as if he was trapped in a triangle between azul, ortho, and you.

he stumbles over his own foot pathetically, causing you to reach out instinctively to hold onto his arm, hoping to steady him before he falls. idia pauses, looking scared as he brings a shaky hand close to his face. his eyes widen as you all watch a red string materialize from blue glittering stars tie itself around his pinky like magic. his face pales as you copy, bringing your left hand up to view.

a red bow sits neatly around the base of your pinky, blue glitter quickly fading. you slowly move your hand closer to idia’s, watching as the bows unravel and reach for one another. like a pair of vines, they wrap around each other until idia returns to his senses and rips his hand away, covering the new accessory to his everyday wear with his other hand. at the loss of its pair, your string returns to your pinky.

you stand there, utterly dumbfounded in the middle of the board game club. you came to simply deliver some papers to azul, but are now leaving with some very, very confusing new information.

you turn to azul who’s sporting a matching dumbfounded look, and ortho seems to be the only happy one at this point. when you turn back once again, idia has disappeared, possibly quicker than any teleportation magic known to magekind. ortho waves a swift goodbye, giggling as he tails after his brother.

you look at azul again, who’s mostly regained his composure, “well…?”

“what do you mean, ‘well’!? i could use a little more support here, azul. i just found out my soulmate isn’t even from my DIMENSION.” you drag your hands down your face, exasperated. and suddenly, very tired. “y’know what, don’t even answer that, i’m going back to ramshackle.”

you hear azul snicker as you march out of the classroom. asshole.

malleus cast the idea of a soulmate out long ago. with his millennium long life expectancy, he was sure he’d outlive, or had outlived, any type of lover the universe has assigned him.

the heir to briar valley was quite frustrated today. he had overheard some diasomnia students chatting about the idea of soulmates earlier in the morning and it’s been on his mind ever since. it’s well past the final class of the day, and he skipped dinner.

i don’t quite feel hungry as of now. he waved off lilia’s attempt to join them for the meal, worrying sebek the most. lilia quite literally had to hold the first year by the collar to stop him from chasing malleus down.

the housewarden shut himself in his room like a temperamental toddler. angry clouds crackle and pop outside, rivalling his emotions. his head felt like it was swimming in an indescribable pot of gelatin, it was heavy and sad, which troubled malleus more because he thought he was long over the idea of a little red string wrapping itself around his pinky.

what a trivial thing to be so upset over. some things in life aren’t fair, malleus knows that better than just about everyone. time is a thief and age is a curse, the heir gets to live hundreds of lives while that of humans perish so quickly.

sure, he’s enjoyed learning new traditions and customs that have sprouted within his lifetime, but he’s also watched the last remaining folks die in cultures, leaving their history to be forgotten over time.

malleus isn’t sure how, but he’s managed to be so deep in thought that he wandered to the spot he used to occupy before it gained a new resident. what’s now the ramshackle dorm, was once a beaten, dusty, forgotten building beside the main building of NRC.

the day you showed up was one he won’t forget. a human with an unruly, unkempt familiar who really has a knack for getting himself in trouble. since you’ve been living in the old building, fixing it up and going to classes alongside him and his peers, he’s stopped coming here for more than one reason.

it would be impolite to intrude on what is now your space, especially uninvited. he’s settled with lingering in the gardens in front of ramshackle. he’s taken a liking to the purple and blue flowers that have begun to wilt with the cooler season upcoming. malleus runs a finger over one, watching it instantly gain the strength to hold itself up, blooming once again. the purple petals shimmer with the lingering magic he shares, admiring the way it almost seems to follow his hand, asking for more.

“uh, excuse me?” a voice startles him back into focus, he clasps his hand behind his back and turns around. he’s met with a half asleep ramshackle prefect, hair messy and wrapped in a blanket.

“i apologize, i shall be going at once.” he’s been caught, he figures it’s time to find a new place to think.

you take a step forwards, looking the housewarden over, you’ve definitely seen him around before but he always looks either deep in thought or like he doesn’t want to be bothered, so you’ve kept your space from him. “no, wait.”

malleus falters, wait? he does just that. he doesn’t use his magic to teleport away, doesn’t walk backwards, doesn’t move. he allows you to look him over, to judge him, expecting the usual treatment. his guard remains high but he realizes how he towers over you, like he does with everyone else so he somewhat relaxes his body, trying to be smaller.

as you’re examining the semi-stranger in the garden, you notice the singular purple flower that’s in bloom. you tilt your head, looking past malleus. “did you… do that?”

malleus turns, suddenly remembering the flower. a small smile graces his lips as he leans down, picking the flower's stem near the middle. your brows knit together as he turns back and holds his hand out to you. the flower still shimmers from the magic he used. “i did.”

you pluck the flower from his hold, careful not to damage the delicate plant. you bring it close, “is there a reason you’re not in your dorm and in my garden? it’s late and sounds like it’ll rain at any moment,” you look upwards, expecting the sky to be as black as paint but instead you’re greeted with many, many twinkling stars and an almost full moon. “or… not?”

the housewarden follows your gaze, he hardly noticed the clouds have cleared. when did they do that? he swipes at his forehead, clearing his vision from the hair that sprouts around his horns.

“i suppose it is appropriate to explain my presence,” he turns back to you, bangs falling back into place. you’re still looking at the stars but you nod in agreement. “before you inhabited this building, i used to come here to think. since you’ve arrived, i’ve ceased that for clear reasons. i hope you do not mind i still roam the garden. it is quite lovely in the spring when everything begins to bloom.”

you listen to the horned individual, lightly caressing the flower unconsciously. the soft petals felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before, especially in a flower, could that have been due to the magic embedded in it?

“i don’t mind, it’s not like you’re being creepy about it, right?” he hums, “and besides, we all need a space to think. i’m… glad my little makeshift home can be comfortable enough for you.” you look up to him, moonlight glistening across your eyes.

you signal him to lean down, waving him towards you as you take a step closer to the not-so-stranger. his sharp eyes narrow ever so slightly, confused, but leans his head down.

you reach up to the tall man, setting the flower against the inside of his right horn. your finger grazes the side accidentally, you find it to be smoother than you expected. when you lean back, malleus stands up fully once again, and you’re able to take in how large he actually is. for a third year, he’s very tall. must run in the family.

suddenly, everything around goes quiet. no crickets chirp, no frogs sing, nothing. as if the world stopped breathing. the eerie feeling is felt by both you and malleus, but you catch on quicker. your eyes widen as you lock eyes with him, your eyes shoot to his left hand. lo and behold, a red string begins materializing from green shimmer as it slides itself over his pinky. you reach to grab his wrist, to examine what you seriously cannot believe is happening, but he beats you to it.

malleus evades your grasp as he moves quicker than you can see, he’s crouched beside you before you can blink. he’s intently watching the red string he’s sure he’d never see wrap around your little finger, breathless. but you–you’re frozen. frozen to the spot as a million thoughts run through your mind. the most important one though, is why your soulmate is from a whole different dimension. that’s… not good.

malleus’s only thought is: finally.

then dread hits him like a freight train. he wants to be so very happy, to be excited. to tell lilia, to tell someone that he’s found his soulmate, but he knows two things. one; you’re human. two; twisted wonderland is not your home.

malleus meets your eyes, they’re filled with an emotion he can’t place. but if this is bothering you, your face definitely shows it. he’s quick to stand, and as soon as you blink, he’s gone.

the purple flower, seemingly frozen in time, flutters from the place malleus’s head just was. a gust of wind suddenly picks up, stealing the flower from your outstretched grasp as clouds quickly fill the sky like they did earlier. a crackle, some thunder, and they’re ready to split open and flood these lands.

masterlist

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kaiser1ns · 2 months ago

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#. IT'S NAP TIME !

featuring 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, otoya eita

fluff. taking a nap with your boyfriend it's the most comforting thing, at least most of the time.

MICHAEL KAISER

Your boyfriend takes his one-hour nap during the day, it doesn’t matter if it’s early in the morning or late in the evening—he always carves out that extra time to recharge, unless you’re there.

As he lies sprawled across the bed, his shirt slightly crumpled and hair tousled, you can’t help but climb on top of him. Wrapping your arms around him, you press gentle kisses against his cheek, but he doesn’t stir, not even a twitch. Instead, he groans faintly, burying his face deeper into the pillow, murmuring, “Liebling, nap with me or leave me for an hour. Just one hour…”

But you know better. You know this isn’t just a regular nap. Tomorrow, he’s flying to Japan for this big football project, and the thought of being apart is breaking your heart to pieces. You don’t want to leave him, not even for a second.

Tenderly, you brush the soft strands of his blond bangs away from his face, taking in the calm expression he rarely lets the world see. This time, instead of kissing his cheek, you lean down and lightly bite the soft skin, hoping for some reaction.

“Mmm… what are you doing?” he grumbles, his voice muffled. He shifts slightly, his arm lazily draping over your waist to pull you closer. “Trouble, aren’t you? Just let me sleep…”

You giggle softly, resting your head on his chest your fingers idly tracing the lines of his tattoo. His heartbeat, steady and calm, feels like home. Even if he’s leaving soon, for now, this moment is yours.

ITOSHI SAE

The man lying under your bed sheets values a healthy lifestyle and an impeccable sleep schedule. But you? You value getting your fair share of sleep, even if it’s only occasional. Every time you decide to indulge in a well-earned nap, he somehow finds a way to kick you out of the bed—your bed. He came to your apartment seeking peace and quiet, but he was sorely mistaken. Not under your roof.

Eyes still heavy with sleep, your grip tightens around the pillow in your hands. It’s a weapon of choice because surely a good boyfriend deserves some form of reward now and then. Whether that reward comes in the form of suffocating love or a plush pillow smacking his face depends on the moment.

So you do what any rational person would. You throw the pillow at his head.

It sails through the air, hitting its mark with a satisfying thwack. Sae groans, rubbing his head as he pulls the pillow away. He slowly blinks his eyes open, only to find you standing at the doorway and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

He doesn’t say a word. Instead, what does he do? Exactly what he always does, he lifts the blanket in silent invitation—a silent peace offering. How thoughtful. He could have done that a few minutes ago.

You sigh, giving in because, well, of course you do. But not before marching over, slapping his arm for good measure, and planting a quick peck on his lips. It’s the least you can do for a man who’s equally deserving of your love and your wrath.

He doesn’t complain, he never does when you settle in beside him.

NAGI SEISHIRO

Sleeping Beauty, if someone asks you about Disney classics or to describe your boyfriend this is exactly what you will say. You fell asleep at the same time but you woke up because this same princess decided he wanted the whole duvet for himself and you just stared at him and it wasn't weird at all to stare at your boyfriend, not when he's so cute with slightly puffy cheeks and soft lips... Will he wake up if you kiss him?

You hovered your face above Nagi's, just like the Prince did in Sleeping Beauty. Gently cupping his face, you leaned down to kiss him. Seconds passed, and he still wasn’t waking up. Just as you were about to back away, his hands moved, softly holding yours and pulling you closer again.

That’s when you couldn’t breathe anymore. You placed your hands on his chest, breaking off the kiss. What a hassle—he just wanted to take a nap. Now, though, the taste of your lips lingered on his, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Your princess was quickly turning into a beast, especially when you stole the blanket and curled up with it, pretending you hadn’t just woken him up. His gaze shifted to you before he hugged you from behind trapping you in his warmth.

"Whatever," he muttered. He’d deal with this later.

ITOSHI RIN

Your favorite thing to do when coming over to the Itoshi’s household was defiantly laying in your boyfriend’s bed to take a nap after school, while his favorite thing was to sit on his desk playing horror video games or watching horror movies. The amount of time you have heard “Here’s Johnny!” when he yet again rewatched The Shining, while you tried to rest and most importantly trying to convince him to join you under the warm blanket.

Tossing and turning, craving his attention, but Rin stayed focused on the horror movie, ignoring your pleas. Frustrated, you sat up and declared, “I’m calling my mom to pick me up!” At first, he didn’t take you seriously, but as you dialed and started speaking, his body tensed.

“Mom, you’re coming to pick me up, right?” you said into the phone. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just need to finish some homework. Okay, I’ll wait outside in ten minutes.”

That was all it took. Rin abandoned the movie, snatching the phone from your hand before pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you tumbled back onto the mattress. Smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax against you. You always knew how to get his attention—just a little acting and a few white lies did the trick.

“Here’s Rin,” you teased, whispering into his ear as his breathing softened. “Shut up…” he mumbled, still sprawled on top of you. You smiled, snuggling him like a teddy bear, drifting off together. After-school naps like this were the best.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

How naive of you to think you're going to sleep at all when he's here asking you all sorts of things while rummaging through your wardrobe or spinning in your chair talking about velociraptors… As much as you love dinosaurs you would love to have some decent rest, but no your boyfriend decided that this is the right time to tell you about the evolution of the planet, the Big Bang and how these cute reptiles are gone. You feel the bed dip and he is next to you, poking you with his finger like a little kid beginning for some candy.

“Ryu, stop it or I will cause another Big Bang and you will be the first one to disappear,” he stopped and then he was on top of you crushing you with his weight. “Not If we die together~”

With all your strength, you try to shove him off. After a brief struggle, he tumbles onto the floor, smirking when he notices your exhaustion—dark circles under your eyes and eyelids heavy. Finally realizing you need rest, he gets up and gently tucks you into bed. But of course, he’s not done yet. Sliding beside you, he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. Too tired to resist, you let him stay as he resumes his velociraptor monologue.

“And the way they eat people is cute—” he pauses, glancing at your sleeping face. “But you’re cuter~” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead before dozing off beside you.

OTOYA EITA

Does he really think he can just leave out of the blue because he has “more important” things to do? Yeah, you definitely haven't heard that one before. However, Otoya Eita is nobody new in your life, a boy you've been seeing for a while, and even though you know what he's like, he's been acting like you're in a relationship for the past two months when you're not. You're either officially together or not, right?

He’s bold, you’ll give him that—trying to wriggle his way out when you cuddled on the couch taking a nice and peaceful nap. Now, with nowhere left to run, he’s backed into a corner. You’re staring at him like he’s the lowest on the food chain, and honestly, he finds it kind of hot. Good thing he had gum earlier—never know when a kiss might happen or when a girl might get so mad she leaves you speechless.

“Amaterasu,” he mutters, locking eyes with you, and you immediately facepalm. “Eita, we talked about this. I’m immune to ninjutsu—you know what, forget it.”

He blinks, stunned. Your surrender throws him off. You? Giving up? That’s never happened. So why does he suddenly feel like apologizing and staying over?

“If you wanna leave, just go,” you say, turning away. But instead of moving toward the door, he hesitates. “If I stay,” he finally asks, voice softer now, “Can I sleep between your legs?”

The things you do for him. Well, you like him, so you’ll try to work it out. Besides, he’s been faithful, most of the time. That’s gotta be worth something.

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angelfic · 2 months ago

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theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n

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girlygguk · 3 months ago

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NOT JUST ON CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK

he's the first boy you've ever brought home for christmas. jungkook's nervous. you're horny.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 4 of 6

pairing nerdy!jk x gf!reader

genre established relo, college au, fluff, smut (18+ mdni)

content jk 21 | yn 21, spirited extro gf x soft angel bf, jk comes home w oc for the holidays, he’s so soft and shy, until he isn’t oop, i triedd w the context but this rlly is just oc getting the xmas dicking she deserves, kissing, cursing, switchy soft dom jk, giddy subby oc, they try to keep quiet, keyword try, dirty talk, cunnilingus, jk's a munch, condomless p in v sex, oc on pill, creampie, they're literal angels & i would die for them

word count 4.8k

banner by the gorgeously gifted @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

“My mom loves you.”

“You think?” Jungkook’s lips tilt into a soft smile, his hand warm and steady as it glides over your thigh, draped comfortably across his waist. “She’s amazing. I see her in you a lot.”

Your nose scrunches as you smile softly into the curve of his arm, your fingers absently tracing along his chest. When your nails graze over his nipple, you feel it perk up under your touch, and you can’t resist pressing a light kiss to the skin beneath your lips.

“You’re so easy to love, baby,” you murmur, your voice muffled slightly against his arm. But you know he hears you from the way his chest rises and falls a little faster, betraying the quiet effect you always have on him. “Had me whipped from the first time I saw you.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows cutely, the same expression he always makes when you say this. He never quite believes it, even now. You can tell he’s picturing that day—how you noticed him tucked into the back of the freshman seminar, seated in a corner with his laptop angled slightly, like a shield in case someone dared to take the empty seat beside him.

That someone had been you.

Coming to Seoul for university had been a big deal—not just for you, but for your family and everyone back home in Namhae-gun who’d cheered you on. You weren’t naturally gifted in academics the way your boyfriend was, but you worked hard, just like he did. You’d taken every extra shift you could at your local little grocer, worked the after-school care program at Sannie’s elementary school, and with some help from your mom and stepdad, you pieced together what your scholarship didn’t cover.

With that, you packed your clothes and favorite trinkets from your childhood bedroom, said goodbye to your family and the friends you’d known your whole life, and set off for the big, bright Seoul city.

It was bittersweet. Namhae-gun had been your whole world, but Seoul was your dream. And now, as you looked at Jungkook beside you, his pretty face soft in the dim light of your room, you realized he was now your new both. Your world and your dream. Your present and your future.

You still talked to your best friends, Lila and Jimin, nearly every night over FaceTime, Jungkook joining most times. He’d been so adorably shy the first time they demanded to meet him, visibly nervous they wouldn’t like him. It still baffled you sometimes, how he could think that way. How he didn’t see himself the way you did.

Because, in your eyes, he was everything. The cutest, dorkiest, sexiest nerd you’d ever met—you’d kill for him. You knew Lila and Jimin would fall for him too. And they did.

Your extroverted best friends even begged him for his socials, which he shyly handed over, his cheeks pink as he spoke out his handles. He almost choked on his own saliva when Lila let out the loudest moan mid-call, suddenly thrusting her iPad at the screen to show his latest post. It was a photo of the two of you at the beach—you, in a little multicolored bikini holding the camera out, and Jungkook with his big, wet chest on full, bare display beside you.

You couldn’t help but giggle in agreement at her thirsting over your handsome boyfriend, cupping the side of his burning face as he ducked his head into your neck. His linked arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you nestled in his lap.

“Angel?” he murmured quietly into your neck. “Why would she say t-that?”

The disappointment—and maybe even slight annoyance—in his pouty tone made you want to slam your laptop shut and take him as far down your throat as you could. Instead, you’d cooed softly, turning your head to kiss his warm cheek and whispering in his ear that she was, in fact, a raging lesbian.

“Oh,” he whispered back, tickling your skin. “Okay.” His pout relaxed, and you felt the softest, relieved little smile on his lips against your neck.

You had bitten back a moan of your own at how much that turned you on, turning to pepper his round cheek with a hundred kisses until his blush faded and the corners of his lips tugged into a cute little bunny grin. You smiled fondly at the memory of Jimin groaning dramatically while Lila yelled at you to go lower.

“Your stepdad asked me to join him for golf tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s soft, nervous voice pulls you from your thoughts. You hum in surprise and beam up at him, fingers brushing lightly along his tummy. “Really? Oh, baby, that’s so great. Are you going to go?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, swallowing hard. His throat bobs as he glances down at you, your cheek now pressed against his chest. His hand lingers at your waist, fingers curling gently into your soft skin. “Would you… would you like to come?”

You coo softly, nodding as your lips brush the curve of his collarbone. “If you want me to, honey,” you murmur, your mouth pressing a little kiss to his pebbled nipple. His chest stutters with a throaty breath, and you grin against his skin. “I’d love to.”

“Always want you to come with me, baby,” he breathes, his voice unsteady as you tilt your head, lips wrapping softly around the bud. Your gaze drifts up lazily to his beautiful face, his eyes already half-lidded. “E-everywhere I go. Wish I could take you.”

“Mmm.” The hum vibrates against his chest as your hand slides up to scratch lightly over his other nipple, your teeth grazing over the one caught between your lips. His hips shift beneath you, his breath catching as his pants pick up. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, my love."

Jungkook tries to stifle the whine rising in his throat, but it slips out anyway, soft and desperate, when your teeth scrape just a little harder over his nipple. His fingers flex at your waist, gripping you tighter.

“Ahh,” he heaves under his breath, his head lolling softly into the pillow. “Baby, we-we can’t.”

You hum, brow arching slightly in amused defiance. “And why is that, honey?” Your lips brush over both of his nipples, one flushed red and swollen from your mouth, the other stiff and sensitive from your nails.

“B-because,” he stammers, his eyes fluttering open just in time to catch you tossing the blanket off your waists and shifting to straddle his lap. His breath hitches as your thighs settle around him, your body hovering prettily above his. He swallows hard, his focus slipping as he tries to gather himself. “Your parents, angel. What if they—”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, your palms flattening against his chest as you lean in to steal his breath. His exhale trembles through his nose, and he lets out a desperate mewl when he tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing your lips. You pull back just enough to keep him chasing you.

“Their room’s on the other side of the house, my darling,” you murmur against his lips, your voice low and sweet. “So is Sannie’s. Nobody’s gonna hear your cute little noises.”

Jungkook flushes a deep pink at that, his pout immediate and utterly adorable. You dissolve into giggles, your nose brushing his as he huffs. He doesn’t correct you, though. He knows better and so do you. You’re always the one who can’t stay quiet during sex, no matter how much he whispers please, baby, they’re gonna hear us against your skin.

The thought makes your heart race. Sometimes you still can’t believe he was a virgin before you. Not with the way he fucks. Sweet and shy as he is, Jeon Jungkook turns into something else entirely when he’s inside you.

Your first time together had been soft and clumsy and perfect. Tucked into the covers of his dorm bed while his roommate Taehyung spent the night at his girlfriend’s place. He’d asked if you were okay a hundred times, his hands shaking against your skin as he moved so carefully, so sweetly. You’d never felt more loved.

But the second time?

Once he stopped asking if you were alright every thirty seconds, once he started trusting you when you told him you fucking loved it and to keep going, he went.

Oh, how he fucking went.

That second night, your own roommate had come back early—earlier than she said she would—and screamed the moment she opened the door. She’d walked in to find your shy, soft-spoken, nerdy boyfriend fucking you raw from behind on your bed, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusted you back and forth on his cock, your makeup-smeared face buried in the pillow, your throat raw from begging.

“We’ll be quiet,” you lie softly against his mouth, your lips brushing his as you lean back down, rolling your hips over his stiffening cock. The thin fabric of your Christmas pajama shorts drags over his matching pants, the friction making him shudder beneath you. “Haven’t fucked me since yesterday morning, baby,” you pout, leaning up with a little huff, bouncing brattily in his lap. “You hate me.”

“D-don’t ever say that again, baby,” he husks, his voice so fucking low as you begin to grind your slickening core against him. “Love you more than life itself.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, your tone turning smug, satisfied. You drag yourself along the length of him again, slow and pointed, humming at the way he twitches beneath you. Leaning down, you hover just over his parted lips, so close your breaths mingle. “You love me that much, baby?”

He’s fighting it—you can see it. The way his jaw tightens, his brows knitting. His throat works around a sound he’s determined to swallow. His resolve is wavering. His control crumbling—or crumbled, he doesn't fucking know—as you roll your hips again, the wet heat of you seeping through the fabric between you.

“That mu-much, baby,” he chokes out, his voice strained. His long fingers dig gently into the soft flesh of your waist, guiding you as you move against him, his grip both a plea and a surrender all at once.

Your lips curl into a triumphant smile against his as you grind yourself back and forth with just a bit more pressure. You feel the way his breath hitches, the way his resistance falters. He knows he’s already lost.

And you know it too when his big hands slide under the hem of your little green singlet, patterned with tiny reindeers and snowflakes, gripping your hips firmly before flipping you both over.

Your big eyes blink up at him, maybe a little too giddy, as he hovers above you. He shakes his head softly, his bunny nose twitching, and then leans down to take the kind of kiss he’s been craving all day.

The kind of kiss he’s wanted since dinner, when your parents were fawning over him between bites of food, praising him for everything from his sweet nature to his thoughtful gift for San.

The one he hasn’t had a chance to steal since he was sitting nervously beside you on the living room couch, watching your baby brother open the limited-edition Iron Man figure Jungkook had picked out just for him. Sannie had sprinted up to your boyfriend, his tiny arms wrapping around him, hugging him so tight and calling him the best hyungie he’s ever had.

And, yeah, okay, maybe he cried a little.

It’s the first time all day he’s had you to himself, the first time since yesterday afternoon. The afternoon he’d spent with you in the communal kitchen at your college, baking the Christmas tree-shaped cookies you’d brought home for your family in a big container.

The same cookies he had snuck an extra one to Sannie, even when you told your little brother no more after two. He couldn't help it, folding instantly when the adorable kid tugged on his sleeve with those big, pleading eyes—the ones that reminded him a little too much of you.

Jungkook thought you hadn’t noticed, but of course you did. You’d stood quietly in the doorway, watching as your gentle giant boyfriend snuck two cookies from the container and handed one to San, his lips twitching with a soft laugh when your brother shoved the whole thing into his mouth like Jungkook might change his mind and take it back.

The feeling of your lips wrapping around his tongue pulls him back to the present, and he lets out a breathy groan into your mouth. You swallow it greedily, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you tug his warm, solid weight down into you, relishing in having him pressed so heavily against you.

“Needa be quiet, baby,” he says, his voice low and breathy, maybe even a little whiny as he pulls away reluctantly. “C-can’t have your dad hearing us. I won’t be able to play golf with him tomorrow if I can’t look him in the eye.”

You hum as your lips chase his, dazed and unbothered. “You hate golf,” you murmur absently, your hands sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck, your thumbs brushing soft, hot skin. Then your tongue slips past his lips again.

He lets out something between a grunt and a laugh, his resistance melting away as his big tongue laps against yours. You taste the faint trace of toothpaste as you kiss him deeper, chasing every last hint of it, your body tingling as you take his tongue further into your mouth.

It’s no surprise that he’s already fully hard, just like it’s no surprise that you’re already fucking drenched. His stiff cock presses down against your stomach, and your hips buck instinctively at the feeling, a mewly moan spilling from your lips without care.

His hand slides up from your waist to wrap gently around your throat, and your brows furrow in pleased anticipation through closed eyes, silently hoping he’ll squeeze harder. He does, in a way, his fingers pressing softly against the sides of your neck, enough to make your head spin. The kiss slows as he pulls back slightly, leaving you pouty and blinking up at him.

His cheeks are flushed, his soft lips slightly swollen, his big, gorgeous nose marked faintly on the bridge from where his glasses had rested earlier. He looks down at you before speaking, his voice reluctant, heavy with the words he feels he has to say.

“Quiet, please, angel.”

You lick your lips, trying to chase more of his taste. “Okay, cutie,” you say with a sweet smile, nodding softly as you gaze up at him. “I’ll be quiet.”

His tongue darts out to lick over his lips, as if he’s doing the same as you, before he smiles knowingly. “Liar.”

He’s back on your mouth, his fingers still brushing softly over your throat as his lips capture yours again. This time, he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking in a way that’s both soft and firm, pulling wet, breathy pants from you chest. Your ankles tighten around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. There’s not even any fucking space between you, but you're not a quitter, grinding pathetically up into him, hips searching for the angle you need.

And then you find it.

“mmmM,” you whine as his hard, covered cock presses perfectly through your pussy lips.

Jungkook groans low into your mouth at the feeling, his lips and tongue moving with messily with yours. He’s devouring you, the wet, sticky sounds of your kissing filling the room as you grind yourself shamelessly against him. The friction is heavy, perfect as his cock is stiff and hot beneath the thin barrier of his pajama pants. Your hips move instinctively, searching for more, harder, faster, anything to ease the ache between your legs.

His hand tightens around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep your head swimming. His lips break from yours with a slick little pop, leaving your lips humming and eyes hazy as they meet his flushed face. His eyes are wide and wet as his grip on your neck loosens, trailing down to your waist.

“Needa taste it, baby,” he rasps, his voice wrecked as he slips lower, dragging his big frame down the bed. “Please baby? Need to taste you.”

The words make your head spin, and you breathing out a pleading god yes baby as his hands grip the waistband of your shorts, tugging them and your panties down in one motion. The cool air against your slick heat makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his big tongue licking a fat stripe right up your drippy folds.

“Baby—fuckk,” you breathe, your thighs trembling as his mouth works into you. He’s messy with it, always is, his tongue dipping inside your hole, then dragging back up to swivel around your clit. His big nose presses against you as he eats, throat humming and brows furrowing like they always do when he tastes a really good dish.

He pulls back just enough to breathe out, “S-so yummy, baby. I love it. Love it so fucking much.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking it between his lips and humming dirtily, making your hips jerk up into his face.

“Hahhh,” you whimper, your voice high and dumb as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging hard when his tongue flicks even faster. “Shit, Jung- baby, uuh—”

Jungkook moans into your pussy, the sound high-pitched and needy, vibrating against your soppy heat. His jaw drops as he pushes in deeper, taking your whole pussy into his big mouth, completely forgetting the need for either of you to shut the fuck up. You’re dripping everywhere, your slick coating his lips and chin, and he laps it all up like an eager dog, his hands gripping your plushy thighs to keep you spread wide.

He lifts his head just long enough to suck in a breath before gathering a thick pool of spit in his mouth. He leans back down, face burying between your legs, and lets the saliva drool onto your folds before dragging his tongue through the mess, licking and lapping it all back up greedily.

Your body writhes under him, your head sinking back into the pillow as one hand fists tighter in his hair and the other grips the sheets desperately. Your mind reels, fragments of random thoughts flashing through it—the curve of the statue of liberty, the lucky quarter you found on your walk with him in the city, the moment you first kissed. Everything and nothing blurs together and you realize with a hum that your life is flashing right before your fucking eyes.

You’re trembling, vibrating against the bed, choking on the little noises slipping from your lips. Another uh. And another. And another.

“God, baby. That’s— uh, fuck. So fucking good. Eat your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook whimpers into you, his voice muffled by your cunt as his head follows the desperate rut of your hips. You buck against his mouth, but his hands hold you down, his tongue relentless. “My pussy,” he breathes against your folds, the words so adorably possessive. “It’s my pussy, baby.”

“That's r-right,” you gasp, your head lifting weakly to meet the sight of him—his face filthy, drenched, his mouth and nose buried in your heat as he tongue fucks your cunt like it's his last day on earth. “Your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook groans against you, wet and desperate, his hips shifting against the mattress as he thrusts into nothing, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He knows he’s close—so close that it’s embarrassing. He can feel himself leaking through the fabric, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s cumming right there in his pajama pants.

And you know it too. So you beg.

"Please, baby. Wanna cum with you, Kookie... Please."

His face morphs into a little pout as he slows, pulling away from his meal reluctantly, tongue flicking one last time at your puffy folds before his hands leave your thighs. He’s panting as he climbs back up your body, unable to deny you anything in the world, lips and chin glistening with your slick.

You smile at his wet face, your hands slipping up into his messy curls as you tug him down for a kiss. The taste of yourself on his tongue is heady, dizzying, and you let out a little moan as you suck every last bit of it from his mouth. Jungkook groans into it, the sound so low that it almost resembles a cute little growl.

When you pull back, giving his swollen, red pout one last kiss, your gaze flickers down to his hand rubbing over his painfully hard cock. You bite your lip, your eyes trailing back up to meet his as you blink, waiting patiently.

He licks his lips, leaning down for one more quick kiss as his fingers fumble at his waistband. There’s a soft shuffle, and then his cock is free, flushed and heavy in his hand as he slides it against your slick folds. Your breath catches as he lines himself up, his hooded gaze locked on yours, brows furrowed in concentration.

He doesn’t need to look. His cock presses into you with an ease that has you keening, the thick head stretching you open as he pushes in. You feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper, feeding you more and more until your nails dig into his shoulders. The burn makes your jaw fall open, your head tipping back against the pillow.

“Ah,” he groans, his voice breaking as he bottoms out. “It’s so warm, baby—”

You’re already trembling, your walls fluttering around him as he starts to move, pulling out all the way before sinking right back in. “So big, Jungkookie,” you whimper, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “F-fuck, I love your dick so much.”

“Yeah?”

There it fucking is.

“You love it, baby? Love this fucking cock, baby?” he rasps, his hips snapping harder now, the loud, wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room.

“It’s yours.” Slap. “Your fucking cock.” Slap. “Will always be your fucking cock.”

Your pussy clamps around him, eyes rolling back as choked fucks spill from your lips. You can’t answer, your voice lost to your moans, your body arching into his as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that spot inside that makes your vision blur. You barely register the slam of the headboard against the wall, too cock-drunk to care as he presses a big hand to your belly.

“Feel that?” he growls, his palm firm against your abdomen. “Feel me, baby? Fucking up inside of you right here?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase against his back. “Oh my god, yes, yes—”

His other hand slides up your body, under your singlet to find your nipple and roll it between his fingers. The sensation makes you jerk against him, your cries spilling freely now. “So loud,” he mutters, though his lips quirk like he’s fucking proud of it. “God, you just can’t help it, can you, baby?”

He knows you love it when he talks to you like this. You’ve told him so more than once. He didn’t know how he felt about it at first, but when it had you cumming harder, whining more, it wasn’t really a choice anymore. He’d do anything to make you feel like that, give you anything you wanted.

You don’t have a chance to respond—not coherently, at least. His thumb drags from your hip, slipping down to your swollen, throbbing clit. He rubs big, messy, wet circles over the sensitive nub, and your vision shakes as you feel it coming.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans when you let out that shaky little noise and that trembling clench you always do when you’re about to cum. “Cum for me. Let me feel it. Cum on your cock, baby.”

Yes. Yes.

“Yes!” you scream, your body seizing up, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cry out, your hands slipping from his hair, nails raking down his bare back as you orgasm. “Baby, uh—fuck!”

He doesn’t slow, his hips pounding into you as his own release builds. “G-gonna fill you up,” he chokes out, his thrusts erratic now. “Fuckkkk, baby, gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yes,” you whimper the only word you seem to know. “Wannit so bad, Kookie.” You slur, voice breaking as he keeps fucking into you like a fleshlight. “Wanna feel your cum fill up my fucking pussy, baby, g-g-godddd.”

He shudders above you, his hips snapping hard with one long, deep thrust as he chokes out a cuumming, baby before spilling into you, his deep moan vibrating through your bedroom.

His thumb doesn’t stop.

He’s panting hard, hips fucking in and out of your leaking hole while you milk every last drop of sticky cum from his softening cock. “Come on, angel, gimmie one more, please. Please, angel.”

He’s pleading. You’re dying. Your body is convulsing, clenching and squeezing around his cock, somehow pulling even more of his load when he thought he had no more left to fucking give.

“One more, baby. That’s it. That’s it. There we go.”

Your eyes roll back, the dirtiest moan tearing from your throat as you squeal and shake around his cock. Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. He works you through it, rocks you through it, pushing his hips flush against yours so the head of his cock bulges and pulses against your g-spot, spelling his name on your clit with his thumb while you give him one fucking more.

Your chest heaves as your body trembles beneath him, your hands clutching weakly around his sides. Jungkook’s hips still, his cock twitching inside you as he breathes heavily, his forehead pressing softly against yours. He lifts his thumb from your clit, panting, and brings it to his lips without thinking, sucking your slick from his finger.

When he pulls it free, his eyes blink open, dazed and drunk. “I-I can’t believe we did that,” he chokes out. “We were so loud.”

You giggle softly, batting his hand away from his mouth to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down until his weight sinks against you. “Babyyy,” he groans in protest, squirming slightly. “I don’t wanna squish you.”

You grumble, your legs locking around his waist again, keeping him firmly in place. His softening cock shifts slightly inside you, and you hum contentedly. “You’re fine, my love. Perfect.”

He lets out a grumpy little whine before conceeding and resting his head in the crook of your neck. His chest rises and falls heavily against yours, his body still trembling faintly.

“It really is okay, though, baby,” you say, stroking his damp hair with one hand while your other rubs little circles over his back. “My mom and Sang-cheol are very sex positive.”

Jungkook’s body stiffens in your hold. “Angel, noo.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shrugging innocently. “What? They are.”

His face burns even redder as he rubs his nose into your neck. “It’s gonna be so awkward tomorrow,” he mumbles.

You snicker, drumming his bare bum with your feet. “It’s fine, baby. I didn’t pack any golf attire by the way, so we’ll needa go to the mall in the morning. You can help me pick out a slutty little sport skirt.”

His head lifts just slightly and you swear his ears perk up like a bunny. “Okay,” he says softly, cheeks still pink. “I’d like that.”

You giggle, the sound muffled as you press a kiss to his warm cheek. “God, you’re so cute, baby.”

His lips quirk into a shy grin, his doe eyes blinking down at you. “I love you,” he whispers. “This has been the best Christmas of my life.”

Your chest tightens, and your brows furrow as you whine softly at his sweetness. “I love you too, my sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands to press another kiss to his pout. “So much.”

His smile is soft, glowing, as he nestles back into your neck. His bare chest is warm against you, the two of you sinking into a quiet, content stillness. Your fingers brush through the damp hair at the base of his neck, his breathing evening out as your heartbeats sync.

“Angel?” His voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, my love?” you hum sleepily.

“I-I’m hard again.”

merry 23rd my darlings !! i hope you’re all having the best holidays so far, and thank u so much for all the overwhelming love and support on this silly willy journey of ours 💋 i’m sure you’ve already checked out december, but if you haven’t yet, PLEASEEE do — i swear to fuck u won’t regret it. the biggest thank u again from lovie and me, we appreciate you all endlessly 🩷🩷 see you on the 25th!! mwwwah -lyssa <3

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munsonsmixtapes · 1 month ago

Text

The First One's Always Free

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You go over to Eddie's to buy some weed after not seeing each other since high school. Old feelings arise and after smoking a joint together, you find yourselves tangled up in his sheets.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader and Eddie smoke a joint

You stand on the porch of Eddie’s trailer. You’re a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth on the little piece of wood you’re standing on, looking at your bike every time it comes into view. Why are you even there? It’s not like you’re going to buy. You have the money in your pocket but that doesn’t mean that you’re not scared. You’ve bought weed before, but never from someone you’ve been crushing on.

You hesitantly bring your hand up to knock and feel your hands shaking as you do so. You’re not so sure why you’re so nervous. Eddie is sweet. And really, the only reason you're here is because you have a little (massive) crush on him. He’s so different from what everyone says he is. He’s always been so kind to you, even going as far as inviting you to sit with him and his friends at lunch when you were in school.

But you haven’t seen him since high school so you’re not sure if he even sells anymore. You don’t even know why you’re still thinking about him since he probably forgot you even existed. That would make sense since you weren’t popular and only sat at his table a few times.

The door opens and the man on the other side of the door gasps at the sight of you. You take the time to take in how each of you have changed. Eddie’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s now sporting a full beard and a nose ring. He’s aged like a fine wine and you can’t stop looking at him.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” he smiles, opening the door wider to invite you in. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since graduation.” He closes the door to the trailer, still in disbelief that you’re standing in his living room. His dream girl.

Eddie has been crushing on you since the first day you flashed that bright smile at him. Right then and there, he knew that he was going to fall in love with you. And he did. When you set your copy of the Lord of the Rings on the lunch table he just knew that you were perfect for each other. He wanted to ask you out, but back then, he was Eddie “the freak” Munson and didn’t think he had a shot. He’s hoping that maybe now he does.

“So, what are you doing here?” His tone is more curious than anything. He just wants to know why the prettiest girl in Hawkins is in his trailer. And you somehow got even prettier since the last time he saw you.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re still dealing, but I was wanting to buy.”

“Of course I still deal,” he scoffs. “Please. Come on and I’ll show you.” He nods his head towards his room and you hesitantly follow, still feeling shy as you do so.

You watch him go through his belongings in a quick manner. He eventually finds what he needs, a metal lunchbox that he rifles through, on the hunt for the joints he rolled earlier. He was planning on smoking them himself, but you’re a special customer, so he feels like you deserve them. Once he finds them, he sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

You hesitantly sit on the bed, your thighs now touching because of your close proximity. You go to reach for the cash in your pocket, but he rests his hand on top of yours, shaking his head in response.

“First one’s always free,” he winks as he puts the bag into your hand, his fingertips brushing your palm. The two of you have never been this close before, your seats in the cafeteria preventing you from doing so. But now that you are, you can finally see just how pretty his brown eyes are. They’re even prettier than you remember.

“Oh, you don’t-”

“Just let me do something nice for you, alright?” He nudges your shoulder. “Think of it as a reunion gift.” Even if you had bought from him before, he’d still give it to you for free because he would feel bad for charging you.

“But I didn’t get anything.” You’re still as cute as he can remember and he just knows that you feel bad for not actually getting him anything. You’re so sweet that he swears that you’re going to give him a toothache.

“Then smoke this with me and we’ll call it even.” Oh, there’s no way you’re going to deny him. Especially not when he’s looking at you with those damn Bambi eyes. At this point, you’re sure that you’ll do anything he asks.

“Deal,” you nod and watch Eddie pull one of the joints from the bag. He hands it over to you and you part your lips, silently asking him to put it into your mouth for you. He catches on quickly and brings the joint to your lips, pushing the tip into your mouth and as your lips wrap around it, he wonders what they would look like wrapped around his-

“You got a light?” You ask, interrupting his train of thought.

“Y-yeah,” he responds and rushes over to his desk and grabs one of the many he’s got in his drawer before hurrying back. He lights up the joint and when you inhale then pull it from your lips to blow out the smoke, he swears that he’s in love. You look so hot and he doesn’t know why he can’t just make a move.

“Open,” you instruct and he does as you say as you put the joint between his lips, passing it off to him, your fingers brushing as he does so. You immediately wonder what his rough fingers would feel like inside you. You don’t know if it’s because of how attracted to him you still are or if it’s because you haven’t slept with anyone in a while and you’re just desperate.

The tension changes between the two of you, getting even more intense and sexual as the joint gets smaller. You’re now lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as you talk about everything and nothing. But really, all you want right now is for him to have you in any way he wants. You want him to take you right here and just go to town.

But he won’t. You know he won’t because he’s nothing but a gentleman. At this point, though, you’ll take what you can get even if it is just a kiss. You just need something from him so badly but you’re too afraid to ask. You haven’t seen him in two years. How crazy is it going to seem if you ask him for a kiss?

You have no idea that Eddie wants the same. He wants you so badly that he’s trying so hard to hide his cock from you. He’s embarrassed by how hard he is because all he can think about is all the positions he wants to have you in.

He doesn’t know what he's doing, but as soon as the joint is finished as he disposes of it, he takes the chances and hovers over you, his pupils blown wide, a mixture of both how high he is and also how much he wants you.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs looking down at you with that adorable smirk. His hand reaches up and his thumb slowly glides across your lips, his eyes watching them part as he does so. He dips it inside and your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, a gasp falling from his own lips as he watches.

“Fuck,” he whines and you’re so wet now that you can feel it soaking your panties. You need him and you need him now. But you’re going to let this play out as long as you can, your eyes on his as you continue to suck on his thumb.

He’s losing his mind over it as he replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, watching you lick them, purposely making just the right noises to make him hard beyond belief.

Once he can’t take it anymore, he removes them as his mouth covers yours as he places himself on top of you. Your hands wind into his hair, giving it a tug that juxtaposes how gently and chaste the kiss is, your lips moving together slowly.

It’s awkward as you try to figure it out but you do quickly as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open up, letting him inside. His hands slide underneath your shirt, rubbing up and down your waist slowly as your tongues move together.

He pushes your shirt up and it’s off and tosses to the side. Eddie leans up so he can get a good look at you. You suddenly feel self conscious since you didn’t wear one of your more sexy bras. But you didn’t know that this would happen.

Eddie’s eyes rake over your body and with him, you feel nothing but safe. You haven’t seen him in years but it’s like your bond is still there, that you’re still as close as you used to be. If only you had stayed in the state for college and hadn’t lost his information. You’re sure that that is your only regret.

He doesn’t seem to have any hard feelings, though as he looks like he wants to absolutely devour you. You’re taking off his shirt as he’s unzipping your skirt, pulling it down your waist as his shirt is discarded. He’s kissing down your waist as your skirt is thrown to the floor, whispering the sweetest word against your skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs against the spot right above the waistband of your panties. He loops his thumbs through it then pulls them down, letting them fall to the floor before he spreads your legs wide to see what he’s working with. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re really soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“I need you so bad,” you reply with a whine and his pants are off in a second, his underwear following closely behind, his cock coming into view. You’ve always dreamed about this exact moment, but now that it’s here, you’re almost convinced that you’re dreaming. Maybe that’s because you’re high.

“Relax, babe,” he laughs. “I’m right here.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before lining himself up with you, slowly inserting just the tip. It already hurts because of your inactivity but you don’t dare ask him to stop. You think he’s gonna go further when he pauses.

“Fuck, I didn’t even ask if you’re on birth control or anything.” He’s panicking now and you want to do anything you can to get him to calm down. You appreciate that he’s being so sweet and caring and hate that he’s working himself up like this.

“It’s alright,” You place your hands on top of his that are resting on your waist. You force him to look you in the eyes, giving him a smile that eventually helps him relax. “I am on birth control. And if you don’t want to use a condom, that’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you let out a laugh. “Now please fuck me before I just do it myself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods and adjusts his grip on your waist as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, trying to find a good rhythm. You’re responding just the way he wants you to, moaning when it feels good, bucking your hips against his.

His nails are digging into your skin as he goes harder, your moans and whines getting even louder as your toes curl in pleasure. Your nails are scratching down his back as he picks up the pace even more, pounding into you over and over again as your pretty sounds fill his ears. This is the best sex he’s ever had and he knows that’s not just because he’s high.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as his lips find yours again. It’s rough and messy as he’s still thrusting, but he’s just so desperate to have your mouth in his again. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away to let out a moan of his own. “You just feel so good, baby. We just should do this again when the high wears off.”

“I second that,” you breathe. “And again and again.”

“Until the morning and then I'll go to work and when I come back, we’ll do it again.”

“Sounds good to-” your words are cut off by an orgasm, your back arches as you scream out his name, Eddie talking you through the entire thing.

He keeps going and you’re bucking your hips against his, trying your best to get him there. He’s close, you can see it as he throws his head back. He pulls out quickly, cum leaking out onto your stomach as he’s reaching his own climax.

Once he’s come down from it, he stands from the bed and grabs hold of your hands, leading you to his bathroom where you two take a much needed shower that’s filled with kisses, washing each other’s bodies, which doesn’t last long before you’re at it again, totally unable to keep your hands off of each other. You then spend the rest of the night and early in the morning getting all tangled up in Eddie’s sheets, deciding that two years really was too long to be apart.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader

764 notes · View notes

fakeuwus · 8 months ago

Text

MANEATER | SIM JAEYUN (M)

PAIRING: virgin!jake x yn (femreader)

SYNOPSIS: in which jake is tired of being a virgin and you're asked to help him out.

WARNINGS: smut so MDNI! vrignity loss, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe out there), creampie, riding, multiple orgasms, etc. cursing, words like slut/whore, BARELY PROOFREAD

WC: 5k, lowercase intended

MESSAGE FROM NIC: here it finally is!! (sorry for the delay) my first piece of smut,,, hope it's what everyone imagined 😁 (also tysm for 2k notes on the teaser ahh!!) big thank u to my stella, @karinasbaby for encouraging this fic, one of my biggest supporters ilysm. pls be kind as this is something new for me BUT feedback is super appreciated, tell me what u liked and didn't like! (respectfully) also reblogs would be nice as well so feel free to drop one. love u guys sm 🫶🏼

jake sim was a virgin. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. and it’s not like he was ugly. not even close to that. jake was an attractive guy, easy on the eyes. and his flirting? a real smooth talker he was.

it was as if 2000s chad michael murray possessed his very soul every single time he would chat up a girl at a party or in class.

so why couldn't he ever close the deal? how did he find himself in a steamy makeout session one second and then the next the girl is storming out of the room in disgust. every. single. time.

oh yea, because he was a fucking virgin. a pitiful, pitiful virgin.

it seemed like girls these days wanted a man in charge. someone who could help them live out their fifty shades of grey fantasies. jake would like to think he could do that for them but how could he ever learn if no one wanted to give him the time of day? what happened to the girls that would spread their legs for anything and anyone?

all jake needed was one chance. one chance to stick his dick in a hole and he can move on with his life.

his friends didn't make it any better either. he was getting tired of hearing all about their wild sexcapades every week and having nothing to contribute to the conversation.

but they don’t intentionally leave him out or make him feel bad about his lack of experience. they even try getting him with their past hookups because you know, sharing is caring right?

“dude no way you fumbled sora. she’s a real slut i was so sure she would let you hit,” sunghoon says as he’s unwrapping his sandwich then taking a bite. “bro i didn't fumble anything. it's the same shit every time, once i tell them im a virgin they dip,” jake responds while he steals sunghoon’s sandwich and takes a bite for himself.

sunghoon doesn't even argue, his best friend is clearly in distress and is need of some food. “she started ranting about how she doesnt “do” virgins because they get attached and she thinks im gonna become obsessed with her or something.”

“why do you even tell them you’re a virgin in the first place? if that's the issue why even say anything at all?” heeseung questions with a mouth full of the same sandwich that somehow now ended up in his hands.

“because if he cums in .2 seconds then the girls are gonna think he’s a bad fuck. there's no winning here.” jake nods in agreement with jay's statement as he watches jay snatch the sandwich from heeseung and finish it off.

this is what is so beautiful about their friendship. they share everything with each other, the main things being girls and food. unfortunately for jake, bites of food is all he gets.

—-----------------

“oh fuck!” jakes pants while bucking his hips forward. vision blurry, drool pooling around the corner of his mouth. he genuinely feels like his soul is leaving his body and he wasn’t sure this was even real life anymore. to ground himself and bring him back to reality, he tries looking around the room to find something to distract him.

he doesn’t want to cum embarrassingly fast and he does NOT want to be seen as a bad fuck. out of the corner of his eye he spots a baby yoda squishmallow in the corner of the room, its sparkly eyes watching jake get his dick sucked for the first time.

it’s kind of weird but he finds comfort in the plushie and focuses on it to keep him from fucking exploding.

now you might be wondering how he got here. in a hot girl’s room getting what he swears is the best head in his life (not that he has anything to compare it to.) the answer is jay, his best friend in the entire world who he now owes his first born to.

“her name’s yn. just text her and ask when she wants to meet. i told her you were a virgin already so don’t worry about that,” jay explains as he’s scrolling through your profile showing jake what you look like.

silky, flowy hair, curves to die for. to say you’re gorgeous would be an understatement. the whole ordeal seemed too good to be true.

“she wants to fuck me? even after hearing i’m a virgin?” jake asks after grabbing his milk tea from the counter and walking towards a table.

jay simply nods and throws a look towards sunghoon, signaling him to explain the rest as they all take a seat. “yea that’s kind of her thing. she loves virgins. like, her body count consists of only virgins.”

jake was perplexed by the situation. surely he’d hear about a beautiful woman who only drops her panties for inexperienced guys roaming their campus.

heeseung then speaks up, as if reading jake’s mind, “she goes to the college in the next town over. around a 20 minute drive.” before continuing his sentence he shifts his eyes towards jay and sunghoon. eyeballs darting back and forth.

some unspoken dialogue is happening between the three as they sip their sweet drinks and jake just has to sit there and watch. minutes go by and jay clears his throat and sighs, finally breaking the silence.

“she uh, actually took all of our virginities back in high school. that’s how we know her.”

pause. the fuck? he knew his friends all have gotten their dicks wet for the same girl before but at the same time? jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. i mean, he did only just meet them three years ago, whatever they were up to before then he can’t judge.

he supposes desperate times call for desperate measures, and jake is sure he would’ve ended up in the same situation soon if they weren’t handing you on a silver platter to him.

“so… you guys had a foursome for your first times??”

heeseung instantly chokes on his boba as jake’s arm receives a punch from jay. a faint giggle is heard from sunghoon, “this bitch is choking on some balls.”

ignoring heeseung’s dramatics jay clarifies, “no you idiot, she took all of our virginities separately. we weren’t as desperate as you were.”

“and like, that pussy is so heavenly. i’d be pissed having to share her with another guy at the same time.”

“roger that, brother.”

jake looks towards the two, sunghoon rubbing heeseung’s back trying to calm him down from his almost near death over some balls.

“care to elaborate?”

“man why do you think we’re all sex crazed freaks? her pussy’s got some voodoo magic in it or something. our manhood didn’t begin when we watched porn for the first time together, it started with her,” jay pauses and shifts in his seat, slight discomfort in his lower region.

he looks up and pinches his nose, “fuck i’m getting hard just thinking about it.” sneaking a peek at jay’s lower half, jake can see his friend chubbing it up in his pants. nothing he’s never seen before honestly.

but what he hadn't seen before was how his friends were reminiscing so hard on a hook up the way they were right now. and the fact that their origin story of discovering their high libidos is all because of you? he was scared shitless of what he was about to get himself into.

-------------------

fast forward to some exchanged texts between you guys, jake found himself in your room with his pants around his ankles getting the life sucked out of him.

he quickly discovered you were very straightforward and to the point, immediately sending him your apartment address and what time to show up.

jake couldn’t argue though, all this talk about how you were gonna “change his life” and shit got him real worked up. he appreciated the fact that you skipped the small talk and went straight for his dick.

upon arriving and stepping into your living space, your lips smashed onto his and he was pushed down onto the bed. no hi, no hello. just your lucious, full lips swapping spit with his.

his hands instinctively flew to your waist, his digits gripping your plush skin as you straddle him. jake felt so in his element in the moment. making out? this is where he excels. he could do this all day if he could.

but he was here on a mission and he’ll be damned if he leaves without fucking you. or you fucking him. he was honestly down for whatever. you could ask to peg him and he would say yes.

you can sense his impatience, his face twisting in pleasure trying to savor every moment while the cogs are turning in his head, awaiting your next move. every squeeze he gave signaled that he wanted to get things moving.

you make your way down his body, peppering kisses any and everywhere leaving his skin burning. jake couldn’t believe what was about to happen.

in less than a minute he was about to get his first blowjob ever. what does he do? where do his hands go? what if he chokes you? what if he passes out from the stimulation?

before he can think of anymore what to do’s and what if’s, your mouth is on his dick and jake is seeing stars, figuratively and literally. he takes note of the little ones taped to your ceiling and thinks it’s cute.

the pink walls and plushies surrounding the two of you is such a stark contrast to your personality, or what little jake knows of you. but hey, he likes a woman with some duality to her.

“you can put your hands in my hair.”

jake finally takes a look down at you. pupils blown out, lips a bit swollen from all the sucking. you looked so, so pretty like this. he can only imagine what you look like with his cock in you.

trembling hands grab at your hair, slightly pushing you further down and a gagging noise emerges from the back of your throat. oh shit. your nose is practically meeting his pelvic bone and you aren’t letting up.

fuck it, jake thinks to himself. he was done with being patient. he starts fucking up into your mouth relentlessly, chasing the orgasm he was delaying. and you just let him.

you’re merely a hole for him in this moment and you could care less. his dick may be average in size but the girthiness of it was so delicious, you couldn’t get enough.

to make sure he reaches his high, you reach for his balls and start playing with them. his erratic thrusts combined with you squeezing his genitals he twitches in your mouth and his cum is shooting out, pooling out the sides of your lips.

and you don’t stop there. you keep going and going and jake actually feels like he’s going to pass out. “okay, okay please please!” you swallow everything he gave you and finally let him go with a pop to come up for air.

you get up and see him lying there on your bed, unmoving. eyes closed and mouth agape barely taking breaths. one might think he’s dead but this was typical.

once a guy gets to cum in a girl’s mouth for the first time they don’t know what to do with themselves. nudging him with your knee he breaks out of his trance with a lopsided smile adorning his face. god he’s adorable.

before you can suggest a break he immediately grabs you by the hips and flips you onto your back. your shorts go flying onto the floor behind him and he spreads your legs wide to prop them onto his shoulders.

his tongue immediately attaches to your clit and he starts licking you all over. slurping and sucking, as if this was his last meal on earth. he was desperate to get you to cum the way you made him and it was showing.

jake’s eating you out a little too expertly to your liking, as if he’s done this a million times. you won’t judge if he has, you’re literally the last person to judge someone’s sexual history but how is he still a virgin if he eats pussy this good?

he must’ve been met with horrible women who just used him for his mouth and left him dry. you wouldn’t do that to him though, poor guy doesn’t deserve that.

he inserts two fingers into your hole while his mouth was still working your clit. jesus christ. you didn’t notice before but his fingers were so slender and long, reaching places your own didn’t. “am i doing okay? kind of my first time.”

oh? so this was his first time eating pussy. you simply give him a nod of approval, not being able to utter a word as he dives right back in.

in all of your sexual encounters, never has there been a guy so willing to return the favor. and the fact that you didn’t even have to ask? where the fuck did jay find a guy like this? was he aware his friend was a fucking certified munch?

determined to make sure you cum, jake inserts another finger and moves his fingers in an upward motion, trying to find your spot. at least that’s what wikihow told him how to do it.

the sound of your moans and the taste of your pussy on his tongue simply feel amazing and he feels like he could come alone like this. at this point you’re panting and riding his fingers and god it’s so hot. you’re so hot.

jake finds himself humping into the mattress, trying to aid his painful hard on he’s grown since going down on you.

his wrist begins to ache with how fast he’s pumping into you but he doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll do anything to see what you look like when you reach your high.

“oh god, i’m, i’m- ahhh!” you come undone onto his mouth and hand, lips forming an o shape with the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard and he silently releases his load along with you onto the bed.

jake makes sure every single drop of your delicious juices are all licked up, driving your oversensitivity.

“so? how was i?”

you take a look at his annoyingly cute face and he’s licking all over his fingers like a lollipop. cute. gaining some of your composure, your eyes spot a wet spot on your sheets.

“wait, did you…”

“oh. sorry about that. i couldn’t help it.” jake explains with a sheepish smile and a scratch behind his head. not only is this guy a munch but he came untouched while tongue fucking you. you weren’t even sure guys like him existed, like at all.

without speaking another word, you grab the back of his neck and smash your lips onto his. tasting yourself on him has you wet all over again and you both begin to undress each other.

you detach yourself to take your shirt off and he pauses to fully look at you, drinking in every inch of your body. hands grab at your boobs and he pinches a nipple, a small moan escaping your mouth.

your body was literally to die for, the pictures on your profile barely doing you justice. and to finally be able to feel all around your curves and give your boods and ass tight squeezes was a dream come true for jake.

(he may or may not have been jerking off to the few posts you have up, counting down the days of you guys finally meeting but you didn’t have to know that)

you also took a moment to admire his body. to say jake was sculpted like a fucking greek god was an understatement, sporting a six pack and biceps to die for. veins running all over his arms and hands.

deciding it’s finally time to do the deed, you switch positions and motion for him to lay on his back. “are you ready?”

“wait! what about a condom?”

“i’m clean and i know you are so…”

“right.”

you throw your legs over his waist, now straddling him with your vagina inches from his cock. “okay, take deep breaths. i’m gonna slowly go down alright?”

jake throws a thumbs up and eagerly nods. in a moment like this he doesn’t fail to be endearing. you could literally just eat him up with how cute he was. your pussy was about to anyway.

you lace your fingers with his and slowly lower yourself onto him. there’s some intimacy with your actions and jake finds comfort in your eyes, looking at him adoringly.

it was finally fucking happening and jake couldn’t believe it. he was about to become a man. and the fact that it was you taking his virginity, a gorgeous woman who doesn’t care that he’s inexperienced and lets him hit it raw. it's really all he can ask for.

once your walls are wrapped around his tip, jake’s a goner. the little sweet moment you two shared is thrown out the window and he starts bucking his hips up into you, hard and fast.

his hands find purchase on your hips and he’s gripping them so hard you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow. you wanted to start out slow as it is his first time but it seems his thrusting says otherwise.

you press your hands against his chest and begin to move rhythmically in sync with him. jake’s eyes immediately roll back and his breathing quickens.

his hands fall to his side and he lays lifeless beneath you, letting you take full control.

all he could do was stare at the spot where his dick entered you and it was making him even more hornier. he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

your wetness didn’t help anything either. the squelching sounds indicated that you were very much enjoying this as much as he was.

“fuck you feel so good baby,” jake moans. the pet name that slips past his lips and it doesn’t go unnoticed but you also don’t question it.

for some reason the simple word made your heart jump. guys always called things like babe or even whore when they really let loose.

those never got to your head, you know they couldn’t really control themselves in the moment and you let them have their fun.

but jake has been nothing but kind to you this whole time, like he knew you were doing him a service and not the other way around.

this only fueled your desire to ensure that his sure first time exceeded his expectations so upped your menstrations. you quickly changed your pace to grind forward, backwards, and in circles making sure his dick felt every inch of you.

jake’s mind was reeling, his breath caught in his throat. he feels as if his dick was about to fall off with the way you were moving.

your body leans forward and you begin to kiss at his neck, leaving hickeys everywhere. your hot breath near his ear sends him into overdrive, must be a sensitive spot of his he never knew he had, but also how could he have known?

his hands that were once gripping the sheets meet your ass and he starts to guide you up and down his cock. you both were about to reach your climaxes, your pussy clenching with every move.

“i’m- where? fuck! where do i cum?”

“inside. cum inside me please.”

inside?? his first time cumming from sex and you were gonna let him do it inside of you? jake swears you couldn’t be any more perfect than you are right now.

you knew you threw him for a loop and honestly yourself as well. pushing these thoughts towards the back of your head you start riding him aggressively, even faster than before. “fuck, jake i’m cumming!”

“me too baby oh my god!”

and there was that damn pet name again. it makes your heart leap out of your chest and sends you over the edge.

the knot in your stomach snaps and jake follows shortly after, his load shooting into you. it pools out of you and you don’t hesitate to swipe some up with a delicate finger and bring it to your mouth, mirroring his actions from earlier.

your eyes meet his fucked out ones and you smile down at him, admiring the masterpiece of lovebites you left all over him. his vision was a bit blurry but he catches the way your lips curled upward, flashing your pearly whites.

jake finds himself instantly becoming hard again, call him easy but when a pretty girl is smiling at him like that after fucking him, can you really blame him?

you move yourself off of him and jake was fully expecting you to kick him out now but instead you position yourself on all fours, your ass in the air inviting him in.

“fuck. you’re into anal?”

you turn your head sharply to look at him over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow to question what he just said. the look you give him says it all and jake takes the hint and positions himself behind you.

“can we try anal next time though?”

an exasperated sigh leaves your lips and you reach over to grab his dick, inserting him into you. “umph! okay sorry.”

upon entering your pussy, jake relishes in the feeling of it. being inside your heat again leaves him breathless for the nth time today.

in and out. in and out. he tries to match his breathing with his gradual strokes. his member is extra sensitive right now and he’s trying not to lose himself. the impatience he had earlier has now moved onto you so you decide to take matters into your own hands and start fucking back into him.

your ass is now meeting his hips and the sound of skin slapping echoes in your room along with your moans. jake’s body is flailing from the sudden impact but he grounds his hands around your waist and grips the shit out of you.

he notices bruises forming on your skin but he can’t for the life of him let go. oops. he’ll do his best to remember to apologize for them tomorrow.

when there’s a good pace between the two of you, you fling yourself upward, back meeting his chest and the new angle has him reaching spots he didn’t before.

you take one of his strong arms and place it around your neck, having him choke you as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow. jake’s brain begins to turn to mush and he feels like he’s even more turned on at the revelation of one of your kinks.

and at this point you’re fucking onto him so hard, so good, he didn’t want it to end. “shit. shit. i love your pussy so much baby.” jake whines into your ear, meaning every word he said.

is it crazy to say you love someone upon meeting them for the first time? well, their pussy. yea. maybe. but who gives a fuck.

he was a man possessed by you, by your pussy. in this moment he truly believed there was some voodoo magic going on down there and he was blessed to be experiencing it.

you clench at his words, and your heart flips once more, prompting you to draw him closer to you (if that was even remotely possible)

the closeness of your bodies creates another intimate moment shared, kisses stolen from one another, hands tangled in his hair.

“i’m close,” he whispers in your ear, his breath leaving tingles down your spine. the hushed whispers you exchange contrast the sporadic thrusting that’s happening.

determined to reach your second high of the day, you push jake onto his back and settle yourself onto your knees, continuing to bounce up and down on his cock.

“yea just like that baby, shit shit shit i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

jake opens his eyes to watch the scene unfold before him and god was it something. your back arches as you take his cum in you once more and your screams fill his ears, signaling you orgasmed right after him.

this moment alone is better than porn itself, and jake savors every bit of it. there’s absolutely no way he can even bring himself to type “nsfw” in his twitter search bar ever again after this.

you hover yourself over him leaving just the tip inside before sliding right back down, pushing his seed back in while it gushes around his cock leaving jake wanting, no needing, a third round with you.

but to his dismay you roll yourself off of his body, landing on the mattress next to him.

“so… how do you feel?”

he releases a long exhale he didn’t know he was holding, “fantastic. 10/10 experience. would do it again.” you simply giggle at his response with a shake of your head, getting up to gather your clothes.

“wait! um, could we do this again?”

you playfully roll your eyes at him, leaving his question unanswered as you begin to dress yourself.

—-----------------

sat in his computer chair, jake is finding it difficult to finish this stupid ethics assignment. how is he supposed to argue about the death penalty when you straight up almost murdered him with your pussy less than 2 hours ago?

he’s sure his professor wouldn’t appreciate if he wrote that he doesn’t give a fuck about someone serving their punishment if the culprit was you, but honestly speaking he’d let you get away with just about anything. you were an angel sent from above to him who could do no wrong.

the way your soft lips wrapped around his cock while your innocent (not) eyes bored into his soul. the way you licked and kissed every single inch of his body, leaving nothing left untouched. and god, the way you worked his dick? how was he supposed to move on from you??

you were an insatiable, sex-crazed goddess. a once in a lifetime experience he was so grateful to have.

his thoughts are interrupted by a loud knocking at his door. two seconds later, jay trails into jake’s room followed by dumb and dumber, all of them having a snug look on their faces.

they make themselves comfortable before they get right into the interrogation. jay leans against the desk, sunghoon sits in the bean bag situated in the corner, and heeseung sprawls himself across the bed.

“so virgin, how was it?”

“wasn’t i right about her pussy?”

“where did she make you cum?”

eyes rolling in the back of his head, jake takes a deep sigh before answering their questions. “one, i’m not a virgin anymore so stop calling me that. two, it was absolutely fucking amazing. literally would give up heaven for it. and three, she had me cum in her. twice.”

heeseung shoots up from his position, jaw dropped and eyes wide. “you came in her twice?!” the boys all share a bewildered expression on their faces, dramatic as always.

jake just shrugs at them, what? didn’t you usually let guys cum in you like the freak you were?

jay slaps his hands down on jake’s shoulders, aggressively turning the computer chair towards him. “jake. buddy. yn has two rules.”

sunghoon suddenly appears on jay’s left, “one. you can’t cum in her. you can cum anywhere BUT inside of her.”

heeseung follows and is now on jay’s right side, “and two. she doesn’t repeat fuck.”

immediately following this revelation there’s silence. complete and utter silence. the gazes they hold are intense and uninviting. as if they truly couldn’t believe you let their best friend who’s never felt the touch of a woman break one of your rules.

their eyes say it all, they love jake to death and are happy for him, like seriously happy and relieved he’s finally entered manhood. but really? none of them got to do what he did? what was so special about him?

you don’t even know the answer to those questions yourself. maybe it was the puppy eyes or his whiny moans that made you feel like you had him in the palm of your hands.

his eagerness to pleasure you but to also receive reminded you of the sole purpose of why you only go for virgins. they made you feel wanted while also letting you be in charge. call it selfishness but why can’t a girl have the best of both worlds?

and you’d never admit it, but jake was one of the best fucks you’ve had in a while. he never tried to be someone he wasn’t, just authentically himself. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. and he was proud of it.

it was refreshing to fuck someone who didn’t have some sort of ego right after you were done with them. immediately bragging to everyone what you two did and acting like they could pull any girl as if you weren’t doing charity work for most of them.

with all of this in mind, of course you let him cum in you. he was doing so well for you, how could you not reward him? had to let him do it twice to drive it home.

and seriously, what kind of guy gives you a tender, sweet goodbye kiss and thanks you for defiling him? you didn’t regret your decisions with him but they were definitely scaring you.

never have you ever been this intimate with a guy, but jake was different. you felt it. and what you did next didn’t scare you as much as your recent choices with him.

*ping!*

the staredown between jake and his friends comes to a halt and he digs his phone out of his pocket to check it. sliding up, he sees the message appear on his screen:

you: are you free tomorrow?

he glances at his friends’ expectant eyes and throws them a smirk. looks like he gets to break that second rule of yours.

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